by Sue Clifton
“We don’t mind sharing the bathroom with you, as long as you knock before entering,” Cayce said. “But suit yourself.”
Later that afternoon, after being run out of the kitchen by Harri, Cayce and Hank sat on the front porch of the hotel drinking iced tea when Teesh drove up in her 1966 Studebaker. It was olive green and looked as new as the day she had bought it in 1966, the chrome shining as if it had just been polished. Hank stood up, planning to help Teesh out of the car, but Charlie, who rode shotgun with Teesh, jumped out and ran around the front of the car to open Teesh’s door. Charlie gave Teesh his hand just like the gentleman he had been taught to be.
“Thank you, Charlie,” Teesh said. Carrying her big black purse, Teesh walked briskly up the path to the hotel. Hank remained standing, prepared to help Teesh up the steps, but she climbed the steps as fast as Charlie, and without assistance. Cayce watched in amazement and just hoped she could be that agile at ninety-two years of age.
“That is a beautiful Studebaker, Teesh,” Cayce commented. “What model is it?”
“It’s a nineteen sixty-six. I bought it brand new and have never had a minute’s trouble with it. It’s just like the one Aunt Bea had, in real life. You know…from the Andy Griffith Show. I saw it on TV, and I had to have one the same olive-green color, just like Bea’s. Charlie loves my old car. He keeps it polished for me.”
“Good work, Charlie.” Hank gave the little man a thumbs-up.
“Charlie has done nothing but talk about chocolate gravy all afternoon. Thank goodness it’s almost time to taste it. I imagine I’ll be getting Harri’s recipe,” Teesh remarked as she sat in the rocker Hank had pulled closer for her.
“Charlie Chocolate gravy.” Charlie laughed, nodding to indicate he was ready for dessert, and as always, everyone caught the laughing bug.
Harri’s trout tasted delicious, and she had to explain in detail to Teesh and Hank just how she had cooked it. But the real hit was buttered biscuits dabbed in chocolate gravy. Charlie only ate one big bite of fish, just to be polite, and a pile of Granny Lou’s French fries, as Harri called them. Charlie said he was saving room for chocolate gravy. Charlie’s mouth was covered with chocolate when he finally pushed back from the table. Teesh wet her napkin and offered it to Charlie, pointing out spots he needed to wash. Charlie had been so excited about the gravy he’d completely forgotten about being afraid to come into the hotel, at least until the meal was over and everyone moved into the parlor.
Charlie sat as close to Teesh as he could get without sitting in her lap. He held his hat close and sat up on the edge of the antique velvet sofa as if ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.
“How about some music?” Hank asked, and to everyone’s surprise, the big cowboy left his chair and headed for the piano. He scooted the bench back to give his long legs plenty of room to reach the piano pedals and played “Claire De Lune” by Debussy. He sounded and looked like an accomplished classical pianist, complete with hand and body movements. At one point, he even closed his eyes, moving his head, clearly feeling the music as he played. When he finished, he held his hands up, allowing the last notes to linger. Everyone clapped.
“That was a real treat, not to mention a surprise,” Cayce remarked, still clapping. “How in the world did you learn to play like that, Hank?”
Hank turned on the piano bench and faced his audience.
“My mother, in addition to being my father’s partner in the hard labor it takes to run a ranch, was a classical pianist, born and raised in New York City. She insisted my brother and I be allowed to learn to play. My dad was always afraid his delicate little wife would tire of the ranch life and was so pleased she loved it he never fought her on the piano issue. My brother didn’t take to the piano like I did, but I loved it and still do, especially classical music. But it’s not all I can play.”
Hank swung his legs back around and pounded on the piano keys, playing music befitting a western frontier saloon. It was the saloon rendition of “The Old Mill Stream” with a faster beat. Harri sang along with Hank’s music, and soon Teesh stood and had Charlie by the hand. The two danced around the floor, with Charlie laughing at the top of his lungs. Cayce and Harri clapped as they danced. When Hank stopped, Teesh practically fell onto the sofa but was not nearly as winded as a woman her age should have been.
“Charlie like dance. Charlie dance with Sara and blue bubbles for Jesus.”
