“What? I don’t believe it. I would have bet that the two of you were in it for the long haul.”
“Well, believe it. We split, or at least I think we did.”
“Whoa, back up,” he said. “Either you did or you didn’t. If there’s a chance of working it out, hiding up here isn’t the answer. Why don’t you just tell your dear old dad what happened? Maybe I can help.”
“She got a job,” Shawn said reluctantly.
“Normally that’s good news. Especially these days.”
“With CNN,” Shawn said with a hard swallow.
“Again, good news.”
“Overseas, as a war correspondent.” Shawn felt the bile rising in her throat.
“Oh, my.” He turned pale and patted her shoulder. “Faith knows her stuff. I’m sure she’ll be fine. I’m guessing that your fear took over, and instead of saying you were afraid for her, you got angry.”
“Absolutely.” Shawn placed her coffee mug down and snuggled against her father. He wrapped his arms around her. “It wasn’t just being terrified that she might be killed, although that’s a big part of it. She didn’t even tell me she had an interview. She said she had an errand to run. I got a call a few hours later to meet her for lunch. We met up, and that’s when she told me everything. Not only did she accept a job halfway across the world that’s putting her life in danger, she didn’t even want to know how I felt about it. That’s when I took a nutty all over her sorry butt. I’m terrified that she isn’t coming home, and finding out that she wasn’t serious about us really hurt.”
“Hold on,” her father said. “I know I haven’t spent a lot of time with Faith, but from what I’ve seen, she’s just as committed as you are.”
“Then why would she just take this job?” Shawn yelled. “I’m not thrilled, but if it’s what she wants, I would have given her my blessing. I just think that if you’re serious about your relationship, your partner’s feelings should be taken into consideration.”
“True. You do know that I’m not the one you should be saying this to, don’t you? Call her.”
“Dad?”
“At the very least, wish her well,” he said. “Speaking of which, she’s going to be okay, isn’t she?”
“I don’t know.” Shawn clung a little tighter to her father. “Trying to read Faith is like trying to see through a brick wall. And I try not to read her. I really don’t want to invade her privacy.”
“Call her,” he insisted. “Tell her how you feel. Without screaming and shouting this time. You know I’m right.”
“Fine, you big meanie.” She sniffed and extracted herself from his embrace. Knowing that her father was right was no comfort. She went inside the house and made her way up to her childhood bedroom. She fought to calm her rapidly beating heart as she dug her cell phone out of her travel bag. She roamed around her bedroom, searching for a signal. When the bars finally appeared and she could make her call, she hit speed dial. Shawn knew that Faith had already left even before she heard the recording informing her that the number was no longer in service. “Damn it,” she snarled, when a clear image of Faith boarding an airplane locked in her mind.
“Shawn?” Her mother peeked into the room. “I just talked to your dad. Have you reached Faith yet?”
“No. Her service has been disabled. I could call her parents, but she’s left already.”
“Are you sure?”
“Mom.” Shawn cleared her throat. “This is me we’re talking about. She hopped a plane this morning.”
“So e-mail her. Mrs. Ruggeri’s son is over there. She gets e-mail from him all the time.”
“I will,” Shawn said wearily. “Not today. I need to chill out first. If I don’t, I’ll say things that I shouldn’t.”
Four days later, Shawn was back in her apartment, finally writing the e-mail. She apologized for the things she had said and wished Faith all the best. She went on to explain why she had reacted so badly. She told Faith everything about her fears and why she was hurt. She ended by saying that she loved her, wished her nothing but the best, and if Faith was serious about the two of them, she’d be waiting. Holding her breath, she hit the send button. Her heart was still pounding in her chest when the e-mail bounced back. Apparently, Faith’s phone service wasn’t the only thing disconnected.
“You don’t make things easy!” Shawn screamed.
A couple of weeks later, Shawn received the one and only letter Faith would send to her while overseas. It was nothing if not short and to the point.
I arrived safely. Can’t tell you where I am. I hope you’re well. I’m sorry things ended the way they did.
