Shadow of a Life

by Tifani Clark

CHAPTER 12

  “What?” Camille screeched. “We’re being watched?”

  “Don’t worry. If they were mischievous ghosts they would’ve done something by now. I think they’ve been watching us because I’m with you. They’re probably wondering why a ghost is hanging out with a bunch of living teenagers—in a cemetery. I’m sure they think I’m the one who’s up to no good,” Sophia explained.

  “Umm, how many are out there?” I asked hesitantly.

  “I’m not sure. Some have come and gone since it got dark, but there’s consistently been a group of five watching from behind that mausoleum over there.” Sophia pointed to a memorial about fifty yards away.

  The three of us who were living looked for the unseen spirits, turning our heads every way we could, searching the shadows for signs of movement. The tingling feeling in my spine returned and I began to shiver.

  Peter, who was obviously a little anxious himself, scooted closer to me and whispered, “Hey, are you okay? Do you want to borrow my jacket?”

  “I’m fine. If I took your jacket, what would you use?” I did my best to smile at him.

  “I could stand up and do a bunch of jumping jacks to stay warm,” he joked.

  “Why don’t you do that? I’m sure we wouldn’t look suspicious at all.” Somehow it was easier talking to him in the dark than it was in the light, when all my weaknesses and flaws were exposed.

  “You guys wait here. I’m going to go talk to them. Maybe one of them has been around long enough to know if my brother is—or was ever—a ghost.”

  Sophia didn’t wait for a response. She stood and vanished in the blink of an eye. I felt a slight change in the air and temperature around me when she did so, as if something unseen had passed by. The three of us sat on the blanket in silence. It wasn’t nearly as scary when Sophia was there. After all, she was what we were afraid of. Without her there as a guide, we were all a little lost.

  I kept checking my watch—five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. Finally, I sensed the air around us change again and Sophia reappeared with an unknown man and woman in tow. Camille gasped and grabbed my arm.

  “Guys, this is Simon Rowan and Phyllis Hoffman. They’ve been hanging around here for a while,” Sophia said.

  I studied Simon and Phyllis. They looked as normal as any human could, but I knew their secret. We were nervous around the newcomers, but the funny thing was that I could tell they were just as nervous talking to the three of us who were still mortal. I wondered if they’d ever exposed themselves to living people before.

  Sophia was still talking. “Simon died in 1926 and Phyllis died in 1935. Simon says he knew Arthur before they both died, but neither of them have ever seen him here as a ghost.”

  I frowned. I’d thought that Arthur might be left as a ghost because he would have the same unfinished business as Sophia, but I guess I’d been wrong.

  Simon cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. He had a deep voice that echoed through the gloomy cemetery. “I was ninety years old when I died,” he said proudly. “Arthur was a good man and I enjoyed talking with him at times around town when we were both alive. He always wondered why he’d been left behind when everyone else in his family disappeared. I was in my mid-thirties and remember well when the crew of the Mary Celeste was lost to the sea. Rumors of what had transpired were rampant. Everyone had a different opinion of what really occurred. People were scared to sail with a member of the Briggs family on board. They said the family had a curse.” At that point he realized Sophia looked uncomfortable and he stopped talking abruptly, obviously remembering that she was a member of the family of which he spoke.

  Phyllis perked up when Simon stopped talking. “I never knew Arthur when we were alive. I wasn’t native to Marion or even Massachusetts,” she said. “I was ailing for quite some time before I died and I came to live with my daughter’s family here in Marion. I had two bouts with pneumonia that almost wiped me out, but I eventually got a little better. Then, wouldn’t you know, I tripped over one of my grandchild’s toys and broke my hip. I never could recover from that. The hospitals here are fine, but had I been back in Philadelphia at least my friends and neighbors could have come to visit. Rather than ship my body back to Philadelphia, my daughter decided to have me buried here. It was kind of selfish if you ask me. I would much rather be buried next to my Harold in Pennsylvania. I lived in Pennsylvania my whole life. Why wouldn’t I want to live there when I was dead? Of course, the spirits in this cemetery are friendly enough and I fit in just fine, but I don’t like leaving my body to go all the way back to Philadelphia to visit Harold’s body. It makes me nervous. What if something happened to my body while I was gone?”

  I think Phyllis would have continued with more useless information if Sophia hadn’t jumped in. “When I was talking to you before, you mentioned that we weren’t the first ghosts to ask about Arthur,” she prompted.

