by Mute80
My phone beeped at me around ten. It was Peter.
“Got any plans for today?” he texted.
“I thought we could check out a couple of museums,” I texted back.
“When you say ‘we,’ does that include me?”
“Of course. LOL.”
I hit send and immediately wished I could take it back. I usually prided myself in not using annoying teenage slang like LOL or ROFL. Oh well—it was too late.
We agreed to meet at the Sippican Historical Society at 11:00. I threw a few things in a backpack and headed to the garage for my bike. My hand was on the doorknob before I decided to double-check the locks on the front and back doors. They were secure, not that it mattered if any ghosts decided to visit. I rode to Camille’s house and walked up the stone path to her house. She opened the door and came out before I even had a chance to ring the bell.
“Grrr. Allison is driving me crazy this morning. Her latest boyfriend, what’s-his-name, gave her a promise ring last night and she can’t stop talking about it. What does a promise ring really mean, anyway? There’s no way she’s ever really going to marry him or even get officially engaged. I predict they break up before the 4th of July. My guess is that he just gave her the dumb ring to let other guys know to keep their hands off her until he gets bored with her. Nick is sooo cute. He and Sophia are the cutest couple ever.”
The Camille I knew was back. She could talk up a storm without even knowing it. I often wondered how she was able to say so much without coming up for a breath of air. I think I even caught her turning blue once before she stopped talking. I wanted to tell her I’d held hands with Peter, but I didn’t know how to bring the subject up. Guys were her area of expertise—not mine. She always held guy’s hands and I’d lost track of how many she’d kissed. She’d had her first kiss in seventh grade. For me, though, it had been a new experience and one that I didn’t know how to talk about.
The Sippican Historical Society was only a few blocks from the library and a short bike ride from Camille’s street. Peter was already there, sitting under a large shade tree, when Camille and I showed up. I appreciated his promptness, but I wondered how much of it had to do with boredom from being alone so often.
The museum wasn’t large, but it had a treasure trove of information about Marion and the history surrounding our city. The three of us were greeted by an elderly docent the moment we stepped inside.
“Hello and welcome,” she gushed.
I looked around. I hadn’t been inside the museum since the fourth grade when we went there for a class trip as part of a unit on local history. Camille and Peter had been with me then, too, and I wondered if either of them had been back since. The woman introduced herself as Rebekah and offered to give us a tour. She was obviously excited to have patrons and we agreed. For the most part, the information she gave us didn’t really pertain to why we were there, but I learned some things about our town’s history that either I hadn’t known previously or I’d forgotten. Everyone perked up when we got to a small replica of the Mary Celeste.
Rebekah was fascinated by the legend as well and her storytelling became a lot more animated. She explained what had been found on the ship and gave a little description of each of the theories that had been thrown around about the fate of the Captain and his family and crew. Some of the theories were new to me, which probably meant they weren’t widely accepted, but it didn’t really matter. I already knew the truth of what happened that day. When the docent had told all of her stories she excused herself to help someone standing in the gift shop area and invited us to continue looking around.
I looked at the model ship and tried to picture Sophia there as a little child. She would have been two years old and just learning to talk. I wondered if her little laugh back then brought as much joy to people as her laugh did now. I bent over and looked into the windows of the ship’s miniature cabin, trying to picture her mother playing music and singing while Sophia sat on the wooden floor playing with a doll. Unfortunately, I also pictured Jeremiah and Elsa boarding the ship with a band of unruly pirates to take the crew hostage. I pictured Sophia’s reaction as she was yanked from her mother’s arms and I jumped when I heard imaginary gunshots signaling the end of her parent’s lives.
“You okay?” Peter asked.
“Yeah. Sorry. I was trying to imagine what it must have been like to be in Sophia’s place back then.”
“Do you realize that I’m old enough to have been a cabin boy on a ship back then? I guess guys my age are pretty lazy these days.”
“Can you imagine trying to cook on a ship like that?” Camille asked. “It would have been hard enough in a house in those days without an oven or a microwave, but on a boat it had to have been so much worse. All that rocking back and forth probably made it hard to eat, too. I bet the food was super boring.”
“I did learn something new that I don’t remember hearing before. I wonder if Sophia even knows it. Did you read the paper talking about the Brigg’s family curse?”
Camille and Peter shook their heads.
“A few days ago Sophia told me about all the Brigg’s family members that had died at sea, but I don’t remember her mentioning her Uncle Oliver Briggs. Apparently he died only a month after Sophia’s family disappeared. His ship got caught in a storm and sank. He survived by floating on some of the wreckage for a few days, but died shortly before the only remaining crewman was rescued. Sophia’s grandmother was still holding onto hope that Benjamin, Sarah, and Sophia would be found alive when she found out about Oliver’s death. That poor lady.”
“That is sad,” Peter and Camille replied in unison.
An awkward silence hung over us for a few moments. Nobody spoke because none of us knew what else to say.
Finally, Camille cleared her throat. “Is anyone else hungry?”
“I’m starving,” Peter replied gratefully.
“I could definitely eat. Want to go to Grandma’s Cafe?”