“Well, doesn’t that just suck,” Shawn snarled, ready to tear the letter to shreds. Instead, she slipped it back in the envelope and stored it in the top drawer of her bureau. She was tempted to write back saying everything she had expressed in the e-mail she had written, but she never worked up the nerve to do it. Granted, Faith had never been great at expressing herself, but her intentions had come through loud and clear.
Instead of wallowing in self-pity, Shawn packed a bag and headed off to her next assignment.
* * *
Shawn looked around, shivering slightly in an effort to fight off the early morning chill. She felt a sudden craving for coffee. She was confused about whether she was craving caffeine or her absent companion. She approached the crew gathered under a tarp in the middle of a field. She had dropped off and set up her equipment, and now that the rush to get ready was over, it hit her. This was the first time in over a year that she would be on her own. This is going to be harder than I thought.
Only a few weeks had passed since Faith had returned from running errands and announced that she was leaving the country. Shawn knew she overreacted when Faith dropped the bomb, and she had said things that could never be taken back. She was hurt, and she lashed out. Now, she was alone. “Williams,” Sue Simpson, one of her colleagues, greeted her. “Ooh. You’re looking rather glum. Where’s that gorgeous groupie of yours?”
“Faith is on assignment,” Shawn said absently.
“Wow.” Sue shook her head. “I thought her days as a professional skeptic were over.”
“Um…” Shawn hesitated. “Not a haunt. She’s working for the network again. Doing coverage on the war.”
“Overseas?” Sue inhaled sharply. “God, you must be worried.”
“Yes,” Shawn responded quietly, not wanting to elaborate that she was actually terrified. It wasn’t simply Faith’s well-being that concerned her. It was the thought that they had truly said good-bye.
“Pity that after Whispering Pines she wasn’t hirable anymore,” Sue said. “I have to confess, I miss working with her. Nothing like having Charles accusing me of being full of crap on camera to make things interesting.”
“Not much work for a skeptic who has admitted on camera and in a book that she believes in ghosts,” Shawn said, thinking that Whispering Pines had been the beginning and the end of their relationship. “It wasn’t a friendly parting. I hate that I’m incapable of turning my keen insight on myself.”
“I hear that.” Sue smiled. “Would have saved me from my first husband.”
“So, why are we here? Not that I’m not enjoying standing in the middle of a muddy field at the butt-crack of dawn,” Shawn said, feeling completely miserable.
“Oxford Farms.” Sue yawned. “Some spectacular pitting: three of us against three professional skeptics. Should be interesting.”
“Who?” Shawn asked, sensing tension brewing. There was someone among the living that was troubling Sue. “Ah, Rose.” She shook her head. Rose Schumacher, like herself and Sue, was a professional psychic. And like Sue, Shawn didn’t enjoy working with her. Everyone had some degree of intuition. Some, like Rose, claimed to be much more gifted than they were. It made working with her a very trying experience. “Do I even want to know who the naysayers are?”
“Rossi, McKenna, and York.”
“What is this, a
battle of ghosts or the battle of the sexes?” Shawn found herself laughing. “The boys are always a lot of fun during the downtime.”
“Yeah. Pity Rose is such a pain in the butt.”
“Okay.” Ronald Sinclair, the director, drew everyone’s attention. “Welcome to Oxford Farm,” he said, “unoccupied at the moment, and possibly haunted. The new owners have given us three days to run amok. We’ll be divided into three teams. Tape, photograph, and film everything that happens or doesn’t happen.
“Even though this is a big place with the fields, the barn, and the old house, there’s a chance you’ll be running into one another. Team one has priority, team two is second, and team three is last in the pecking order. Each team will have one sensitive, one skeptic, one cameraperson, one sound person, one assistant director, and so on. Play nice, and for the love of my career, get something the brass will wet themselves over.
“First team: Williams, York, Briscoe, Fox, Lennox, Myers, and Silver.” He read off the rest of the teams and allowed everyone to meet before insisting that they get started. Shawn noticed the way Rose seemed to be slighted by being selected for the last team.