Cayce and Harri looked at each other.
“You dance with Sara, Charlie?” Harri asked. “In the cemetery?”
“Sara like dance. Right, Teesh?”
“Who is Sara?” Hank asked as he turned to face the group.
Cayce and Harri filled Hank in on their experience with the little girl ghost, Sara, and Teesh told him how she and Sara had been friends in life. Hank gave them his undivided attention, sitting on the edge of the bench so he could hear the soft-spoken Teesh give her account of Sara as she knew her.
“So Sara loved to dance? Well, that explains it.” Hank paused and rubbed his chin. “Remember how I told you I had an experience here in the hotel that would shock you?” Hank directed his question to Cayce and Harri, both of whom nodded.
“Well, I couldn’t sleep one night, and I decided to come down and play the piano.” Hank looked at Cayce. “I believe you refer to it as the witching hour, two-thirty to three-thirty a.m. Anyway, I played this piece by Bach, ‘Minuet in G,’ and things started happening. Blue circles—orbs, I believed they’re called—encircled me, but kept a distance of about five or six feet from me, and they were pulsating, keeping time to the music. It scared me to death, so I stopped playing, ready to bolt out of the room. But when I stopped, they circled closer to me. I thought I was being attacked, so I closed my eyes and played again. They moved away from me, but again danced to the music. I played until my fingers were getting numb, and then I heard it.”
Hank had everyone’s attention, even Charlie’s. Cayce and Harri both leaned forward in their chairs.
“I heard a child giggling, sounded like a little girl, and it was like she sat beside me on the piano bench. The next thing I knew, two keys started playing on the end of the piano where the giggle was coming from. She didn’t bang on the piano, but played two notes complementary to the chords and notes I was playing. It was like she wanted to play a duet with me.”
“Did you stop playing?” Harri asked.
“No. I got over my fear because the little girl sounded so happy. I caught myself just smiling away at the empty spot beside me—the spot I knew was not really empty. The next thing I knew, the blue orbs had left me, but were swirling around the room nearby like a blue dust devil. I thought I could see eyes in the middle of the circles, but I didn’t want to look too close for fear they would get in attack mode again. I continued to play and finally got up the nerve to look in the direction of the blue swirl, and there she was…”
“Sara,” Teesh answered for Hank and smiled into her fingertips, remembering her little friend.
“I assume so, after hearing your stories about her. She was dressed in a white lace dress and had a wide blue ribbon around her waist, tied in a big bow in the back, and the same kind of blue ribbon was in her hair. She danced in white, shiny, lace-up shoes and had on white stockings and those long white ruffly things under her dress. Her whole attire was from the early nineteen hundreds.”
“That would be pantaloons,” Teesh added. “We all wore those in the old days, but Sara’s always had rows and rows of ruffles on the bottom, and her dresses always had lace and ribbons. Her favorite color was blue—especially aqua blue like the ocean.”
“I couldn’t see her facial features, but she had the most beautiful dark curls that hung almost to her waist. She twirled inside the blue swirl, keeping perfect time to my music. She tried dancing on her tiptoes like a ballerina, giggling all around the room. The blue orbs stayed the same exact distance away from her, completely encircling like they were protecting her, except for when she stretche
d her arms out toward me. I think she was telling the blue circles she wanted me to see her dance, and they spread out so I could watch. The more she danced, the more I smiled, and the happier I played. The keys literally danced under my fingers. I honestly think the piano would have played by itself if I had let it.”
“Keep playing, Hank. Maybe Sara and the blue orbs, or bubbles as Charlie calls them, will come out and dance.” Cayce looked toward Charlie to make sure he wasn’t afraid, and he was smiling. She looked back at Hank and nodded in the direction Charlie was staring. Hank grinned and turned back facing the piano keys.
Chapter Fifteen
Zach took Piper’s bags from her and put them in the back seat of the Jeep while Piper placed her art bag behind her seat. The Jeep was a Wrangler, complete with ragtop. Before leaving the airport, they removed the doors to get the full effect of the fresh mountain air. The small back seat bulged after propping the doors behind the seats, but Piper was comfortable, especially with her newfound friendship, and Zach seemed the same. Piper and Zach talked the whole way, and when they weren’t talking, they were casting glances at each other, each glance followed by a big smile.
