She pushed her arms and head through and walked to the door still pulling the dress down over her thick black tights. It wasn’t Vesna at the door.
Gregor stood on the stone flags of the landing, with a pale grey scarf casually wrapped around his neck and shoulders and a corduroy jacket that looked cat-belly soft. The smallest worry line marred the skin between his dark brows. “Are you alone?”
She laughed. “Yes. You probably won’t need to ask me that for awhile, given recent events.” She motioned him in.
“I can’t stay.” He stood in the entryway. “I just wanted to stop by and make sure you’re doing okay.”
“You didn’t have to come all the way down here. You could’ve called.”
“I know but I was worried about you. I woke up feeling guilty for not checking on you yesterday.”
“I’m fine. Or as fine as can be expected.” Should she tell him about the dead whisperer thing? “I worked yesterday, and Milo and Faron and Vesna have been keeping me company.” Not to mention my dead father, Helena’s ghost, and maybe an apparition of Maja, too.
“Okay. I’ve got a meeting for lunch and then I’m free for the afternoon. Are you working?”
“No. Enforced day off per Vesna, but I have errands.” She needed to find Maja, and she needed to see a priest.
“Smart of her, and of you, for listening to her.”
“Did you stop in downstairs?”
“Yes. Vesna and Frédéric are doing prep.”
“Vesna’s doing prep?”
“Maja hasn’t shown up yet.”
Her heart sank into her stomach.
“Are you listening to Leonard Cohen?” In the background “Suzanne” was offering tea and oranges.
“Yes.”
“Are you really okay? What did you mean I won’t have to ask if you’re alone?”
“Milo and I just ended things.”
Gregor closed the door behind him and slid his shoes off. He sat on the futon and pulled her down by her wrist to sit by him. “What happened?”
Recounting the morning’s events was going to earn her another lecture on love, but she told him anyway, because they were friends, and because it might put him off the scent of what had really shaken the foundations of her world. At least for another day or two.
Gregor had a way of listening that made her feel like she was the only person in the entire world of interest to him. She told him about her morning, minus a blow-by-blow of the farewell sex. She did not mention the real reason she’d taken off to Trnovo in the middle of the night.
He ran his hand over the top of her hair and followed it to the very ends where it was still a little damp. “I’m sorry. You’ve had a bad week.” No lecture.
“That would be putting it mildly.” Jo put her head on Gregor’s shoulder. He and Vesna and Faron were the solid center of her personal universe. In the midst of the hip-check craziness that had descended on her, they were the reason she wasn’t curled up under a table eating pudding with her fingers.
When Jackie said Jo had more than one thread tethering her, that’s what she’d meant.
Gregor put an arm around her shoulders. “You were going out, weren’t you?”
“Yes. The errands.”
“I’ll walk you down.” He leaned back on the futon and she got up to finish putting herself together.
“I’m guessing by the scarf it’s cold this morning?” She wound her own scarf around her head.
“Hm, and wet.” He gestured toward the wet umbrella leaning against the wall, holding his phone in both hands as he typed a reply to a text. He looked up at her. “Ready?”
She nodded. She had to steel herself before going downstairs to face whatever news that might be waiting. But staying in the flat alone was not a tempting prospect. Out looked like the lesser weirdness, if not the lesser evil.
Gregor kissed her goodbye and disappeared through the courtyard door onto Zajčeva. Jo went into the shop and poked her head into the cramped kitchen. Frédéric was busily frosting burnt butter cupcakes with warm ganache. Vesna looked at the prep list with a frown, but leapt up when she saw Jo in the door and flung her arms around her, nearly knocking her down in surprise.
“Vee, what the hell?”
“I’m just worried about you. Are you doing okay this morning?” And then very softly with her mom face on, “Anything else happen?”
“Not what I think you mean, but yes. Milo and I ended things.”
“That snake! How dare he break up with you!”
“Whoa. Cool your jets. He did not break up with me, if you want to call it that. It was a mutual agreement.” She wasn’t entirely sure that was true. She suspected Milo would’ve let things linger a little longer if she’d let it.
“Oh.” Vesna didn’t much look like she believed her either.
“On a completely different note. No Maja?” It didn’t take a search to see she wasn’t there.
“No.” Vesna stepped further away from Fred. “It’s not good.”
“No, it isn’t.” Jo was still clinging to her last shred of denial. “I’ll stay and help–”
“No, you won’t. I already messaged Damijan and asked him to come in early.” Vesna motioned her out of the kitchen. Out of Frédéric’s earshot, Vesna stopped. “You need to go see Uncle Leo. Now.”
“No. If I’m not going to help you open the shop, I’m going to go look for Maja.”
“Maybe Milo was right, and she’s just sleeping one off this morning?”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
“I want to.”
So did Jo. But she had also not believed in corporeal dead people hanging out in her apartment.
She started to speak, but Vesna cut her off again. “I messaged Leo when I got up.”
“What did you tell him? That your batshit best friend was coming by to chat about her in-depth convos with the dead?”