“Shawn, your team is the lead. Where do you want to start?” Ronald asked.
“The house.” Shawn yawned and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Might as well be warm. I’d like to go back there tonight if I feel anything interesting.”
“I love being on your team,” Len York said eagerly.
Shawn and her crew went about setting up in the main house. It was a two-story structure dating back to the 1600s. Attempts to preserve the crumbling building had come too late. I suppose you don’t care one way or the other, so long as people stay away, she mentally addressed the dark figure lurking by the fireplace.
“Get out!” the dark figure whispered.
How original. Shawn scowled and rolled her eyes.
“Get out,” it repeated.
And redundant, to boot. Shawn glared at the figure dressed in a long black coat and a three-corner hat.
“They’re trying to fix this place up,” York commented absently just as the camera began to film them.
“Losing battle, I’m afraid.” Shawn sighed wearily.
“I agree, it’s going to take more than a coat of paint to restore this heap,” York muttered while he looked around.
“He doesn’t care for your assessment.” Shawn snickered, catching the dark figure hissing once again.
“Who?” York laughed.
“Gideon,” the specter snarled.
“Gideon,” Shawn repeated. “He’s lurking next to the hearth. He doesn’t like strangers. This is his home, always will be.”
“Right.” York moved towards the fireplace and waved his arms about. “Nothing.” He spun about, gloating as he faced Shawn.
Her eyes widened slightly as she watched Gideon raising a gnarled walking stick. “No need to do that,” she cautioned Gideon aloud.
“Do what?” York sighed dramatically. “Dr. Williams, I do believe that you’re toying with me.” He gave a sharp yelp when Gideon struck him soundly on the shoulder.
“I know I shouldn’t laugh, but that just tickles me every time,” Shawn said.
“I’m beginning to think people should collect combat pay for working with you.” York rubbed his shoulder.
Shawn scrubbed at her eyes. York’s off-the-cuff comment had hit a little too close to home. “I’m going upstairs.” She stomped off and York followed. She ignored his questions as she went about opening her senses and trying to get a feel for the area.
“Anything going to hit me?” he asked.
“No,” Shawn replied curtly as she felt her way around the upstairs. “Lots of residual energy, but no ghosts. Gideon doesn’t like to share his home. Big bully that he is, he has a nasty habit of chasing off anything that tries to linger. Still, even he can’t stop residual energy.”
“What exactly is residual energy?” Rory Fox, one of the assistant directors, cued her.
“The remnants of an event, or emotions that linger long after the event or feelings have passed on,” Shawn said. “It’s like watching film that’s playing in a loop. It starts, plays itself out, then starts all over again.”
“What’s playing here?” Fox once again prompted her. He had asked her the very same question on at least a dozen shoots.
“There’s a little girl,” Shawn related what she was seeing. “She’s right there by the window, sewing. She’s rocking back and forth, humming the same tune over and over again. I think she’s challenged, possibly autistic. I can’t be certain. I don’t feel what she feels. I do get a sense that this is all she knows. Sewing the same pattern over and over while humming the same nursery rhyme.”
York scoffed at Shawn’s assessment, but Shawn ignored his snotty attitude. They each took turns searching about and offering commentary on what they discovered. Shawn tried to relax. Faith’s absence was wearing on her. They were preparing to move to the field when Rory’s walkie-talkie chimed. Apparently, there was a problem back at the barn. Something to do with Sue wanting to smack Rose around.
“This should be fun,” Shawn groaned as they headed towards the barn.
“Hey,” York said, “once we wrap for the night, a bunch of us are heading to this little tavern in town. Interested in joining the party?”
“Yeah.” Shawn nodded.
She stumbled when she entered the barn and discovered what the problem was. “Are you a fucking idiot?” she screeched, stunning everyone with her harsh tone and unusual vocabulary.
“Um, Dr. Williams,” Ron said, “I’d really like your input, but please remember we aren’t airing this on Showtime.”