Soon after they started their trip toward Bar None, Zach reached for Piper’s hand and entwined his fingers in hers. She did not object and reveled in the vibes. Even after they had been traveling several hours, Zach held Piper’s hand, with the exception of a couple of short moments. She wondered if those times were to give her a little reprieve she did not require.
“Oh, look, Zach!” Piper yelled so loud Zach jumped. She pointed to a small sign on the side of the road. “There’s an antique shop ahead.”
“You’re into antiques, huh?” Zach smiled as if he approved. “Being a history buff, I cannot object. It’s not far ahead. I think if I push this Jeep a little, we can make it before they close. I bet they stay open late. Tourist season, you know.” With this, Zach sped up, glancing in his rearview mirror for any state troopers. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“My mother loves primitive antiques. I want to take her something. I left France in such a hurry I didn’t have time to shop.” Piper looked at her watch. “It will be close to six o’clock when we get there. I hope you’re right about tourist season.”
An hour later, they pulled the Jeep in by the same hitching post where Cayce had parked Hawk just a few days before. An elderly cowboy sat in a straight chair, tilted back, balancing on the chair’s two back legs worn to a slant from many years of leaning. When he saw the couple get out of the Jeep, he set the chair down and rose to greet them.
“Howdy! You’re just in time. Another ten minutes, and I would be closing. Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“Oh, I don’t mean to hold you. I’m looking for a gift for my mom. She loves primitives. Do you have any?”
The man held the door open, and Piper went through, followed by Zach.
“I got all kinds of primitive tools and such, but if you’re looking for real good primitives, you need to head on to the back section. My granddaughter Janie has a right smart selection of stuff back there I think you’ll like.” He showed them to the back but did not go into the huge back room. “I’ll let you look for yourself. And don’t be in no hurry. I got nothin’ pulling me home.”
“Thank you. I’ll look as quickly as I can.” Piper set out in a hurry, wanting to make sure she got a quick look at everything. She stopped at the same blue, buttermilk-base-painted, step-back cupboard her mom had spotted and ran her hand over it.
“Uh, Piper, that’s a beautiful cupboard, but I don’t think it’ll fit in the Jeep.”
Piper smiled at Zach. “I know. Just couldn’t pass this beauty up without a little love-stroking.” Piper headed off again. “I’m looking for something a lot smaller.” Piper showed Zach a size with her hands. “Maybe a small crock or something.”
“Oh, my! Look at this section, Zach!” Piper stood in the kitchen section where Harri had consumed a great deal of time looking at cookbooks. “Not only can I look for a crock for Mom here, but I can pick up a cookbook for Harri. My aunt has a teashop in Tennessee, and is quite the cook and the collector of cookbooks.”
“I think I’ll wander over to that fly fishing section on the other side while you browse. Do you mind?”
“Fly fishing section?” Piper looked past Zach with excitement. “Do you fly fish?”
“Well, yes, I do, as a matter of fact, but I forgot my fly fishing gear. Left it sitting by the front door. I’ve been wanting some vintage equipment for a while, and there’s a ton of it in that section over there.” Zach pointed. “And yes, I noticed your Winston cap, so I know you must be a diehard fly fisher yourself. Winston rods don’t come cheap.”
“I’ll just be here a second, and then I’ll be over there. Actually, I think I’ll look there for something for Mom. She collects antique creels and would like that much better than a crock. I’ll just grab a cookbook for Harri.” Piper began scanning the cookbooks, anxious to get to the fly fishing section. She saw just what she was looking for up on the top shelf, Mormon Pioneer Cooking, and it was written by an Idaho pioneer woman. “Yep, this will be perfect.”
When Piper got to Zach, he had already found a treasure.
“Check this out, Piper. It’s a Hardy bamboo rod in perfect condition, and it has a Hardy reel with it.” Zach had it out of its canvas cloth sleeve and was putting the three-piece rod together. He moved to the aisle, where he would have more room, and whipped it gently. “This sucker is beautiful but heavy. The flex is something I would have to get used to, but I’m buying it.” He took the rod apart and placed each section carefully back in the old faded sleeve. “And look at this reel, Piper. What a gem!”