“Not in so many words. He’s a good guy though. He’ll meet you at the cathedral.”
“Text me if Maja comes in or you hear from her.”
Vesna nodded and sent her marching.
Out on the cobbles, Jo took a deep breath. She looked up through the open square of the courtyard to the leaden sky. She pulled her coat tighter around her and walked out onto the embankment and along the river to Tromostovje, the Triple Bridge. There was less foot traffic than usual. Even so, people were making their way to and fro between Mestni trg and Prešeren Square. A green Kavalir car hummed by her and crossed over the center bridge. She wondered what Richard Scarry would have made of the old city traffic of fancy golf carts, bicycles, and pedestrians? Would he have drawn a little cartoon Jo with a Halloween ghost wafting beside her and a label that said Dead Whisperer?
She passed the copy of the Robba Fountain, boarded up for the season, and continued down to the cream-colored cathedral of Saint Nicholas. Its dome and belfries shaded the street, and like every cathedral she’d ever seen, she felt small and fleeting beside it. She stood at the sundial on the south side of the building and looked at the inscription. She didn’t know Latin, but Gregor had told her many years ago that Nescitis diem neque horam translated roughly to “you don’t know the day or hour.”
The hour of what? Of death? Of Jesus’s return? The thought pulled on a deep childhood memory from the few Sunday mornings she’d been dragged to church. The mystery of death had taken center stage in her life, become a far more constant companion than she liked. The idea pricked her thoughts as she reached the heavy bronze door that was really a high-relief sculpture of a line of churchmen wearing tea cozy hats. She wrapped her hand around the bright polished handle where hundreds of hands kept the patina from settling, and she pulled.
The church was quiet except for the riot of decoration shouting from every nook and cranny of the walls and ceiling. Gilded and ornate,
it was not much to her taste despite its being well known. Whatever gods were hers, Jo was certain they preferred moss and trees and open fields.
There was one other person in the church. A man sat in the first pew. He was maybe in his fifties and his dark head was bowed in what she assumed was prayer. She walked to the front of the church and sat in the pew across the aisle from him.
He looked up. It was impossible to sneak up on anyone in there, especially in clogs. The smallest sound echoed off every carved and blinged inch of the place. He looked over at her, and in one fluid motion of black cloth he stood and walked to stand in front of her. He extended his hand and spoke to her in British-accented English.
“You must be Jo.”
She stood and extended her hand. “I have to say, Brother Kos, you aren’t what I expected.”
“Not gray-faced and angry-eyebrowed?”
“Something like that.”
“Vesna’s father, my brother, was 15 years older.”
She had to look up at him. Maybe he was an ex-basketball player? He had Vesna’s dark eyes and her same smile. “Is there somewhere less shiny and more private we can talk?”
He laughed an open clear laugh that cinched her affection for him. “Yes. I know you sell tea, but do you drink coffee?”
“Enthusiastically.”
“We can go to the rectory. I make a serviceable cup of Turkish coffee.”
She followed him out of the cathedral and back out onto the pedestrian street as gray as the sky and the day. He put his hands deep inside his cassock and walked briskly with her in his wake trying to keep up with his long strides.
The inside of the rectory was plain and worn but cozy. The scent of incense from the church had followed them or it lived there in the couch and curtains. She wondered if Brother Kos could still smell it after so many years. Some days she could still smell the butter and sugar and spice of her work. Sometimes she forgot until someone else reminded her she smelled of baking, usually Milo.
Not anymore.
She reined her thoughts back to the task at hand as she settled into the rectory couch. “Brother Kos, do you live here?”
He came back to the sitting room from the kitchen. He’d taken off the heavy cassock and stood tree-tall in his Roman-collared shirt and black pants. “No, but I am friends with the Father and stay here when I am in Ljubljana. Cream and sugar?”
“Cream only please, or just milk if you have it.”
“Milk it is.” He walked back to the kitchen out of her sight. His footsteps echoed away from her and there was a hiss of gas as an eye lit.
The sitting room had a large window of old, imperfect glass. It had started to rain with gusto since they’d come in and water droplets were combining into rivers that raced each other to the windowsill. Beyond the rain spatter, terra cotta roofs radiated out from the center of town. They were the brightest thing in the wet fall day. She hoped Maja was out there sleeping off a night of after-work drinks.
Brother Kos returned with two steaming cups of coffee. She took the cup he offered her and settled back into the couch. She was happy to have the warm mug to wrap her cold hands around. He sat opposite her on the couch and stretched his legs out into the sitting room.
“Vesna didn’t give me much detail about why you were coming only that it was personal and urgent.”
Damn. She was really hoping Vesna had explained things to him. It sounded crazier every time she spoke the words out loud. Best to be blunt. “I can talk to dead people.”
She hadn’t been exactly sure what she expected but his complete lack of reaction had definitely not been it.
“Brother Kos, did you hear what I said?”
“Jo, please call me Leo. And, yes, I heard you.”
“Okay, Leo. Um…”
“Vesna would not have sent you to me if it hadn’t been something out of the ordinary.”