“Sorry.” Shawn rolled her shoulders in an effort to wash away the tension. “Rose, you do know that you’re playing with something dangerous, don’t you?”
“I find the Ouija an invaluable tool,” Rose said, waving her hand over the board.
“Don’t you folks use these things?” York was clearly confused.
“Not all of us,” Sue said. “A good old-fashioned séance, if done correctly, isn’t a problem. Those things, on the other hand, aren’t true séances.”
“There are two schools of thought when it comes to the Ouija,” Shawn said. “Some mediums, like Rose, believe it’s a valuable tool in reaching the other side. Others, such as Sue and I, think it’s an invitation for trouble. The Ouija opens a vortex, inviting all comers. You never know who’s going to show up, and it’s realistic to say that most of the spirits who enter that vortex aren’t who they claim to be.
“Case in point, many years ago a bunch of college students decided it would be fun to take a Ouija board to the oldest graveyard in town. It was late, and they thought it was nothing but a lark. They clowned around with the board for a while before heading back to their quiet apartment. From that night on, nothing was quiet in their home. Chairs turned over, the telephone dialed itself, and no matter how many times they locked them away, there was always a deck of cards spread out on the kitchen table, the ace of spades always turned over. Those were just a few of the things they endured for over two years.”
“They stayed?” York’s eyes were wide.
“They were students, and the rent was cheap.” Shawn shrugged. “Using a Ouija is similar to going to a maximum security prison, having all the cell doors opened, then parading in front of them naked, inviting all comers. You never know what you’ll get, and chances are you’ll never get rid of it. Sometimes even moving doesn’t stop whatever is chasing you.
“Personally, I feel that the best place for a Ouija board is in a fire pit. The bummer is, if you burn it after you use it, you’re leaving the vortex wide open. So if we’re voting on this, I cast a resounding no.”
“I don’t think you’re being reasonable,” Rose huffed.
“Hey, my life sucks enough right now,” Shawn snarled. “I’m really not in the mood to have something dark and dangerous following me back to the city.”
* * *
The shoot at Oxford Farms turned into an exercise in patience for everyone involved. The cast and crew failed to visit the tavern until they wrapped the project. “Doubles for everyone,” Fox offered when they entered the barroom that evening.
“Thank you, kind sir,” York eagerly accepted. Once everyone had settled in, he raised his glass in a toast. “Pity Rose couldn’t join us. Honestly, that girl is a problem. I don’t mind going around about with Shawn or Sue. They will at least admit when there’s nothing amiss.”
“Wish I could say the same about you.” Shawn laughed and downed her glass of wine while waving for another round.
“I think we’ve all learned a valuable lesson from Ms. Charles,” Sal Rossi said. “Saying that you’ve seen something that can’t be explained by science is career suicide. Where is she, by the way?”
“Shh.” Sue tried to caution him.
“Ah, is that what has your knickers in a twist?” York sighed. “I’m sorry, Shawn. I thought the two of you were still in the happy, sappy stage.”
“She got a job overseas.” Shawn tried to sound casual. “Come on, guys, next round is on me.” More drinks arrived, followed quickly by another round. “Don’t peek,” Shawn said to Sue, who was giving her a thoughtful look. “Professional courtesy.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that—”
“Don’t,” Shawn warned, half-tempted to just let Sue have her say.
“Fine,” Sue said. “Nice bracelet by the way.”
Shawn curled her lips while tucking the silver bracelet back under her sleeve. “I said, don’t.” Shawn narrowed her gaze. “Or I’ll be forced to return the favor.”
Rory laughed. “I love it when psychics get drunk. The last time, you scared the piss out of the bartender.”
“That’s right.” Sue chuckled. “After he found out we were in town, Shawn shook his hand and screamed ‘Oh, my God!’ I almost peed myself laughing at his reaction. By the way, Shawn, I’ll gladly give you a peek if you just let me say what I need to say. You know how it is. You get a message, and no matter how hard you try not to, you need to pass it on.”
Whispering Pines Page 7
