Spirits Rising
Page 8
CHAPTER 8
Pride and Prejudice
Sleep didn’t come easy or quickly. I crashed in Mrs. Saunders’s spare bedroom; I didn’t want her to be alone. At least I had the comfort of knowing no one had been injured. I’d never forgive myself if one of my neighbours was hurt. I also couldn’t push down the welling gratitude over seeing Tobe and his sons coming out to my rescue. While they were outmatched against ancient spirits, they still stood out there, trying to scare them away from my house.
People always say Newfies would do anything for a person and that they are nice people. There’s hearing it and there’s seeing people put themselves in danger to protect you. I would not take these people for granted ever again.
I also made a note to snow-blow all of their driveways at least once this winter.
Every rustle of leaves or creak in the old house startled me. I woke up as giddy as when I’d drifted off, the pressure of the lack of other an intoxicating drug of its own. Mexico had its own pulse of spirits, but the resort’s cold, commercialism had mostly pushed the ancient presence towards the temples and holy areas. Wisemen’s Cove and the entire Northern peninsula had that pulse, too, but the last day had pressed against me so heavily that breathing was difficult at times.
And now, nothing.
Each time I faded, I did not dream. I did not hear voices. No other spoke to me in my sleep. I did not relive any spirit’s memories.
And it was glorious.
I woke a few hours later to the piercing glare of midmorning sun and the smell of bacon and fresh-baking bread. I inhaled deeply.
I crawled out of bed, still wearing my clothes from the night before, and made my way down the stairs. It wasn’t until I saw Jeremy’s rumpled self that I remembered he was even there. He stood in Mrs. Saunders’s kitchen in his black boxers and grey T-shirt, barefoot despite the early September chill.
I looked away and vowed that, after this, I was moving as far away as I could from Jeremy. Like, British Columbia. Or maybe South Africa.
“Mrs. Saunders isn’t allowed to eat bacon,” I said by way of greeting.
He grinned at me. “I already made her Cream of Wheat with cream on top, and a cup of tea. I used the skim evaporated milk, not the cereal milk, and I put in two packets of artificial sugar and one of regular sugar. Just the way she likes it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t put gin in it, did you?”
“It’s too early for gin. I never drink before three in the afternoon,” came Mrs. Saunders’s raspy voice from the living room.
I cocked an eyebrow at Jeremy, who chuckled.
“She has really good hearing for an old woman,” Jeremy whispered.
I laughed a little too loudly, a little too forced. Change the topic. Change the topic. “I have an idea for putting these spirits back to rest.”
He poked at the bacon with a fork. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “I’m going to try a ritual at the United Cemetery in town. Manny’s house is just down the hill from it and graveyards have a strong pull for the dead. Even if Manny’s house was where they were summoned, I’m hoping that graveyard is close enough to call them to me. “
He pulled the frying pan from the heat and put it down on a pot cloth on the counter. “Why not just do it in Manny’s yard?”
“I’m not very powerful.”
Jeremy began to protest, but I put up a hand. “I’m not talking down myself, I’m just being honest. Really, the only power I have is the ability to sense the other around us. I’m going to need all the help I can get.” I gave a shrug. “And I’d rather stab my eyes out with that fork than ask David O’Toole if I can practice witchcraft in his front yard.”
Jeremy chuckled. “I hear ya.”
“It isn’t legal to burn witches at the stake here, is it?”
“The Mounties frown on that sort of thing.” He cracked four eggs into the frying pan. They floated on the bacon grease, splattering and popping.
“I want to help,” Mrs Saunders said, walking into the kitchen, one hand bracing her lower back.
“You okay, Mrs. Saunders?” Jeremy asked.
She nodded her head. “I haven’t run since I was chasing youngsters! So, can I help with the witchcraft?”
I gave her a stern look. “There will be no witchcraft. I just want you to do what you did at my place.”
“All I did was say my Hail Mary.”
I snatched a piece of bacon off Jeremy’s plate and snapped it in half. I munched. I never eat bacon, it being fattening and I being on a diet. “Well, just keep on Hail Marying. You want to come help, Jeremy?”