  “Yes. More than one, actually. The first time was about fifty years ago. I think it was around 1960 wasn’t it, Simon?” Phyllis asked.

  “I think that would be a good time estimate. Two ghosts came asking about Arthur, just like you, except they were curious if anyone else in his family was around, too. They particularly asked about you, Sophia,” Simon said.

  “They asked about me?”

  “Yes, they asked if we knew if Arthur’s sister had become a ghost and if she had been around at all. I remember because I thought it was strange. You died, or at least everyone thought you died, when you were two. Babies don’t usually become ghosts,” Phyllis added.

  “What did these ghosts look like? Maybe you knew them when you were alive, Sophia,” I said, finally finding my voice.

  “I think they were definitely a couple. They acted as if they were married. I would guess that they were in their early seventies when they died. They never gave names and I didn’t recognize them at all. Ghosts come and go quite often, you know,” Simon said.

  Phyllis jumped in again. “They looked to be about the same age as me at death. I was seventy-two. The man was robust and very grandfatherly. The woman was shorter, a little plump, and had long gray hair that she kept pulled back in a bun. I’m pretty sure I’ve caught sight of them in town every few years ever since then, but they’ve never approached me, and it’s always been just the two of them.”

  “Phyllis never misses a thing around here,” Simon joked.

  “Sophia, does that description match anyone you know?” Peter asked.

  “Not anyone that I can think of or remember. Most people I knew were younger. I don’t think I ever even met Jeremiah or Elsa’s parents, so I doubt it was grandparents. Maybe it was long lost relatives I don’t remember from when I was young—I mean real relatives. Phyllis, you mentioned that they weren’t the only ones to come asking about Arthur. Who else came?”

  “Well, it was probably a year or two after the first couple came by. A man came and started asking questions—only he didn’t really know what he was looking for. He was actually asking about the other couple and if we’d seen them. When we said that we had, he wanted to know what they’d been doing here. He was a suspicious fellow, if you ask me,” Phyllis added.

  “I don’t suppose he gave his name?” Sophia asked.

  “Sorry, no.”

  “Thank you so much for your help. Maybe I can find this couple somewhere. If you see them again will you call me?”

  Sophia scribbled her cell phone number onto a slip of paper she pulled from her purse and handed it to Phyllis. Then, she reached out to shake the hands of the two accommodating cemetery ghosts. Phyllis decided to forego the handshake and opted for a hug instead.

  “I’m really glad to finally find out what happened on that infamous ship. I hope you’re able to find what you’re looking for so that you can finish your business and be extricated, honey. I sure would like to finish my own business,” Simon said sadly.

  “Oh, Simon. You’re always in such a hurry to leave. Who wants to leave
to go to some unknown place when there’s so much going on down here?” Phyllis quipped.

  Simon rolled his eyes.

  “Maybe I’ll come by to visit another time,” Sophia said and started walking back toward the mausoleum where she’d met Simon and Phyllis. They followed her and soon vanished into the thin night air.

  Sophia came back to the blanket where the three of us were still huddled. Camille relaxed for the first time since we’d started talking to the other ghosts.

  “Now what do we do?” I asked.

  “I guess we’ll just keep checking out places that were important to my family and keep an eye out for this mystery couple. I really can’t think of who it would be.”

  “Does that mean we can go now? I’m pretty sure if I sit here any longer I’m going to freeze to death,” Camille complained as she stood and rocked back and forth on her heels.

  “Yeah. We can go now,” Sophia answered.

  I looked down at my watch. It was past two thirty in the morning. I couldn’t believe we’d stayed out there as long as we had. Peter stood and folded the blanket, shaking the grass, dirt, and crumbs from it first. I wondered if he was over his shock yet.

  He turned to me and handed me the blanket. “So, Jamie, do I get to come with you the next time you search out Sophia’s past, or was this a one-time thing?”

  “I’m sorry, Peter, but you’re stuck with us now. We can’t have you wandering around town potentially telling people about Sophia. Think what it would do to your reputation. You’d be the school idiot.” I winked at him, trying to be flirtatious, but then realized that he probably couldn’t see it in the dark. “Actually, I assumed you’d want to see this through to the end now.”

