by Mute80
“That is pretty creative,” I said slowly.
“I’ve been known to dress up in rags and beg on the street corners. You’d be surprised at what people are willing to give you if you have the right words written on your cardboard sign,” Sophia said. “I’m ashamed to say it, but back in the 20s I was at a low point. I had long given up on haunting Jeremiah and Elsa and I’d been wandering the world trying to find a purpose. I discovered that men were willing to buy anything for a pretty face if they were drunk enough.”
“Sophia. Did you . . . prostitute yourself?” We all turned our heads to the doorway where Camille stood with a horrified expression on her face. I wondered how long she’d been standing there listening.
Sophia’s face fell as if she were hurt. “No. Of course not. I mean, I would flirt and pretend to be interested, maybe let them kiss me once or twice so that they would buy me things, but I would never stoop to that level, Camille. I promise. I’ve honestly never cared about anyone since Nick left me. Besides, this was the roaring 20s. Women were starting to be a little looser and guys were taking advantage of it. Have you ever heard of a speakeasy?”
“Isn’t that where they would sell illegal alcohol during prohibition?” Camille asked as she sat down next to me.
“Yes.”
I laughed out loud.
“Why is that so funny?” Sophia asked.
“I’m just picturing you in a flapper dress on the arm of Al Capone.”
“Al Capone was overweight and he totally wasn’t my type.”
I wasn’t sure if she was being serious or not, so I didn’t respond.
“I never drank at those establishments. Actually, I’ve never drank anywhere. I watched my parents—I mean Jeremiah and Elsa—drink enough when I was alive. I’ve never liked the way people act when they’re drunk. It makes them too vulnerable. I’m sure it wouldn’t affect me now that I’m a ghost, but it’s just never seemed like the right thing to do. Anyway, when the men were drunk they were pretty willing to give me a wad of cash and tell me to go buy myself something pretty.”
“For someone who isn’t actually living, you’ve led a pretty full life,” I said.
Sophia smiled. “I know. I’ve had some pretty neat experiences that I wouldn’t trade for anything, but now I feel like it’s time for it all to be done. That’s why I’m trying so hard to finish my business and be extricated. I’ve done everything I can here and I’m ready to know what comes next.”
Rita reached over and squeezed Sophia’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll know soon, honey.”
After Camille and I had eaten enough to feed a small army, we thanked Rita for her hospitality and announced that we’d better go home.
We started to walk out the door, but as an afterthought, Sophia turned around and asked Rita if she’d ever seen any ghosts around Marion that fit the description of the couple in their seventies that Phyllis had told us about.
She thought about it for a second and then perked up. “Yeah. I think I know who you’re talking about. Jack and I met a ghost couple when we were out taking a walk one evening a couple of years ago. They would probably fit that description. They introduced themselves as John and Elizabeth Godfrey.”
Sophia dropped the car keys she’d been holding and grabbed for the doorframe to keep herself from falling. She was as pale as a—for lack of a better word—ghost.
I grabbed her arm to help steady her. “Sophia, what’s wrong?”
She took a moment to compose herself and then in a very soft voice whispered, “John and Elizabeth Godfrey are the names Jeremiah and Elsa used when they were conning people.”
CHAPTER 13
“Oh my gosh. Are you serious?” Camille blurted out.
The four of us stood in Rita’s doorway staring at each other, not moving.
“For obvious reasons the Goodwins couldn’t use their real names, so they went by John and Elizabeth Godfrey. Sometimes they would force me to be part of the con. A decently dressed couple with a young child in tow was always believable. They made me call myself Suzanne Godfrey,” Sophia explained. “The last time I haunted them they were in their fifties. I never actually saw them die so I didn’t know when it happened. Apparently they found each other in death.”
“Sophia, it terrifies me that they’ve been to town multiple times looking for you and your family,” I said.
“It scares me, too. If they’re anything like they were when they were alive, they aren’t the type of ghost you want to be around.”
“What do we do now?” Camille asked.
“I guess we just keep doing what we’ve been doing and keep our eyes open. I sure wish it was possible to make myself invisible from ghosts. You two shouldn’t have to worry, they won’t know who you are or that you’re trying to help me. We’ll have to limit how much I’m seen with you in public.”
We said our goodbyes to Rita, who promised to keep watch for us, and climbed into Sophia’s car. She was unusually quiet on the drive to our side of town. I thought about Sophia’s situation and couldn’t help but wonder if Jeremiah and Elsa were supposed to be part of her extrication process. I kept my thoughts to myself as we dropped Camille in her driveway and headed for my house. I said goodbye to Sophia and promised to call her later—after I’d showered and changed my clothes. I found my dad sitting at the kitchen table with his laptop in front of him. He was concentrating and did little more than greet me as I walked through the room and headed for the stairs and a warm bath. While I waited for the tub to fill with water, I texted Peter and let him know about the latest development. I was sitting on the counter in my bathroom and I jumped when my phone started playing the song that was my latest ringtone.