“Out of the ordinary? I thought it was more like batshit crazy.”
“I don’t think you are mentally ill. You have a gift. Must be a new one.” He took a sip of coffee.
She sat her cup down. Maybe she should run. Maybe he was crazier than she was.
He must have sensed her fight or flight response kick in. “I didn’t handle that very well. Let’s start over. Tell me what’s happened, then I‘ll explain my lack of surprise.”
She relaxed a little and started with Helena’s body at the reception. Once she started, it tumbled out faster and with more detail than she’d shared with Jackie, even Maja’s face in the mirror, even the sex, even Milo’s departure.
Leo leaned closer to her. He didn’t interrupt.
“And Aunt Jackie agreed I should come to see you and she and I are supposed to Skype and discuss what I need to do to protect myself or develop my gift or whatever.” Jo leaned back into the couch and pulled her legs up underneath her. She was drained and relieved that Brother Kos, Leo, hadn’t made the sign of the cross at her with his fingers or splashed her with holy water.
“How are you holding up?”
“Strangely well most of the time. I’m guessing that’s when I am in denial.” She shrugged. “And then I have moments where I think this must be what it’s like to spiral into madness.”
“That’s a healthy response. Nothing prepared you for this.”
“You can say that again.” She wrapped her arms around her legs.
“Are you cold?”
“Yes.”
He got up and disappeared into another room. He came back with a throw and draped it over her legs. He sat back down and turned to her and started to speak.
She stopped him. “Sorry. But am I not going to get some sermon on my highly immoral lifestyle or something?”
“No. You aren’t Catholic so you needn’t live by our rules.”
“I have to say that’s a refreshing attitude, but I’m a little shocked.”
“We’re not all narrow-minded, Bible-thumpers.”
“Guess my prejudice is showing.”
“You’re hardly the first.”
“Still. I apologize.”
“Thank you, but it’s unnecessary. The Church doesn’t do very well in the PR department sometimes.”
“Sorry. You said you’d explain why you were so nonchalant about my revelation.”
“The supernatural is my area of expertise. Actually, it’s our family’s area of expertise.”
That was news. “Wait. What? Vesna?”
“Well, no. She’s knowledgeable, but she chose not to go into the ‘family business,’ as it were.”
“But. She never said. I mean. Fuck… oops. Sorry.”
He laughed and shook his head to indicate her apology was again unnecessary.
“What exactly is the family business?” Jo sat up and picked up her coffee again.
“This place is old. Much older than Ljubljana. Older than Emona. Older than the bits and pieces of past civilizations that bubble up in the marshes. With that long history comes layers of beliefs and lives and all the endless possibilities on the edges of most people’s day to day reality.”
“Okay.”
“Someone has to keep an eye on all those things that would most likely tear through the veneer of civilization we all maintain. My family has been doing that for a very long time.”
“You’re like what, the ghost sheriff?”
“Not quite so formal. And ghosts are the least of worries.” He laughed. “But, like your family, we have a purpose and a job to do.”
“And I, with my dead whisperer superpower, just happen to be best friends with a scion of the mighty supernatural watchdogs of Slovenia?”
“People are drawn together for many reasons.” He leaned back on the couch.
“I know, ‘everything happens for reason.’ Blah blah blah.” She flung her hand out sarcastically.
He bolted back up. “No. Everything does not happen for a reason. The universe we see, and don’t see, is chaos. Our jobs are to stand on the edge of that and try to keep it at bay for as long as possible.”
She was duly chastised. “I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s just important that you don’t cling to this fantasy of predestination or resigning to our fates. Everything you do has an impact, Jo, especially now.”
The responsibility of what all of this meant settled onto her like a lead blanket. She’d thought it was something happening around her. Leo made it seem more like it was happening because of her.
She sighed and sat up straight on the couch, her legs still covered by the throw some parishioner must have knitted a long time ago. “So what’s next?”
“I think you should talk to your Aunt Jackie and learn what you can about how the Wileys have dealt with this particular gift. And I think you should go to the police and report Maja as a missing person.”
“Maybe she just didn’t show up to work.”
“Don’t fool yourself. You are clearly smarter than that.”
“I’m not sure how that conversation is going to go.” She could already guess the look she’d get if she spoke to Investigator Klančnik again. She was pretty sure the woman already thought she was some kind of reprobate. “Anything else?”
“I think we should keep in touch.”
“Dead whisperer confession?”
“You can call it that, but I believe we can be of use to each other and it’s good to have someone you can confide in who…understands.”
“There’s that.” She stood up. “I should let you get on with your day. I’m going to check in at the shop to confirm Maja never showed or called. Then it looks like I’m going to the police.”
He stood and looked down into her face. “I’d like to offer you a blessing.”
“Brother– Leo. I don’t believe.”
“You do believe in something. It’s all the same magic, just dressed in different clothes.”
She nodded her acceptance.
He put his hand on the back of her head and bowed his. Jo bowed hers and closed her eyes. He spoke in Latin, finishing with “amen.”
Who By Water Page 12
