When Becky had neared her brother’s front door, she’d heard a dog barking. It was a happy yap, but still, she hadn’t known that Bobby had a pet. It was terribly unusual that he hadn’t mentioned it. They were very close and shared almost everything.
Amazed at the secret, she could hear Bobby laughing and calling out, “Here, Rings. Over here!”
There was also an unusually loud din coming from inside. Becky had knocked soundly on the wooden door, but after several minutes, and when no one answered, she’d opened the door and walked into the foyer.
She was more than a little surprised; Becky couldn’t believe her eyes.
Every single ghost that usually hung out in the River Arts District was in Bobby’s living room, including her parents. To top it off, Rings was a ghost dog; a beautiful Dalmatian pup with huge paws and a large black ring around each eye.
“Bobby, you have a lot of explaining to do,” Becky had said in her best imitation of Ricky Ricardo, Lucille Ball’s television husband.
A hushed silence had enveloped the previously boisterous room and suddenly ghosts scattered in all directions, vacating the premises in a flurry. Rings, seeing that everyone had left, felt the tension in the air. He lay on the floor with his head on his paws, whining pitifully. The sound had echoed in the now empty room. Empty except for Bobby and Becky.
“Where did everyone go?” Becky had asked in surprise.
“I guess they scattered when you crashed the party,” Bobby had replied rather sheepishly.
“A party…? What gives? Why was every ghost in town here?”
“It was a ‘we like your new digs’ kind of party and ‘glad Rings took up with you’ kind of party,” Bobby had admitted.
“Bobby, you hate ghosts. You do everything you can to keep them away from you. What the heck?”
“Aw, Sis; I don’t hate ghosts. I just like their visits to be on my terms. Rings is awesome. I love that pup.” At the sound of his name, Rings had lifted his head, stretched, and then softly padded his large feet over to Bobby. Bobby scratched the pup’s ears and then softly patted his back. “Yes, he’s a good doggy, a good doggy,” Bobby had enthusiastically praised.
“Do you ever help ghosts?” Becky had softly asked as she gently rubbed the bridge of the pup’s nose.
“No; to be honest, I tell them about you. I send anyone who wants help to your doorstep. It’s your responsibility, your calling, not mine. Besides, you do such a good job of it and we don’t need two or even three, counting Barbara, mediums in town.”
“But you like to party with ghosts?” Becky had asked with true surprise.
“Well, let’s face it Becks; I’ve always been an unusual bird. I never fit into the general populace. I have two, maybe three friends at most who understand me. I was always the odd ball, the one who knew too much, read too much, was too ‘astute’ as you’ve often told me. I enjoy the ghosts because they hold no judgments about me or the way I am.”
“But, you don’t want to help them.” Becky had bluntly stated, somewhat confused.
“Like I said, that’s your area of expertise.”
“Bobby, what you said about yourself simply isn’t true. You and Barbara were the popular ones, the shining stars of the family. Everybody loved both of you. You were a great ball player, loved by students, talented in so many ways. The girls loved you. Heck, they still do,” Becky teased. “I don’t understand why you would feel like an odd ball. I was the one that no one noticed. In our family, that was being the odd ball.”
“When no one notices you, you escape their expectations and judgments. Count your blessings, Becks. Count your many, many blessings. Besides, you’re what people call a late bloomer. You came into your own after college. That’s a blessing too.”
Becky had been amused and bemused by the things her brother had admitted. She hadn’t expected any of this – the confessions Bobby had made or the gathering of spirits at his new home… although it did explain their absence that day. She also considered what Bobby had said about his interaction with spirits. It made sense from his perspective. He liked ghosts on his terms. She knew he had never been comfortable with the rest of a medium’s responsibilities or duties.
Becky had wished for a millisecond that she was more like her brother. She knew she had never managed to set ground rules with the ghosts she worked with, but she’d decided right then that it was a very good idea. She would try to implement some rules of her own.
“So, what brings you by?’ Bobby had asked.
“I need some ghost help,” she’d replied.
Soon, the room was once again filled with spirits. However, this time they were quiet and worried rather than the animated crowd that had been there earlier. Becky felt bad that she was such a party-pooper, but she needed their assistance for a stubborn ghost-case. She was also glad that the ghosts willingly helped her.
Chapter 4
It was on that night at Bobby’s that Becky saw a new ghost mysteriously appear in the corner of Bobby’s living room. At first, Becky had thought she was seeing things. This spirit didn’t look like any she had ever seen before. In fact, she looked as if she had arrived from a different time or era.
Dressed in a long flowing tunic clasped at one shoulder by a large ruby brooch, this ghost wore a matching scarf headdress embellished with similar jewels. Her hair was also copper like Becky’s, but her curls were soft and well-behaved. Becky briefly wondered if she was an ancestor because there were many red and copper-haired relatives from the past in Becky’s family tree. The tan silk scarf accentuated her beautiful red hair and fine porcelain complexion.
She smiled at Becky.