  He laughed. “Even if you told me I couldn’t come, I’d probably follow you. This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  We piled into Sophia’s little white car. When Peter had come to the cemetery, he intended to walk to a nearby bus stop—after he left the obligatory flowers on his grandparent’s graves—and take a late bus home, but then he met up with us and he never made it to the bus. Sophia drove him home and we promised to call him before we did anything else the next day. There was no way I wasn’t going to call. As we pulled away from Peter’s house it occurred to me that Camille and I had nowhere else to go that night. We were both supposedly sleeping at each other’s homes. We couldn’t exactly show up on our doorsteps in the middle of the night without one of our parents asking questions. I suggested we find a quiet street and sleep in the car. We all had jackets and it wasn’t as if it were the middle of winter. Sophia, however, had other plans.

  “It’s time you met Jack and Rita, my fake parents. You’ll love them. I promise,” Sophia insisted.

  After meeting Simon and Phyllis at the cemetery, and knowing Sophia, I wasn’t really scared to meet more ghosts, but Camille moaned and muttered something about haunted houses under her breath.

  Jack and Rita lived in a modest, well-kept home on a quiet street not far from our high school in nearby Mattapoisett. Flower pots filled with pansies sat on each of the steps leading to the front door. There was a shiny brass knocker and a peephole on the front door. For some reason that made me laugh. I imagined that Jack and Rita didn’t really get a lot of use out of the peephole. Who needed one when you could walk through walls? Camille and I hung back a little as we waited for Sophia to open the door. She just stared at it as if she didn’t know what to do.

  “Uhh . . . I don’t have a key. I guess I’ve never needed one before. Hold on a second.” She disappeared and Camille and I silently looked at each other. We weren’t really sure what to do next, but we didn’t have to wait long because only a moment later the front door opened and Sophia’s smiling face was there to greet us.

  “Welcome to Casa Afterlife,” she declared as she flung the door wide and we stepped inside.

  I didn’t really know what to expect, but judging by the look on Camille’s face and the fact that she was clinging to me, I’m sure she expected to see coffins filled with vampires, bats hanging from the ceiling, cobwebs on all the furniture, and jars filled with body parts on the shelves. The house couldn’t have been more normal and homey. There were beautiful landscape paintings on the walls, fresh flowers in vases on all the little tables, a curio cabinet full of knickknacks, and comfy bright-colored furniture arranged in an inviting manner. It could have belonged to any normal human family.

  “Hello? Sophia, is that you?”

  A lady that looked to be in her late thirties or maybe early forties stood at the top of the stairs wrapped in a fluffy purple robe. Her brown hair was pulled up into curlers and she looked as if she had just woken from a deep sleep.

  “Rita, I’m so sorry I disturbed you. This is Jamie Peters—the one I’ve been telling you about. And this is her friend, Camille.”

  Rita hurried down the stairs and greeted us. “It is so good to meet you. It isn’t often that Jack and I get to meet someone’s soul saver.” She turned back to the staircase and yelled. “Jack. Get down here. Sophia’s brought Jamie over.”

  I quickly jumped in. “There’s no need to wake him up. I can always meet him in the morning.” I felt a little self-conscious. I still wasn’t completely convinced that I really was Sophia’s soul saver. I hadn’t been of much help yet. The way Rita acted you would think I was a movie star.

  “Don’t be silly,” she replied. “Ghosts don’t really have to sleep. We just do it to pass the time. Jack and I try to live as normally as we can so that we don’t make the neighbors nervous. If we had our lights on all night long they would start to talk. Besides, what would we do all night? I can only take so many games of checkers before I want to tear my hair out.” She threw her head back and laughed.

  I liked Rita immediately. She was full of life—even though she was technically dead—and genuine. Jack came down the stairs in a blue robe, almost identical to the one Rita was wearing, and put his arm around her shoulders. He was tall and had brown hair so dark it was almost black. He shook our hands with a firm handshake and a confident smile. I guessed that he had been some sort of businessman when he was still alive.

  “Nice to meet you, Jamie and Camille. Sophia has been telling us about you. I know she was quite nervous about revealing who she really was. I’m glad to see you took it in stride,” Jack said in a deep masculine voice.

  “So what brings you to our doorstep at . . .” Rita looked at an ornate grandfather clock in the corner, “three-thirty in the morning?”

  “We were hoping to find a place for Jamie and Camille to crash for the rest of the night. It’s a long story, but neither of them can go home tonight,” Sophia explained.

  Rita wasn’t fazed at all.

  “By all means. I’ll go grab some blankets and you can sleep right here on these couches if that’s okay.”