We left the museum and rode to the library where we chained our bicycles to their bike racks before crossing the street to the restaurant.
“I miss Sophia. I like being friends with someone who has a car and a license,” Camille complained.
“You better not get too attached to it. I don’t think she plans on sticking around forever.”
“Where will her car go when she dies? I mean when she’s extricated.”
“I honestly have no idea. Maybe Jack and Rita will do something with it. When a ghost is living in mainstream society it’s probably difficult to cover up their unexplained permanent disappearances.”
The usual crowd of kids from school filled the café. Just as we walked through the door a couple of Peter’s good friends, Scott and Jason, walked out.
“Peter. Where’ve you been, man? Aren’t your parents out of town? You usually hang with us when they’re gone, but you haven’t been home. I thought maybe you went with them this time,” Scott said.
“Nope. I’ve just been . . . umm . . . busy.” Peter looked down at me.
I blushed.
“Oh. I see.” Scott got a silly grin on his face and nodded.
“Well, call us sometime, bro. Don’t be a stranger.” He high-fived Peter and he and Jason walked out the door.
We claimed a booth by leaving my bag and Peter’s gray hoodie on the table before going to the counter to place our order. While we stood in line my cell phone rang.
“It’s Sophia,” I whispered loudly as I placed it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Jamie?” Her voice was quiet and distant.
“Yes.”
“How are you?”
“I’m fine, but what about you? Did you make it to Haiti yet?”
“Yeah . . . we’re trying to find someone to take us out to the site now.” The connection was fuzzy and I could tell I was about to lose her.
“Okay. Call me when you can.” The call dropped before she could respond. I wondered if it would be the last ti
me I’d hear her voice.
CHAPTER 16
One thing I learned by watching Peter that day was that teenage boys are never satisfied. Camille had a half sandwich with a bowl of chicken noodle soup. I had a turkey sandwich with fries. Peter had a double cheeseburger with chili cheese fries and a large Coke. When he finished all of that he ate what was left of my fries. He was in good physical shape so I couldn’t figure out where he hid it all.
“Where are we going now? Didn’t you say there were two museums to visit?” Camille asked as she pushed her dishes away and leaned her elbows on the table.
I looked at my watch and sighed. “It’s already 2 o’clock. The other museum is in Salem so we’d have to take a bus. Even if we left now, we couldn’t get there before they close at five. Besides, I kind of feel like we’re just spinning our wheels and not getting anywhere. I doubt going there would be of any help. I’m so confused about how I’m supposed to help Sophia and Nick. Maybe they were wrong and I’m not really their soul saver.”
Peter leaned back and put his arm across the back of the booth. His arm wasn’t actually around me, but it made me blush anyway. Camille giggled and I kicked her under the table hoping Peter wouldn’t notice.
“Jamie, Sophia’s been hanging around as a ghost for over a hundred years. I don’t think you should expect to solve her problem in just a few days. Give it some time. Something will come up,” he said.
“If we’re not going to Salem, what else could we do? Please don’t make me go home to hear Allison babble on about her boyfriend. I’m not ready for more of that yet,” Camille pleaded.
“I guess we could go back to my place and hang out. We could rent a movie and get pizza and give this whole soul saver thing a rest for a while,” I offered.
“I’m game,” Peter said without any hesitation.
“Count me in, but can I invite Travis, too?” Camille asked.
I hesitated. I’d promised Dad I wouldn’t have any parties, although I don’t think he seriously thought I ever would. Does this count as a party? Camille and I did that kind of thing all the time when Dad was at work, but there weren’t usually guys involved. Besides, I didn’t want it to look like a double-date because I didn’t want Peter to feel pressured to act like my date.
“Uhh . . . that would probably be okay.”
“Good. I’ll text him right now.”
*****
We ditched our bikes on my lawn and climbed the stairs to the front door. My heart skipped a beat as I reached for the doorknob. The door wasn’t open, but it wasn’t closed either. It was as if someone had pushed it shut behind them and it didn’t quite latch.
Camille scrunched up her nose as she looked at me. “What’s wrong? You look scared.”
“Guys, I know the front door was shut and locked. I double-checked it before I left my house. Someone’s been here.”
“You’re positive you locked it?” Peter asked with concern.
“Yes!” I snapped at him without thinking. I was scared.
“Is there any chance your dad missed his flight and came back already?” Camille asked as she slowly backed down the stairs.
“He would’ve called me. Guys, someone has definitely been here. What if they’re still inside?” I was freaking out.
Peter put his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s check it out. It’s probably fine. Maybe the wind caught it.”
He led the way while Camille and I hovered close behind. He threw the front door open and peered inside before stepping over the threshold. We looked around the living room first and didn’t see anything amiss. My heart thumped loudly in my chest and I was sure if anyone was hiding inside they would be able to hear it. We stepped through the kitchen doorway and collectively gasped. Someone sat the kitchen table drinking a glass of ice water.
“Mom?”
“Jamie.”
“You scared the crap out of us.”
“Why?”
“You left the door open. We thought someone was in here.”