“Of course.” He pulled a plate down from the cupboard and offered it to me. “Mrs. Saunders asked me to make extra for you, too.”
I eyed the old lady, who returned my glare with a much-too-innocent expression. “Such a good boy. I’m going to clean up the garbage in the yard while the bread is baking. No hanky-panky while I’m gone, you two,” she said, wagging her finger at me. She traded her cane for her walker, but not before slapping Jeremy’s behind. “Put some pants on, b’ye. People will think you spent the night with me!”
I laughed when she left the house and shook my head, though a little heat did rise in my cheeks. Hanky-panky was out of my future for a long, long time at my current rate.
“She still cleans her own garden?”
“I usually come over and do the bulk of it. She still weeds her tulips at the front of the house, though.” I chewed on a piece of bacon and moaned at the greasy, smoked goodness. “I look after our vegetable garden, but she often comes out with me. She sits in the car and yells at me.” I sighed, though I did let a little chuckle enter my voice. “Some days, it’s like being thirteen all over again.”
Jeremy grew serious. “She’s lucky to have you lookin’ out for her.”
I looked away. “Anyone would do the same for her.”
“True,” he admitted, “but I think she’d rather you doing it than anyone.”
We ate in silence, leaning against the kitchen counter eating our food. Normally, our silences were comfortable, the result of a strong friendship that didn’t require endless nervous prattle. It wasn’t until Jeremy spoke that I’d realized how different this silence was, the kind that was thick and uncomfortable.
“Last night was crazy,” he said in a low voice.
I nodded, slicing up my eggs with my fork. “I’m still a little shaky.”
“Your neighbour, Tobias?”
I nodded.
“He said he’d seen a ghost when he was sixteen. Scared the life out of him. Then, both his sons said they’d once found a Beothuk burial site while they were out cutting firewood and a ghost came out of the ground and started talking to them.”
I stirred my eggs around my plate a little, the bright-yellow yolks mixing with the brown bacon bits and fat on my plate. “Mrs. Saunders said people didn’t even bother digging up the giant mounds by L’Anse Aux Meadows because folks just assumed they were burial graves and figured the dead were best left alone.” I blew out a breath. “A friggin’ Viking settlement was here and people just left it alone.” I shook my head.
“Makes it easier for people to accept what’s happening.”
I shrugged and shovelled eggs in my mouth. I watched Mrs. Saunders walk past the open porch door twice, peering in at us, a wicked smile on her face. What a brat! I scraped my plate into the garbage and put the dish in the sink. I turned on the faucet and began washing dishes.
“What’s wrong?”
I was silent for a moment, not really sure what was crawling under my skin. “I’ve never felt like I belonged here, but I really do.” Tears welled up in my eyes, but I kept my head down so Jeremy wouldn’t see them. “God, Tobe came out there with a rifle.”
Jeremy sidled up next to me, taking the wet dishes from the drip pan and drying them. “I think you’re so used to hiding that you just assume people are against you.”
I tried to speak, but the stupid lump in my throat ma
de it impossible. Stupid vision getting blurry. “Someone taped religious tracts to my door telling me people were against me. I just assumed it was my neighbours.”
He put his hand on my shoulder. Orange-scented suds water dampened my shirt. “I saw the tracts in Manny’s basement. You can’t condemn us all for one man’s decision.”
I took a deep breath and gave Jeremy a quick smile, before he could see the tears falling from my eyes. He squeezed my shoulder once more and I ignored the chills his touch gave me.
We fell silent again, before Jeremy asked in a sober tone, “Can you stop the spirits?”
I watched Mrs. Saunders push her walker across the paving-stone path I’d made around her yard, so that she could weed her spring tulips safely. Now, she bent down and picked up the fallen pieces of wood that the spirits had knocked over from her woodpile, one hand firmly on her walker, brakes on.
I thought of Tobe and his sons, ready to defend me, even though I’d never stepped a foot in their house.
I took a deep breath, and said, “I hope so.”