The Guidance - By Marley Gibson Page 0,13

rolled out the red carpet and welcomed them like the fine Southern women they were, hoping Sherman wouldn't burn Radisson as he had other towns," she explains.

Celia had told me a similar tale. In fact, the mansion that she and her family live in was the mayor's house back during the Civil War. And it was a woman who kept Sherman from burning it to the ground. Girl power, baby! Even back then.

"I think this guy is a major or something. At least, that's the impression I'm getting. He's dressed in Union blue and he's got that little cap on."

It's at this moment that the keys literally heat up in my hand. At first, I think it's just my palms sweating over the on-the-spot reading. But no. It's not just a warm sensation. The keys suddenly seem fiery against my skin, scorching so much that I have to let them drop to the floor. That's when I see the face of the Union soldier, and the look in his eyes nails me to the seat.

"Kendall?" Loreen prods. "Are you all right?"

I turn to her, sure that my face is ashen. "I swear, he looks familiar to me."

"Have you seen him somewhere in your investigations?"

I bend down to retrieve the keys, which are a normal temperature now. He could be one of the soldier apparitions I saw in the Radisson cemetery a couple of months ago. Heaven knows, they all sort of look alike to me with their scraggly beards and war-worn faces. There's just something so, so ... sinister about him. Talk about the heebie-jeebies.

My right eye begins to twitch, and my stomach hurts like I ate dinner too late and then went straight to bed. The nausea rolls around, making me dizzy, when I begin to hear the sinister laugh that I heard last night at the Lockhart house. Is that same ghost appearing in my current vision just to mess with me, or was he actually around during the Civil War?

"Kendall, you've gone pale," Evelyn says. "Maybe you should stop."

"I guess I kind of overdid it or something," I say weakly. I don't want to scare Evelyn if it's only a spirit mucking around with me. But it did seem like this soldier was in that time period.

Loreen hands me a bottle of water. "Very good, Kendall. You'll get better and better with more practice."

I give Evelyn her keys back. "Thanks," I say to both of them. "I'm sorry I couldn't get more."

"No, that was very impressive," Evelyn says. "You got my great-great-grandmother's name, Ada Parry, you described her house—which is my house—and you knew she was involved with Sherman and his troops. Very impressive indeed, young lady."

Gulping the liquid into my parched throat, I smile and again say, "Thanks."

Miss Evelyn returns the keys to her bag and stands up. "Well, I should get going. Loreen, it was a pleasure, as always. Thanks for the advice."

"I'll be praying for you, your mom, and your sister," Loreen says.

Nodding, Evelyn turns back to me. "And Kendall, if you want to visit my house, I have a lot of memorabilia from Great-great-grandmother Ada. You're welcome over any time."

This may be just the research I need to nail down who this laughing soldier spirit is.

"That's totally awesome," I say exuberantly. "I mean, thanks."

She smiles at me, a brilliant white smile. "That's okay. I have a teenage daughter. I'm used to the lingo."

I listen for the tinkle of the front-door bell to let me know that Loreen and I are alone, and then I sprawl out on the chair. "God, that was exhausting. And I barely got any information!"

I feel Loreen tug on my hair. "You're still learning, Kendall. I'm so glad to see that you're testing new things and trying to help people with your skills."

Suddenly, the rush of anxiety over the Courtney situation floods back. My apprehension picks up, as does the crazy rhythm of my overanxious heart. I'm short of breath, and I can't stop replaying the ridiculous scenes with her over and over, like it's some sort of sick DVR recording that won't delete from the queue. Her words are like pinpricks, each one taking a nip at my psyche, at my soul. It's like being pecked to death by baby ducks. Evil, devilish, bitchy baby ducks.

Loreen reaches for her ceramic teacup and then takes a seat on the couch. She folds her jeaned legs up underneath her and looks at me worriedly. "Tell me what this Courtney person