Becky looked at Bobby, but apparently he was unaware of this new being that stood apart from all the other spirits. None of the ghosts were aware of her presence either. Thoughts came rushing into Becky’s mind, thoughts that were obviously pushed by the new apparition.
I am Zetmeh.
Do not worry.
I will help you.
You have proven yourself to be kind and helpful to departed spirits.
I will come to you again.
Be prepared.
Be discreet.
And, tonight when you retire, remember that you control your own space. It is wise to repeat these words each evening, “As the mistress of this home, I will rest undisturbed.”
With that final remark, Zetmeh was gone and Becky had felt a glimmer of hope. For one thing, she had been amazed that no one else had seen the new phantom but she was even more astounded that Zetmeh had offered help to her for the current disturbing ghost case.
Over the course of the next few months, Zetmeh had helped Becky understand many concepts and ideas. She had explained:
I am one of your spirit guides. My vibration is on a completely different plane than ghosts. That is why mediums like your brother and sister cannot see me. It is why your helper ghosts cannot see me. You see me, dear one, because I have allowed my frequency to be visible only to you.
Spirit guides are not ghosts, dear one. They are of a different vibration. They are higher evolved beings who have volunteered to help you during this lifetime.
There are many gifts that can be used during a life in this physical plane. Some have the gift to see ghosts while others have the gift to see spirit guides, what some call angels. Others are sensitive to ghostly or spiritual activity, but they do not ‘see’ it they only ‘sense’ it. They are called ‘sensitives.’ Still, there are others who have the ability to ‘hear’ but not ‘see.’ There are various levels of gifts, none are more important than another. This is not to say that you will not notice these gifts in others. You will. And, when they need assistance, you will be able to help them.
Each person who comes to the plane has at least one helper or spirit guide. No one comes alone. Others, depending on the work they have come to do, have more than one. You, dear one, because you work with many ghosts and the people they trouble, have many spirit guides. It is common for
those who help others to have more than a few spiritual companions or guides.
Chapter 5
At the present moment, Becky lovingly gazed outside at her patio. It was still dusky and dim at eight o’clock in the morning. With the many surrounding mountains, it seemed to take a while for the sun to peak in Asheville, especially this time of year. She flipped on the outside light and it brightened the covered area and reflected off the twinkle lights strung around the edges of the patio. Her parents had installed the glittery light for her sixteenth birthday party.
The twinkle lights always brought a smile to her lips each time she used them and she used them often, especially for family gatherings. Even if it was freezing outside, Bobby and Barbara would insist that they all drink a cup of hot cocoa on the patio after the holiday meal. With their parents gone, it had become one of their newest traditions.
She poured a fresh cup of coffee and took it to the patio. It was chilly but the sweet memory of the lights warmed her body and soul. She breathed deeply and tried to understand the reasons why she was out of sorts. She had everything a girl could want, didn’t she?
Her business was going well.
Her life was fulfilling and responsibly satisfying.
She had numerous friends and many acquaintances.
Still, something was missing. She was lonely and hungry for love. Someone to love her and someone to love.
A man in my life will not complete me, she angrily thought as she pushed the lonely feelings as far away as possible. That’s the kind of outdated ideals my mother instilled in me. She was convinced that all women needed a man to take care of them. I will prove her wrong.
Becky sat there for several minutes, hoping the cheerful atmosphere would chase the gloom away, but before it had time to work its magic, the kitchen phone rang. By the time she’d set down the coffee and gotten back inside, the answer machine was announcing her message, “This is Becky. Sorry I can’t get to the phone right …”
“Hello,” Becky quickly grabbed the receiver and interrupted the prerecorded greeting.
“Hey girlfriend,” Hillary replied.
Hillary Sweetwater was one of Becky’s closest and oldest friends. They’d known each other since their earliest days at kindergarten. Hillary currently worked as a dispatcher for the Asheville Police Department and was a valuable resource to Becky when working ghost cases. Hillary heard anything and everything that went on behind those departmental walls and was more than eager to pass on anything of interest to Becky.
“Hey, Hills,” Becky replied.
“Listen, I won’t keep you,” Hillary continued, “I just wanted to ask if you’d like to go to dinner next week after all the crazy holiday stuff is over.”
“Sure; I could use a night out,” Becky replied. “Where did you want to go?”
“Stoney Knob. It’s a family restaurant out in Weaverville. They have a couple of items on the menu that are vegetarian. You’ll like it; I promise.”
“I know it. My folks used to take us there when they were alive,” Becky answered.
“Great!” Hillary exuberantly asserted. “It’ll give me something to look forward to after the family leaves on Sunday.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Just the same-old-same- old; the usual holiday crap that could eat up a person if they let it get to them,” Hill’s word poured out in a torrential rant. “Memories from the past about arguments and insults that always seem to be part of the next year’s celebration. I don’t think my parents or my aunts and uncles have ever forgiven anyone in their entire lives. It never goes away because no one forgives or forgets. It just gets rehashed at every single gathering, year after year, until there is an explosion and someone gets so mad they leave, swearing they’ll never come back.”
