Ghost Who Came for Christmas
Page 10
Richard perked up. “So you know a little about our beliefs?”
“Yes, a little. I know you don’t celebrate Christmas. At first I wondered if you were staying here because you were in Frederickport for some Earthbound Spirits event, but you seem content to hang around here.”
“I have enjoyed it at Marlow House.” Richard smiled. “And I have nothing against Christmas per se.”
“So you’re simply here for a holiday—which happened to fall on Christmas?” Danielle asked.
Richard shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I guess I’m not very good at this.”
“Good at what?”
“I suppose I am…well, what you might call, a missionary. I’ve never really done this before.”
“Missionary? You mean like one of those people who go out and convert others to their religion?” Danielle tossed her book on the coffee table and leaned back in the sofa, studying Richard.
“Yes.
“And you’re here on some…mission.”
Richard looked down and nodded.
“So who are you here to help see the light?”
Richard looked up into Danielle’s eyes. “You.”
Danielle smiled. “That’s sort of what I figured.”
“You aren’t mad?”
“You haven’t really done anything yet to make me mad. I assume Peter Morris gave you the assignment to convert me?”
“We don’t actually say convert—that sounds like some sort of cult. My job is to help you see the light.”
“What happens if you aren’t successful? Do you get in trouble or anything?”
“Of course not. It’s not like that. No one is twisting members’ arms to spread the truth. Mr. Morris just felt you and I had a lot in common, and there might be some connection between us—something that would help me, help you.”
“If you discover I’m a hopeless cause—which I am by the way—will you start working on my other guests? Because frankly, that I couldn’t allow.”
“Oh no. I’ve been paired with you—not with anyone else here.”
“Paired? You aren’t implying… you and I…”
“Oh no!” Richard blushed. “Nothing like that. Absolutely not!”
Danielle chuckled. “Not sure if I should be insulted that you find the idea so horrifying or relieved—which I am by the way—relieved.”
“I promise I won’t be discussing Earthbound Spirits with any of your guests. Frankly, it’s personal.”
Danielle sat up straighter in her chair. “Since you’ve leveled with me, I think I owe you a little honesty. Ever since I heard you belonged to Earthbound Spirits and that Morris sent you here, I’ve been curious. Last night I looked you up online.”
“And?”
“Found some pictures of you and your parents. Why didn’t you mention your birthday was on Christmas Eve?”
Richard shrugged. “Birthdays were about as important as Christmas in our home.”
“Meaning what?”
“We didn’t really celebrate either one.”
“In the picture there was a Christmas tree in the background—a birthday cake.”
“I imagine whatever photos you found online were from some charity event—posted by a third party. I certainly never post pictures online.”
“Not a member of Facebook?” Danielle grinned.
“No. I prefer my privacy. And when I say we didn’t celebrate Christmas, I didn’t mean we didn’t have a Christmas tree or that I didn’t occasionally have a birthday cake. It was pretty standard for my mother to hire a decorator to deck out the house for every holiday. We never decorated a tree together. And during any Christmas event—typically a fundraiser—my parents loved to point out I was their best Christmas gift.”
“Sounds like you were loved.”
“Yes. It does sound that way. Doesn’t it?”
Danielle was silent for a moment and then asked, “What led you to Earthbound Spirits?”
“After my parents were killed, and I was sorting through everything—trying to get a handle on what I was now dealing with—I found myself asking, what’s the point of it all? And then I met Peter Morris and suddenly, it all made sense.”
“I think it’s fairly common for someone to reach out—often finding religion—in an attempt to have things make sense.”
“Did you do that? After your parents died?”
“I suppose, a little.”
“Are you happy now, Danielle?”
“Happy? Yes, I think I am.”
“But are you content?” he asked.
“Content? I suppose.” Danielle shrugged.
“I know you’ve come into a lot of money with your recent inheritances, but I imagine you’re like me and understand all that money can’t fill the place in your heart after losing your family—your husband.”
“You know about my husband?”
“Yes. Ever since Peter met you, he was concerned, worried about you. He looked into your background—but he only did it out of love.”
“Oh…I bet he did.”
“You see, it’s not about what we find on earth—it’s what’s waiting for us when we move onto the next plane.”
“I suppose that’s what most religions teach.”
“Yes, but when you discover the truth, you’ll realize it’s all so easy. You simply need to recognize this life is nothing but a place to learn, and then you can move on.”
“What about God?” Danielle asked.
“There is no God.” Richard told her.
“And you know that, how?” Danielle asked,
“I used to believe there was a God, but he never answered my prayers. When I met Peter, I learned the reason God never answered.”
“Because there is no God to answer your prayers?” Danielle asked.
Richard nodded.
“So, you’re telling me, all I have to do is believe there’s this cool place—that the only reason I’m here is to learn that lesson—not a lesson of how to treat others or to learn what is truly important in life—just that there’s this ultimate place, and then I can die and go there.”
“Yes! That’s it.” Richard smiled.