“It’s a beauty, all right. My mom will want to try that out, I’m sure. I bet there are some high mountain lakes around Bar None, not to mention streams, and they would have to be full of rainbows and cutthroats. She has to take a break from ghost hunting at some point.” Piper walked through the section and spotted two vintage creels hanging on a wall.
“There! I want that creel, Zach, the one with the dark leather trim on the front. Can you get it down for me?”
Zach only had to reach a little to get the creels down. “Now you can look at both of them and see which one you want.” He handed her the one she’d asked for and inspected the other one. “And I’ll warn you—I’m getting whichever one you don’t want. Gotta have a place to put the trout we’ll catch, just in case we decide not to be catch-and-release anglers.” Zach put his finger to his lips and whispered. “Shhh! Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
Zach and Piper headed back to the front with their treasures. Just as they got to the cash register, the front door opened.
“Hi, Janie. You’re just in time. You got some new customers here, and it looks like they’re fishermen… er, fisherman and fisherwoman.”
Piper turned around, ready to introduce herself. The woman smiled, but her smile faded quickly as she got a good look at Piper. Then she began backing toward the door.
“No!” Janie continued to back up, dropped her purse, and held her hands up.
“Janie, you done gone crazy? What’s the matter with you, girl? You act like you seen a ghost.” The man moved from behind the counter and walked toward his granddaughter.
Janie, realizing her behavior was too strange, shook herself out of whatever trance she was in. Piper moved toward her and stuck her hand out.
“I’m Piper McCallister, and this is Zach Rockaby. We love your shop, and we found some great buys.”
Janie smiled, but still seemed reluctant to take Piper’s hand, giving it a wimpy shake after forcing herself to move closer.
“I am so sorry. You look so much like someone I know it startled me.” Janie still acted nervous but moved behind the counter to finish the transaction. She had on sunglasses and did not take them off, something Piper thought unusual.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Ja
nie asked while wrapping the creels.
“No, I’m from Montana, and Zach is from Utah.”
“Are you planning to fly fish while you’re in Idaho?” Janie did not look up as she continued to wrap and tape the items.
“Probably. If we can find some good streams or lakes, that is. Do you fly fish?”
“No. I’m too uncoordinated for it. Besides, my eyes are very sensitive to the light, and so is my skin. I stay out of the sunshine as much as possible. I don’t need any more freckles.”
“Truth is my granddaughter is not much of an outdoors girl.” Her grandfather wrapped the cookbook. “I like to fish, though, but I’m more the worms-in-a-can, spinning-rod kind of fisherman. But I like to watch fly fishermen—and fisherwomen—cast a fly rod. Kind of an art to it, ain’t it? Or at least that’s what they say on television.”
“Where are you two headed? I know just about every stream around has trout.” Janie finally looked up and made eye contact with Piper through transition lenses that were beginning to lighten up.
“My mom and aunt are at Bar None. A friend of theirs is restoring the old ghost town.”
“Wait a minute. Is your mom’s name Kati? No, that’s not it.” The man scratched his chin to help him remember. “Cayce! That’s it. Unusual spelling. I remember from her check. She stopped by with her sister a few days ago. Nice ladies. Bought some good stuff.”
“That’s my mom, and her sister is Harri. I should’ve known they couldn’t pass up an antique shop.”
“Cayce and her sister bought your old biscuit maker, Janie. I told you about that.”
“Yes, I remember, Papa.” Janie handed Piper and Zach the creels and the reel. “Do you want the rod wrapped?”
Janie finally seemed at ease. Piper noticed how pretty she was, with medium-length dark-brown hair, a beautiful complexion with a few freckles across her nose, and she was about Harri’s size, very petite. But it wasn’t her hair or freckles that caused Piper to study Janie closer. It was her eyes. Through the slow-changing lenses of her glasses, Piper saw they were light in color, like her own, but blue instead of green. When Janie wasn’t nervous, she was pleasant-looking.