“Hello?”
“Jamie?”
“Peter?”
“How was your night? Where’d you guys go after you dropped me off?”
“It was fine. Sophia’s been staying with a couple of friends on the other side of town and we spent the night on their couches. They were really friendly. I think you’d like them.” It felt weird to be talking to the boy I’d been in love with for years while I sat on my bathroom counter waiting to get into the tub. I grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around me, as if he could actually see through the phone.
“Do you really think that the mystery couple might be Sophia’s kidnapping pirate parents?”
I laughed at his description. “Yeah, we’re pretty sure it is. It would make sense.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I think we’re just going to continue what we’re already doing and try to avoid them if they come back to town.”
“Okay. Keep me posted. And Jamie, I really had fun last night. It was nice to hang out with you.”
“You, too.”
There was an awkward silence for a few seconds before Peter said goodbye and we hung up. I was utterly happy. Part of me hoped that Sophia would never finish her business so that I wouldn’t have to say goodbye to her and I would continue to have an excuse to spend time with Peter.
I stayed in the bathtub until my whole body was as wrinkled as a prune and my dad knocked on the bathroom door, interrupting my thoughts.
“Are you okay in there?” he asked.
“I’m fine. I was just about to get out,” I called back through the door.
“I have to pick up some papers at my office. Are you interested in coming with me?”
I thought about it for a second. I’d been wondering what happened to the Mary Celeste after the Dei Gratia towed it to Italy for salvage rights all those years ago. The information I searched on the internet was vague on the subject. Newton University, where my dad worked, had an excellent research library. I needed an excuse to look through their material.
“Sure. Just give me a little time to get ready.”
I quickly dried off and dressed in clean clothes. The one feature I did like about myself was my legs. It was easier to show them off in the summer when you could wear shorts every day.
I pulled on a pair of red walking shorts with a white t-shirt. The shirt wasn’t fancy, but it was gathered in the sleeves and had a feminine neckline. I thought I looked pretty good in the outfit. I used the blow dryer on my hair and pulled it up on the sides with two silver butterfly barrettes. I applied a little eye makeup and examined myself in the mirror one last time. If only Peter could see me this way instead of bundled up in a dark cemetery . . .
The drive to Dad’s office in New Bedford was relaxing. Instead of taking the I-195 like he usually did, he took the slightly longer route past the cemetery and through the town of Mattapoisett. Technically, our high school was across the border in Mattapoisett, but we still claimed it. I liked that route better because you could see more life than you could while driving on a busy interstate. I especially liked the part where the road crossed over the Acushnet River and I could look out over Buzzards Bay with water as far as I could see. I’d always felt like the sea held mystery. After meeting Sophia, I had become part of that mystique.
We pulled into Dad’s reserved parking space in front of the administration building and got out of the car. The campus was well-maintained and had many tree-lined sidewalks around the buildings. I’d enjoyed visiting campus with Dad ever since I was little. I figured there were only three more years until I would be a student there. I informed Dad that I wanted to look something up in the library and would meet him at his office soon. He agreed and we parted ways.
I walked across a large common area to the two-story library and entered through the front door. Only a few students milled about outside, and the library itself was almost completely void of life. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, it was a Sunday afternoon and it was Memorial Day weekend. I sat down at a reference computer and typed in the name Mary Celeste. A few options came up, but most of the books were the same ones I’d found at our little library in Marion. I continued to scroll down the screen until I saw a reference number for a maritime research journal that I hadn’t seen anywhere else before. I scribbled down the number on a piece of paper I found next to the computer and walked up and down the aisles until I found the journal. The magazine was wrapped in a plastic protective cover, its pages tight and crisp as if it had never been opened. I scanned the library for a place to sit and chose a table near a large window in the back. I hurriedly skimmed the table of contents, flipped to the pages about the Mary Celeste, and soon found myself completely engrossed in the article.
When the Mary Celeste was brought back to America after it was found adrift, the owner sold it and the ship changed hands many times over the next thirteen years or so. The final Captain was a man by the name of G. C. Parker. He was in over his head and decided to purposely sink the Mary Celeste so that he could collect insurance money from her. He ran the ship into a reef off the western coast of Haiti in 1885, but the ship still failed to sink completely and he was found out. Captain Parker went to trial for fraud and the ship was eventually burned down to the waterline, its remains slowly sinking down into the ocean. But, in 2001 it was rediscovered off the coast of Port-au-Prince by some sort of research team.
I couldn’t have been more excited about reading the article. This information has to be helpful. If only we could find a way to get to Haiti . . .
“Hello.”
I was startled from my thoughts by a person standing over me. He was one of the most handsome boys—men?—I had ever seen. He had piercing blue eyes that made my heart flutter a little. It was the first time I’d felt some an attraction to an older college student. The thought made me a little nervous.