“So tell me, who exactly created this place? Who put your spirit here, in this world? Who decides where you go when you reach the Terminal—back on earth or to this heaven of yours?”
“You know about the Terminal?” Richard asked.
“Yes. I’ve read a little on Earthbound Spirits and what they believe. So, tell me, if there is no God—then who?”
“Why, you of course. The power is all in you.”
Danielle was quiet for a moment and then shook her head. “I’m sorry Richard, I really don’t buy it. Of course, you’re entitled to your belief system, I just don’t believe in it.”
“Maybe I’m not explaining it right. I told you, you’re my first assignment.”
“I’m curious, when you die what happens to your estate?”
“What does it matter? Nothing on this plane is real. It’s dust to me when I die.”
“I agree, once you die, your money—any of your material belongings—are of no use to you. But they still exist here, even if you don’t. What will happen to your estate?”
“I’m leaving it to Earthbound Spirits, of course.”
“And don’t you find that… well… doesn’t that raise any kind of red flag for you?”
Richard shook his head. “I’ve seen the damage money can do. I would rather my money—the money my parents left me—make a positive difference in this world.”
“And you think leaving it to Earthbound Spirits will do that?”
“Absolutely. That money will help fund Earthbound Spirits while they guide other spirits to the truth.”
Danielle shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry Richard, you can’t even begin to imagine how much I disagree with you. If you want to start doing something positive with your money, donate it to good causes while you’re still alive. Feed the hungry, educate poor children, save som
e abandoned dogs from euthanasia—anything but leave it to Earthbound Spirits.”
“That’s just your opinion. When you die you’ll realize I was right. I’m sorry, Danielle, because I really hoped I could help you.”
“No, Richard, it’s not my opinion. I know for an absolute fact Earthbound Spirits has it wrong.”
“How can you say that?”
“Isn’t is true Earthbound Spirits believes there are no such things as ghosts? In fact, the existence of a spirit—one not hindered by a material body—would pretty much negate Peter Morris’ teachings.”
“Yes, but no one has ever been able to prove the existence of ghosts. It’s nothing but folklore and superstition.”
Danielle leaned toward Richard. “Here’s the thing Richard—I believe in what are truly earthbound spirits—ghosts. I know they’re real. I have been seeing them all my life.”
Chapter Fifteen
“You actually told him you believe in ghosts?” Walt asked Danielle later that day, after her guests had left together to have lunch in town. Walt sat in the parlor, Sadie by his side, with Danielle sitting on the sofa and Max curled up on her lap.
“I couldn’t help myself. He seems like a basically nice guy and sincere, but he’s hooked up with that wackadoodle cult.”
“Not sure I know what wackadoodle means—but I think I can guess.”
“Maybe if I could prove there are ghosts, then that might show Richard Morris is feeding him a bunch of hooey.” Danielle paused a moment and looked at Walt. “You do know what hooey is?”
“Yes. We said hooey back in my day.”
“Anyway—if we can show him—”
“We? What do you mean we?”
“You could do something—I don’t know, levitate a desk or something. Show Richard ghosts are real.”
“Parlor tricks, Danielle? I think not.”
“You weren’t above parlor tricks with Chief MacDonald!”
“That was different,” Walt insisted.
“I don’t see how. And what about when you slugged Brian or disarmed Smith?”
“So now you’re using the times I tried to help you against me?”
“No…of course not…it’s just that…” Danielle sighed and leaned back in the sofa, her right hand absently stroking Max’s back.
“You have a good heart, Danielle, and I know you want to help this man. But I don’t believe levitating a piece of furniture is going to help him. If anything, he’d probably think you rigged it, and it’ll end up doing more harm than good.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Danielle glanced down at Max who had just lifted his head and now stared at her through golden eyes.
“I have one other question.”
Danielle stroked Max’s back. “What’s that?”
“Why didn’t you ask him about the headstone you found with his name on it?”
Danielle’s hand paused as she considered Walt’s question. Max’s head butted her hand, demanding she continue. She started petting Max again and said, “Aside from the fact it was just creepy, I started thinking about it and figured it was probably some spoof site.”
“Spoof site?”
“Yeah, like the Onion, maybe.”
“I have no idea what the Onion is.”
“Just a website that posts outrageous and fake news.”
“Why would someone do that?”
“I suppose people find it amusing. In any case, I figure it had to be something like that.”
“Did you check it out, see if it was a—as you call it—spoof site?”
“No…but it has to be. After all, Richard looks pretty good for someone who has supposedly been dead for 29 years. Plus, the cemetery was in Europe.”
“I’ve been dead for much longer than that, and I think I’ve held up very nicely. If I do say so myself.”
Brian Henderson sat with Joe at Lucy’s Diner having lunch. The waitress had just brought their meals when Brian asked Joe, “You going to Marlow House for the Christmas Eve open house?”
“I’m planning on it. You?” Joe asked.
Brian picked up his burger. “I still can’t believe she invited me.”