“Someone is in here. Me.” She laughed.
“Hi, Lillian,” Camille said as she stepped out from behind Peter. She loved my mom and always called her by her first name—which my mom insisted on. I think their personalities were more similar than mine and my mom’s. I was more like my dad.
“Hey, Cam. I’m loving your new hairstyle.” Mom gave Camille a little squeeze on her way to give me a hug.
“She cut her hair in November, Mom.”
“Well, it’s new to me. Who’s this?” she asked, looking at Peter.
“I’m Peter Ashby. I live nearby.”
“I remember you. You came to Jamie’s birthday party when she was little. Wow, you’re all grown up now. You even have muscles.” She playfully patted him on the arm.
I was mortified. I didn’t know who was more embarrassing when it came to boys—my dad or my mom.
“That was a fun party,” he offered. I’m sure he barely remembered it.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“I dunno. I thought you might like the surprise. Is Dad at work?”
“He’s in Chicago.”
“You mean he just left you here—by yourself?”
I didn’t respond because I knew she didn’t actually care. If she did, she wouldn’t have left me all those years ago. Dad referred to Mom as his Wildflower. She was full of life and made the world prettier and happier wherever she went, but you couldn’t control her. Her seeds fell where they may and sprung up in random places just when you least expected it. I thought of her as a gypsy. She went from one job and one town to another, trying new things and exploring the world. She phoned or wrote a letter now and then, and sometimes she even dropped in unexpectedly. I loved seeing her, but after every visit my dad would retreat to his office for weeks and I was left even more alone.
“So, Jamesie, what are you guys up to? I came to town to see some friends and thought I’d pop in for a visit.”
First, I hated the pet name she had for me. Second, I loved the fact that visiting me was the secondary part of her reason for being there. I tried to stay calm. I knew that was how she operated and I couldn’t let it get to me. Just try to enjoy her while she’s here. This situation is probably still better than having her here permanently, fighting with Dad.
“We were thinking about renting a movie this evening—maybe getting a pizza, too,” I said.
“Fun. Can I come?” Mom was a perpetual teenager.
“Of course you’re invited,” Camille insisted before I had a chance to tell her no.
Well, I guess I didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble for having a “party.” There would be “adult” supervision. I just hoped Mom didn’t try to flirt with Peter or Travis—I would definitely have to find a new town to live in if that happened.
The four of us sat down in the living room and listened to Mom tell stories about her current life. The woman knew how to live—I could give her credit for that. She had just started to tell about the month she spent on a cattle ranch in south Texas when we were interrupted by the buzzing of the doorbell.
“Oooh, it’s probably Travis.” Camille jumped up and opened the door.
“Hi, Camille. Is Jamie around?”
I couldn’t believe who stood at the door. It was Rita, looking very anxious. How does she know where I live and why is she here? What should I tell Mom? I’m sure I looked like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Uhh . . . hi. Come in, Rita,” I opened the door wider for her. “Mom, this is Rita. She’s the mother of one of my friends.” I hoped Rita would play along with my charade.
Mom didn’t stand up, but greeted her warmly from the comfort of the couch. “Hi. It’s good to meet you. I’m sure Jamie has told me all about your daughter . . . or is it son?”
Rita looked at me. “Oh . . . that would be daughter. Sophia.”
“What a beautiful name? Is she here with you?”
“No. That’s actually why I came to s
ee Jamie.”
We had the attention of the entire room. Three other sets of eyes were on us and Rita seemed hesitant to proceed.
“I was wondering if you’d heard from Sophia, Jamie. She’s not answering her cell. I needed to tell her something. You know how she is about keeping her cell charged, though.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Oh yeah—I know Sophia. I heard from her a couple of hours ago, actually. She was hanging out with Nick in Hai . . . Hartford, you know.”
“Oh good. I hoped she was still with him. I thought she might have left him by now. If you talk to her again, can you give her a message for me, please?” she asked.
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Will you tell her that her Goodwin relatives are in town and I think they would like to see her?”
I could feel my eyes clouding over as I understood what Rita was trying to tell me. We exchanged knowing looks and Rita nodded. I was sure Cam and Peter caught on, too. Camille sat on the couch biting her nails, something she only did when she was really nervous. I hoped Mom wouldn’t notice the concern rapidly spreading through the room.
“Well, I better get going. My husband’s probably wondering where I disappeared to. It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Peters,” Rita said.
“It’s just Lillian. Call me Lillian. Oh, and it was nice to meet you, too, Rita,” Mom gushed.
I showed Rita to the door and she squeezed my hand and whispered, “Be careful,” right before I shut the door. I stepped back into the room and plopped down on the chair I had previously occupied. Camille, Peter, and I exchanged looks, but none of us dared say anything. You could have heard a pin drop in the room.
“She was nice. And very pretty. How come I’ve never heard you talk about Sophia before?” Mom finally spoke up, breaking the silence.
“She’s kind of new to town. I guess she hasn’t come up in conversation, yet.”
Mom seemed to be okay with that answer and a thoughtful look spread across her face. “Did Rita say that their Goodwin relatives were visiting?”