“Umm . . . hi.”
“What are you reading?”
“An article.” My heart still fluttered.
He laughed. “I can see that. What’s it about?” He leaned over and read the title. “Ahh. The infamous Mary Celeste. Why are you so interested in something like that when it’s so beautiful outside?”
I glanced at the windows. I didn’t want to reveal too much to the prying individual so I tried to refocus the conversation on him. “Why are you in the library on a holiday weekend?”
He laughed again. “Touché. Actually, I came here for the same reason as you. Research.”
I didn’t say anything. I hoped that if I just stopped talking he would take the hint and move on. I wasn’t so lucky, and he sat down in the empty chair next to me.
“I saw you outside. I thought you looked like the kind of girl I’d like to meet.”
The tacky pickup line made me uncomfortable and I looked around for an excuse to slip away. Dad would not be happy if he thought I was trying to flirt with a college student, and of course I’d chosen a table all the way in the back where no one else in the library could see us.
“My dad should be here any second to meet me,” I lied and stood up quickly, closing the journal and picking it up off the table.
“I’m sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable. Let me start over.” He stood up, too.
There was something in his eyes—a look that was almost pleading. I felt oddly drawn to him. I don’t know why, but I sat back down again.
“The truth is, I did see you outside, but I was going to come in here anyway. You left the reference computer pulled up on your search and I saw that you were researching the same subject as me. I followed you, but I’m not a stalker. I promise.”
“You’re researching the Mary Celeste?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I smiled at his formal tone, although I was pretty sure he was mocking me. “Why are you researching an old ship?”
“Well, someone else I know has been studying it and I decided to see what all the fuss was about. I think I remember hearing something about it a long time ago, but I don’t remember the details.”
“You must not be from around here, then.”
“No. I’m just here for school. What can you tell me about the ship?”
“Well, there’s a lot to the story, but I’ll just give you the short version. Back in 1872 the Mary Celeste was found adrift in the Atlantic. There were no signs of any of the crew, the captain, or his family even though the ship was in sailing condition. No one ever heard from them again. Basically, it’s one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of the sea.”
“Remind me of the names of the Captain and his family?”
“Captain Benjamin Spooner Briggs, his wife Sarah Cobb Briggs, and their daughter Sophia Briggs. You know, you could easily find out that much information by doing a simple internet search.”
He appeared thoughtful. “I know, but I like to do things the old-school way. There’s a lot more satisfaction in that. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“I’m Jamie.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Jamie. My name is Nicholas Trenton, by the way.”
I jumped up so fast I knocked the wooden chair I was sitting in over and it clattered to the ground, shattering the peaceful silence of the library. I hastily scanned the room in search of an escape route and wondered if I should scream. Sophia said ghosts could hurt humans and I did not trust that one, deserter that he was. He had to be working with the Goodwins.
“Stay away from me,” I yelled, panicking. How did he find me and how does he know I’m helping Sophia?
I grabbed my purse and ran. I didn’t get very far before Nicholas cut me off. I should have known that outrunning a ghost who was much bigger than me was probably impossible. He grabbed me and covered my mouth with his hand, preventing me from making any noise. He pulled me behind the last of the tall shelves of books and pressed my back up against the wall, holding me there with the arm that covered my mouth.
“Shh,” he hissed. “I don’t want to hurt you. Honest.”
I whimpered and he loosened his grip just a little.
“Why did you run?”
I couldn’t exactly answer him since he was covering my mouth. I blinked a few times instead and I think he understood what it meant.
“I’m going to let go of you now, but you have
to promise not to scream . . . or run. I just want to talk to you. Please.”
I blinked again and he slowly let go of me. I folded my arms and hugged myself in an attempt to form a barrier between us.
“Why did you run?” he repeated.
“Because.”
“Because, why?”
“Because I know who you are.” I had no doubt. He looked exactly like Sophia had described him.
“Who am I?”
“You’re a ghost.”
He looked genuinely stunned. “You know about ghosts?”
“I’ve met one or two.”
“Really? Maybe that’s why I felt compelled to follow you today. I think you might be my soul saver.”
I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. His soul saver? There was no way I was helping the jerk. He ruined Sophia’s life. Literally. For all I cared he could just continue to rot in his miserable shadow of a life.
“Why are you so angry?” he asked.
“Because I know who you are, Nicholas . . . Nick . . . whatever you call yourself.”
“You know me?”
I nodded.
“How could you possibly know who I am? I didn’t have any family left when I died.”
“Well I guess that’s your fault, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Sophia. You left her. You’re the reason she was killed.” Tears spilled from my eyes and ran down my cheeks, but I didn’t care. I felt so much hate for the ghost in front of me that I forgot to be afraid of him.
“Sophia? You know about Sophia?” He was unexpectedly baffled.
I didn’t say anything, but I could tell by the look on his face the exact moment that realization struck.