  “That would be great,” I said. I turned to Camille, but she had already sat on one of the couches and was in the process of removing her shoes. She was exhausted. Usually Cam and I stayed up late whispering when we had a sleepover, but that night was different. As soon as Rita gave me a blanket and a pillow I laid down on the other couch, and even though I was sleeping in a house full of ghosts, I fell asleep immediately.

  I had no idea how much time had passed when I woke up, but I felt refreshed so I figured it must have been a while. I stretched each muscle slowly before I even opened my eyes. I was warm under the blanket—it smelled like lavender—and I didn’t really want to get up. I finally sat up and looked over at Camille. She still slept deeply with her head turned into the back of the couch, her legs curled up in the fetal position with the blanket wrapped tightly around her body. The curtains were closed and all the lights were off, so I pulled out my phone to check the time. It was ten thirty in the morning.

  It was about that time that I realized what must have woken me. The smell of sizzling bacon and fried eggs wafted in from the kitchen. I rose from the couch to follow the smell down th
e hall.

  I entered the kitchen to find Sophia sitting on a barstool, watching Rita cook. Sophia had changed into a clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Her bare feet showed off her manicured red toenails. Rita, too, was dressed for the day in stylish jeans and a button-up blouse that showed off her slim figure. The curlers were no longer in her hair and it cascaded down her back in subtle curls. Her makeup made her look like a fashion icon. I could see why she and Sophia had hit it off with each other.

  “Good morning. Welcome to my kitchen.”

  “You didn’t have to cook for us, Rita. I know that it’s not necessary for ghosts to eat.”

  “Honey, don’t worry. It was no trouble at all. I love it when I have guests I can cook for. When I was alive, I owned a small diner called Rita’s Place out in San Francisco. This was in the 50s, of course, and people actually knew how to cook back then,” she said as she waved a spatula at me. “I miss getting to do what I did best. Sometimes I cook just to see if my sense of taste has returned, but sadly it never does. I just have to live through my sense of smell.” She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and breathed in slowly through her nose.

  “So is your sense of taste the only thing that changes when you become a ghost?” I asked the two ghosts.

  “Pretty much. Unless you count the whole not-being-able-to-age thing, that is. Our ghostly bodies function almost the same as a real body. If we eat, the food just moves right through us, but if we don’t eat, we’re still okay,” Sophia explained. “It was the strangest feeling I had to get used to when I died.”

  I climbed onto a barstool next to Sophia, and Rita placed a plate full of perfectly cooked scrambled eggs, bacon, waffles, and fresh fruit in front of me. I took a bite and felt like I had died and gone to heaven. Ironic, I know.

  “If you are ever out and about and get hungry, feel free to come over and Rita will happily feed you. We buy groceries to keep up appearances, so we might as well put them to good use,” Jack said as he entered the room.

  He walked straight to Rita and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her so deeply that I became uncomfortable and looked away. Sophia just smiled and looked on. There was a hint of sadness in her smile as she watched the two lovers.

  I waited for them to separate before I asked, “Is it rare for two people who love each other to die and both come back as ghosts? Did the two of you die at the same time or something?”

  Jack laughed. “Nope. I was killed on the beaches of Normandy during World War II. Rita here died when she crashed her car into a tree while trying to apply lipstick on her way to work in 1956.”

  “I’ve gotten better at driving since then.” Rita playfully punched Jack in the arm.

  He continued, “We actually found each other after we died—in 1992 to be exact. Neither of us ever married when we were alive, so we decided to move across the country to places neither of us had ever been so we wouldn’t accidentally extricate and be separated from each other.”

  “Isn’t that the sweetest love story you’ve ever heard?” Sophia asked with a giant grin on her face.

  “It’s definitely up there.” I grinned back.

  “I guess I better get going so I’m not late. I’m meeting a client at eleven.” Jack gave Rita another peck on the cheek and walked out of the room, picking up a briefcase on his way out.

  “You look bewildered, Jamie,” Rita commented as she tossed another waffle onto my plate.

  “Does Jack have a job?”

  “Of course. How else would we pay for the house?”

  “Wow. This just keeps getting crazier. Do you ever work, Sophia?”

  “Sometimes. I look much too young to get any good paying career-type jobs. I can never pass for older than 21 or 22. The only people who want to hire someone who looks as young as me are fast food joints or big box retailers. Neither of those options appeals to me so sometimes I have to find alternative ways of earning money.” Sophia squirmed in her seat. The new topic of conversation made her uncomfortable.

  I looked to Rita, but her head was down and she avoided eye contact with me.

  “Alternative ways?” I prodded.

