“Finally.” Meredith huffed out a breath as she finished grading the last essay test for the semester. Once she entered her students’ grades into the community college’s system, she’d have to figure out what to do for income over the summer break. Barista at Starbucks maybe? Tutoring? “How about I start charging for ghost whispering?” she muttered.
Requiring payment to help people rid their homes of unwelcome spirits would not go over well with the MacCarthy family at large. Their gifts were meant to be shared, not sold, and she agreed—most of the time.
Others profited from their talents. Singers, actors, athletes, writers, and artists made money from their giftedness. The lucky ones did, anyway. Why shouldn’t she profit from her abilities? Her sisters would applaud and encourage her rebellion.
Meredith raised her arms and stretched, moving her neck to unkink the muscles. She needed a break, and her favorite supernatural tabloid offered exactly the kind of outlandish, sensationalized, ridiculous distraction she craved—a guilty pleasure since her own college days. Meredith hit the bookmarked website and began scanning articles.
Spirit of Deceased Zoologist Possesses Elephant Calf at Local Zoo. She snorted. Sure it was possible, but not probable. What would be the point? Poor baby. The elephant probably had some kind of illness or a parasite.
She continued to scroll, coming to a stop when an article popped out at her as if it had been written in super bold font.
U.S. Bureau of Land Management seeks volunteer staff for haunted ghost town.
An odd, tingly sensation took hold, and her mouth went old-bones dry as she began to read. The bureau was looking for people to live in what was left of Garretsville, Montana. While there, volunteers would lead tours, provide information, run the giftshop, and maintain the buildings and grounds. The once thriving mining town was rumored to be haunted. People reported hearing music and laughter in Keoghan’s saloon. Others heard footsteps and doors opening and closing.
Something traumatic must have happened in Garretsville for so many spirits to haunt the same site. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for the unfortunate souls who were trapped, but she could fight the pull their plight exerted on her.
Meredith leaned back on her couch and rubbed her weary eyes. The summer session she had planned to teach hadn’t materialized, and volunteering was out of the question. How would she pay the rent on her apartment here in Tennessee while spending the entire summer volunteering in Montana? All the bureau offered was a food allowance and a place to stay.
Sure, she had savings, but that money was tagged for her doctorate degree in American History. She had no intention of using any of her hard-earned nest egg for some wild impulse to help a bunch of ghosts move on. Come hell or high water, she would begin her doctoral program within the next two years. Becoming a tenure-track professor at a private college was her ticket to a new life, and she desperately needed a new life. Now that both her sisters lived an ocean away, everything had changed and not for the better.
Besides, a career in academia appealed to her. She imagined lively debates with the other professors in her department, and of course there would be social gatherings. More than anything Meredith longed to find her own place in this crazy world. She needed to find her tribe.
Who knew? She might even meet a handsome young professor who didn’t mind that she could see and commune with the dead. Her abilities could even be viewed as an asset. What historian wouldn’t want to learn from a ghost who’d actually lived through whatever era they were researching?
Meredith scrolled on. Some other medium would have to help the Garretsville ghosties on their way. In fact, she’d share the information on the bulletin board of the American Association of Psychics & Mediums’ website.
Still, Meredith couldn’t help herself. She returned to the article and read through the entire thing one more time, and the same sense of … What was this feeling? Dammit, whatever the sensation meant, it didn’t matter. She needed a paying summer job.
Just as she closed her laptop, her phone began to vibrate and ring its way across the surface of her coffee table with her aunt’s ringtone. Snatching it up, she hit accept. “Hi, Aunt Beth. What’s up?”
“I don’t know. You tell me,” she said. “Whatever you were doing a moment ago caused all kinds of pings on my psychic sonar. My spidey sense tells me you’re about to