"Susan?" He shifted in his chair. I had the feeling he hadn't been totally honest with me about their relationship but couldn't put my finger on what he'd left out.
"Did Harlow by chance tell you I'm a tarot reader? A lot of folks also consider me the town witch."
He coughed but covered it up as quickly as he could. "Well, no. That didn't come up. Are you? The town witch, I mean."
"Not exactly. Well, close enough so—yeah, I guess I am. So anyway. Does that bother you?"
His lips spread out in a big smile. "Bother me? I grew up Catholic but left the church years ago. So long as you don't go all Blair Witch on me, I don't care what you believe. Is that all? How does this relate to Susan?"
So far, so good. Here came the hard part. "You see, over the years I've dealt with more than my share of spirits."
His smile began to fade. "Spirits? As in ghosts?"
"Yes, as in ghosts." I could tell that he was pulling back. Most people were fine with the idea of alternative beliefs until we tossed actual magic and mysticism in their face. Once faced with the reality, they backtracked fast. Like the first black family on the block or a new Jewish neighbor, everything seemed safe enough as long as it was theoretical. The old "not in my neighborhood" attitude still prevailed.
I decided to spill it. "Last night, the spirit of Susan Mitchell appeared in my bedroom. There has to be some reason why she approached me, so I'm trying to find out more about her." Might as well keep it general; the last thing I needed was for her husband to slap a lawsuit for slander on me, should Andrew decide I was deranged and go blabbing about what I told him.
He edged out of his chair. "Let me get this straight. Susan's ghost appeared in your bedroom last night?"
I nodded.
"How do you know it was her?" There was an odd inflection in his voice, and I knew that I'd hit a nerve.
"She told me," I said. Not quite a lie. He didn't need to see the papers with the spirit writing on them yet.
He cocked his head and frowned. "Susan's spirit not only appeared in your room, but she talked to you? What did she have to say?"
I sighed. This was going just about like I'd expected. He wouldn't believe me, and I'd never get him to talk about her. And after this, I sincerely doubted if he'd want to date me, either. "She has some unfinished business, and I wanted to help her out. Is this bothering you? Should I just drop the subject?"
He carried the dishes over to the sink. "I just don't know what to believe. I mean, a good friend of mine dies, and then some stranger tells me that she saw my friend's ghost—it's a lot to take in. I'm not sure what I think." He seemed antsy, and I waited for him to make a mad dash for the door, but after pouring himself a glass of water, he sat down at the table again. "Have you always seen spirits?"
Had I? When I thought about it, the answer was yes—ever since I was a little girl. It had gotten so bad that I developed a pattern of insomnia that never quite left. "Yeah, actually. It used to scare the hell out of me; when I saw The Sixth Sense, the movie struck home so much it freaked me out. When my Nanna came to live with us, she taught me to handle having the sight. She taught me a lot of things."
He played with the salt and pepper shakers. After a moment he asked, "How often does this happen? I mean, do you hear voices in your head? Do you talk with spirit guides? I guess what I'm asking…"
I exhaled slowly. "What you're asking is if I'm nuts. No, I'm not. I don't hear voices in my head. I usually rely on common sense more than spirit guides, though I do pay attention to my intuition. Spirits show up in my house once in a while, but not on a regular basis."
"You're sure it was Susan?" He pressed his lips together. I had the feeling that if it had been any other spirit, he wouldn't be so freaked.
"When I saw the article in the paper this morning, I recognized her right away. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought this up." It had been a long day, and all I wanted to do was to snuggle up in my bathrobe and crash out on the sofa with the kids.
He must have sensed my mood, because he glanced at the clock. It was ten-thirty. "It's late and I'd better go home. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
There wasn't much left to say, so I escorted him to the door, where he slipped on his boots and coat and headed down the sidewalk. He turned back briefly, as if he were going to say something, then shook his head and waved a tight little wave and continued to his car. I shut the door and locked it behind me.
Great, another guy who thought I was nuts. Life sucked sometimes.
Chapter Four
TAP, TAP, TAP. Tap, tap, tap. The noises started around midnight, waking me out of a nightmare. Worn out from the roller-coaster day, I lurched out of bed as a knock ricocheted across the ceiling. Did it come from my dream, or was it real? I listened, squinting into the darkness. No, there it was, and another, deep, as if embedded within the wooden beams overhead. The only thing above the ceiling was crawl space and roof. Squirrels, maybe? They were all over the trees, the little buggers. Remembering Nanna's advice, I searched for the obvious. Play the skeptic, I could hear my grandmother saying, until you can no longer dismiss what you've seen.
My door flew open, and Kip came running in. "S-s-s-s-omething's in my room!" Something must have scared him—he was stuttering, an old problem that surfaced only when he was afraid.
My son had never suffered from "monster under the bed" syndrome; if he said something was in his room, something was. I'd chased away more than one creepy-crawly that decided to hang out in his closet. Lost souls flocked to bright young spirits like moths to a flame. I managed to keep the house warded, but once in awhile, things still got past my guard. He crawled into my arms and leaned against my chest as I sat down on the bed and stroked his hair. The sounds on the ceiling continued, though fainter. I asked him what he had seen.
"A lady. I woke up because I thought I heard you crying. She was leaning over my bed and she seemed pretty upset. She was trying to tell me something. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. I saw something big and bad in back of her, like a shadow. When I turned on my light, they both disappeared." He shivered. "Was she the reason you couldn't sleep last night?"
He knew, he always knew. I tried to avoid lying to my children. I wanted them to trust me. "I saw her for the first time last night. She asked me to help her. I guess I'm not acting fast enough to make her happy."