  “You know, things that might not be the most honest.”

  I raised my eyebrows and gave Sophia a questioning look.

  “Jamie, please don’t judge me. I wouldn’t do it if I had any other choice. When I don’t have money I have to live an invisible life and that pretty much sucks. I get so bored. When I have money I can come and go as I please and interact with living people.” She was so defensive.

  “I’m not going to judge you, Sophia. In the last week or so my definition of reality has been turned upside down. I might as well reevaluate the definition of right and wrong while I’m at it.”

  “Jack might have an honest job right now, but we’ve had moments we’re not very proud of, too,” Rita said quietly. “It’s pretty easy for a ghost to shoplift and pickpocket, you know. We’ve never felt good about it, but sometimes it has to be done if we want to live in a world where we can be seen. We were pretty creative for a while. We discovered that if we tried really hard we could see through lottery tickets at the convenience stores. One of us would go to the register in our human form while the other one would remain invisible and prompt us on which tickets to buy. When that worked out so well we got even more creative. Sometimes we would go to those bingo halls that are usually only frequented by senior citizens and rig the outcome in our favor. We convinced ourselves that most of the people there had social security checks and retirement accounts and didn’t really need the prize money.” She stopped talking and looked right at me, gauging my reaction.

  “That is pretty creative,” I said slowly.

  “I’ve been known to dress up in rags and beg on the street corners. You’d be surprised at what people are willing to give you if you have the right words written on your cardboard sign,” Sophia said. “I’m ashamed to say it, but back in the 20s I was at a low point. I had long given up on haunting Jeremiah and Elsa and I’d been wandering the world trying to find a purpose. I discovered that men were willing to buy anything for a pretty face if they were drunk enough.”

  “Sophia. Did you . . . prostitute yourself?” We all turned our heads to the doorway where Camille stood with a horrified expression on her face. I wondered how long she’d been standing there listening.

  Sophia’s face fell as if she were hurt. “No. Of course not. I mean, I would flirt and pretend to be interested, maybe let them kiss me once or twice so that they would buy me things, but I would never stoop to that level, Camille. I promise. I’ve honestly never cared about anyone since Nick left me. Besides, this was the roaring 20s. Women were starting to be a little looser and guys were taking advantage of it. Have you ever heard of a speakeasy?”

  “Isn’t that where they would sell illegal alcohol during prohibition?” Camille asked as she sat down next to me.

  “Yes.”

  I laughed out loud.

  “Why is that so funny?” Sophia asked.

  “I’m just picturing you in a flapper dress on the arm of Al Capone.”

  “Al Capone was overweight and he totally wasn’t my type.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was being serious or not, so I didn’t respond.

  “I never drank at those establishments. Actually, I’ve never drank anywhere. I watched my parents—I mean Jeremiah and Elsa—drink enough when I was alive. I’ve never liked the way people act when they’re drunk. It makes them too vulnerable. I’m sure it wouldn’t affect me now that I’m a ghost, but it’s just never seemed like the right thing to do. Anyway, when the men were drunk they were pretty willing to give me a wad of cash and tell me to go buy myself something pretty.”

  “For someone who isn’t actually living, you’ve led a pretty full life,” I said.

  Sophia smiled. “I know. I’ve had some pretty neat experiences that I wouldn’t trade for anything, but now I feel like it’s time for it all to be done. That’s why I’m trying
so hard to finish my business and be extricated. I’ve done everything I can here and I’m ready to know what comes next.”

  Rita reached over and squeezed Sophia’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll know soon, honey.”

  After Camille and I had eaten enough to feed a small army, we thanked Rita for her hospitality and announced that we’d better go home.

  We started to walk out the door, but as an afterthought, Sophia turned around and asked Rita if she’d ever seen any ghosts around Marion that fit the description of the couple in their seventies that Phyllis had told us about.

  She thought about it for a second and then perked up. “Yeah. I think I know who you’re talking about. Jack and I met a ghost couple when we were out taking a walk one evening a couple of years ago. They would probably fit that description. They introduced themselves as John and Elizabeth Godfrey.”

  Sophia dropped the car keys she’d been holding and grabbed for the doorframe to keep herself from falling. She was as pale as a—for lack of a better word—ghost.

  I grabbed her arm to help steady her. “Sophia, what’s wrong?”

  She took a moment to compose herself and then in a very soft voice whispered, “John and Elizabeth Godfrey are the names Jeremiah and Elsa used when they were conning people.”