“Is that a yes or no?”
“I guess I’ll go. It might be interesting.” Brian took a bite of his burger.
“I’ll be spending Christmas evening with my sister and Craig. I really don’t want to go over there both nights.”
“Some women get more romantic over Christmas.”
Joe was just about to take a bite of his sandwich when he paused and frowned at Brian. “Just what is that supposed to mean?”
“Come on Joe, you still have a thing for the woman. I actually wish you two would go ahead and do something—get it out of your system—and then move on.”
“You still don’t like her, do you?”
“Honestly? I don’t know what I think about Boatman anymore.” Brian took another bite of his burger.
“Speak of the devil,” Joe said when five customers walked into the diner—two men, two women, and a young girl.
Brian glanced at the newcomers and then looked back to Joe. “What?”
“I think that’s who’s staying at Marlow House. I recognize one of the guys.”
“The way you said that, I thought Boatman just walked in.” Brian watched as the party sat down at a table. “So they’re all staying at Marlow House? Some sort of family Christmas reunion?”
“I don’t think so.” Joe leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I ran into Joanne this morning. She told me she had just left Marlow House, and was going back this evening. Apparently, Danielle is full up. She even took in someone off the street.”
“What do you mean someone off the street?” Brian frowned.
“According to Joanne, some woman just showed up at the door, begged for a room, said she didn’t want to be alone for Christmas, so Danielle took her in.”
“Is she paying for a room?” Brian asked.
“Yeah. Joanne said the woman paid in cash.”
Brian shrugged. “So what’s the big deal? That’s what Boatman does, she runs an inn, takes people off the street. If the woman paid her, so what?”
Joe leaned back and picked up his sandwich. “Danielle put her in the attic. Joanne thought it was a little odd, and so do I.”
“I never understood why Boatman keeps running that place like a hotel. It’s not like she needs the money.” Brian shook his head.
“That’s what I keep telling her. Anyway—the other guests include two single males. They didn’t come with any wife or girlfriend.”
Brian glanced over to the table and then back to Joe. “Looks like they’re with someone now.”
“I think they’re all guests from Marlow House. The young blonde, I’m pretty sure she’s the one who showed up on the doorstep. At least she fits Joanne’s description.”
Brian glanced briefly at the blonde and chuckled. “Why don’t women like that show up on my doorstep and beg for a room?”
“She’s young enough to be your daughter,” Joe scolded.
“True. Anyway, I’ve given up younger women. Nothing but trouble. But now that I think about it, all women are trouble.”
Brian picked up his water and took a sip. After he set his glass back down he asked, “Who does the little girl belong to?”
“I’m pretty sure she belongs to the other woman. I met the guy in the jeans. He was kind of a smart aleck.”
“When did you meet him?” Brian asked.
“I was dropping off her old iPhone when he was checking in.”
Brian was just about to step out of the men’s restroom at Lucy’s Diner when he heard what sounded like two people arguing in the hallway—a man and a woman. He paused for a moment, his hand still on the restroom door, listening.
“What in the hell are you doing back there, Anna?”
“I hate it when you say my name like that,” the woman hissed.
“Can you blame me?” the man countered.
“Because I don’t know what you’re trying to do back there. You shouldn’t have come.”
“Are you serious? How can you say that?” the woman asked. “You just want me dead and gone.”
The man laughed. “Dead would be nice. Gone forever, so I never have to see you again, that would work for me.”
“You can be so cruel, Chris!”
“Seriously? After all you’ve put me through?”
“I didn’t have a choice,” the woman insisted.
“I suppose not. But sometimes I wonder, maybe I should just kill you. See how that works out.”
Abruptly, Brian opened the bathroom door, interrupting the couple’s conversation. He was startled to discover they were two of the people who, according to Joe, were staying at Marlow House. One was the man Joe had met, and the other was the young blonde who had reportedly showed up on Boatman’s doorstep, begging for a room.
“Is there some problem here?” Brian asked gruffly.
“No…no problem officer.” The woman quickly ducked into the door of the woman’s restroom.
The man she had been arguing with started to turn around and head back to the dining room when Brian grabbed hold of his wrist. Brian remembered the woman had called the man Chris.
Chris came to a stop and looked down at his wrist, the officer’s hand still clutching it.
“Is there some problem, officer?” Chris asked, pulling his hand from Brian’s grasp.
“I heard you threatening that woman.”
“We were just talking. I didn’t threaten her; she knows that.”
“You’re staying at Marlow House, right?” Brian asked.
“Yes.” Chris glared at Brian and rubbed his wrist.
“How long are you staying in town?” Brian asked.
“I really don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“Everything that goes on in Frederickport is my business. I’m tempted to run you in, do a little background check on you.”
“Under what grounds?”
“Threatening someone’s life, to start with.”
At that moment, the blonde stepped back into the hallway from the woman’s restroom.
“Anna,” Chris called out. “This officer seems to think I threatened your life, and he wants to haul me into the police station.”