“Oh honey, I didn’t know that was the kind of holiday gatherings you had. I thought your family was… well, I don’t know, I guess like mine.”
“Nobody’s family was like yours, Becky.”
“It’s just that every time I was around, they seemed so loving and normal,” Becky consoled.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, my parents didn’t act that way when Macon and I were growing up. They taught us to love and respect each other, like yours did with you and yours. I guess that was their way of evolving. But you let their sisters and brothers show up, and they revert to something else entirely. The relatives have already begun to arrive for the big meal on Thursday. My nerves are a wreck just thinking about it.”
“Maybe it’s something in the air. I’m feeling out of sorts too.”
Hillary didn’t seem to notice Becky’s comment as she continued her rant, “You know, I bet if anyone had ever recorded our family’s Thanksgiving or Christmas dinners, it would look exactly like the last one. The only thing that would change is the hairdos. It’s been going on for years. I swear, Becks,” Hillary sighed with exasperation, but she didn’t slow down, “sometimes I think you’re the lucky one. I actually envy you. It must be so wonderful that you only have to deal with your brother and sister during the holidays.” As soon as the words were spoken Hillary gasped. “Oh, crap! I can’t believe I said that!” Both young women were silent for a few moments and then Hillary rushed on, “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply that you should be glad your folks are dead or that I wish mine were. I just meant that Bobby and Barbara surely understand you better than anyone and it must be nice to have that acceptance. I’m sorry. I’m only making this worse. Let’s plan on next Monday evening if that’s all right. I’m off on Tuesdays. I’ll talk to you again real soon, Becky.”
The phone went dead and Becky hung up the old-timey landline on her end.
She quickly jotted down a grocery list and then got dressed for work.
Chapter 6
As Becky drove to work that morning, she noticed that, although the rest of the town seemed to be sleeping in, the River Arts District was bustling with activity. They were gearing up for the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and the Friday after. Most locally owned businesses in the city would close both Thanksgiving Day and the following Friday, but not so much in the most popular spot in Asheville. Here, the shop owners hoped for a greater influx of sales and local support. Apparently, it had already begun.
Asheville’s population was diverse, but overall there was a laid-back vibe that wove itself throughout the small town which, depending on perspective, was often considered a city. With a population of just over 90,000 fulltime residents, Asheville was small to some, large to others.
It seemed that everything depended on perspective.
If you came to Asheville from Boone, home to nearly 20,000 people, Asheville seemed big and difficult to navigate. However, if you came from Charlotte with a population of three-quarters of a million, Asheville was a quaint little city and a worthy weekend getaway. And then, if you traveled from New York City which was well on its way to nine million residents, Asheville was just a hick town in the Blue Ridge Mountains where anything was possible if you had enough money in your trust fund.
Some bought a second home and spent as much time as possible in the charming, picturesque area. Others had heard stories about the hippiefied culture and took great care to plan a permanent relocation. And then, some stopped in Asheville, got a taste of its unusual flair, and never left, leaving friends and family behind.
It’s often difficult to outgrow your past or to transform from caterpillar to butterfly when your family and friends won’t accept the new you. Those were the folks who hoped to find a place where they fit-in. They were not disappointed. They made friends that took the place of an outgrown past and family from other locales.
As it stood, Asheville was whatever you needed it to be and whatever you made of it. If you didn’t have family to share a meal with on special occasions, you could always visit one of the many pubs in the area and enjoy eating with a few strangers and a few regulars who shared your personal circumstances.
Pub culture was truly an Asheville blessin
g to many. It was a warm, welcoming place to socialize with others and drink your favorite locally brewed beer. It was a place to make new friends that took the place of those left behind. It was a place with a mystical allure and a heady buffet of varying appetites.
Fortunately for Becky, she was as much a part of Asheville’s culture as the pubs, the breweries, the French Broad River, and the nearby waterfalls. As uncommon as her gift was, she simply ‘fit-in’ with the rest of the pleasantly strange culture and folks.
Even though she desperately felt the need for a break, Becky would keep the antique store open every day this week except Thursday. Many last-minute shoppers would come into her popular antique store looking for that perfect centerpiece or ornamental bowl to decorate their Thanksgiving and Christmas tables.
Becky was widely known for her grand selection of Carnival, Depression, elegant, Fenton, and Milk glassware – all available in almost any color and style that a person could want. She also carried a surprising collection of Vintage costume jewelry that often sold well during the holiday season. Contrary to popular belief, not every woman in the area wore hemp strung beads or hand-blown glass pendants; some desired a new-to-them rhinestone necklace to complement their holiday attire.
Chapter 7
When Becky arrived at her shop, Jacob and Lois were already there, standing behind the register and waiting for Myrtle who arrived moments later. Becky could always count on their presence even when she wished to be alone. Today, however, after a gloomy morning, she was happy to see them. Their cheerful faces were hard to resist and she felt her mood lift.
Becky considered Jacob as her helper ghost. He was around almost all the time to assist any newly departed spirit with their problems and the adjustments needed once they attained their spiritual form. And, if he couldn’t solve their problems, he brought them straight to Becky.
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