by Sheila Lowe
In the kitchen he introduced her to the chef, Leon Small, who was anything but. Leon was busy putting the garnishes on lunch.
“Nutritious and delicious,” he said, flashing a smile that gleamed against mahogany skin. Viewing the array of sliced turkey, fruit, and salad vegetables set out on a long table beside loaves of steaming bread fresh from the oven, Jessica was inclined to believe him. Leon told them his helper, his granddaughter, Akilah, was setting tables in the dining room and they left him to his preparations.
“What about the mural you told me you’re painting in the dining room?” Jessica asked as they left the kitchen.
“Some of the kids and me. I’ll show it to you when it’s done.”
“Okay.”
He showed her the nurse’s office and the six bedrooms, each with four beds—half for the younger kids, half for the older ones. There were two additional bedrooms for the psychologist in residence and an aide. Student artwork decorated the walls in all the hallways.
“This seems like the kind of place where a kid could thrive,” said Jessica.
“We have a consulting psychologist and two others on staff full-time, plus three clinical social workers—one is a registered nurse who also teaches. And currently we have three volunteers.” Something caught his attention past Jessica’s shoulder. He beckoned. “Hey, look who’s here. Hey, Annabelle, c’mon over.”
Turning, Jessica saw a petite teen who did not look much older than some of the students. She wore her long hair in a sleek, black ponytail that swung behind her as she approached. A dark fringe fell over her eyebrows. She did a slight chin jerk in greeting and gazed at Jessica with frank curiosity. “Hey, Sage. What’s up?”
“You and Jessica know each other, don’t you?”
“Jessica?” the girl echoed. “Claudia’s friend?”
“You know Claudia?” Jessica said. Then it clicked. The name was not all that common. “Oh, wait, you’re Claudia’s Annabelle?”
“Yep, that’s me.”
Sage seemed amused by their reactions. “You two have never met?”
Jessica shook her head. “In all the time I’ve known Claudia, this is the first time Annabelle and I have come face-to-face.”
“I know, huh? Kinda crazy,” said Annabelle.
“So, you’re a volunteer here?”
The dark head bobbed up and down. “I started last month and I love it. I come once a week and I get work credit at school, too.”
Jessica calculated her age. “You must be a senior, right?”
“Yep. I graduate in June.”
“Wow, that’s great. So, you’re killing two birds with one stone. Not that I throw stones at birds, of course.” As she was speaking, a soft voice entered Jessica’s head.
“For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams;
Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee.”
A woman in spirit was now standing at Annabelle’s left side, hazy but definitely present.
While Annabelle rolled her eyes at the inane comment about bird killing, Jessica spoke telepathically to the woman.
The poem by Poe? Who are you?
“And this maiden she lived with no other thought;
Than to love and be loved by me.”
“I gotta go help Akilah,” said Annabelle, twirling with a finger wave. “Nice meeting you, Jessica.”
“Nice meeting you, too. Say hi to Claudia for me.”
“I will.”
As the teen started to turn away, the woman in spirit reached out to caress her hair. The girl jerked as if feeling the touch. Looking puzzled, she reached up and scratched her head. She then shrugged and continued along the hallway and out of sight.
The spirit woman was a true beauty. She looked young—late twenties—and wore modern clothing. Who was she and why did she want to talk about Annabelle? Remembering Bella’s advice, Jessica asked the spirit to leave. This was not the time nor the place to blab to the girl that a dead lady was here and wanted to contact her. To her relief, the spirit obeyed and faded back into the ether, or wherever she had come from.
“This is my office,” Sage said, showing her inside. “If there’s anyone who can relate to these kids on their own level, it’s Annabelle. Her mom was killed in a car accident when she was six years old.”
Her mom. Cha ching.
“I remember Claudia told me she was raised by a rotten stepfather and attempted suicide more than once before she was fourteen,” said Jessica. Should she try to call the spirit woman back? “She was kidnapped, then went to live with Claudia until her dad was able to take her. That’s a load of trauma for a kid her age.”
“Yes, and she’s had loads of therapy,” Sage said. “Annabelle is the youngest volunteer and came to us through Claudia.” He grinned. “She would like us to think that she doesn’t care too much, but if you ever watch her with the kids, it’s obvious that she loves working with them. It’s going to be hard on her when this group graduates. The younger ones fall all over themselves to get her attention.”
“I guess the best person for the job is someone who’s been there.”
“I think so, too.”
Would Annabelle welcome hearing from her dead mother?
Duh. Who wouldn’t want to hear from the mother you’d lost as a kid?
Sage was giving her that quizzical look. Wondering where her mind was, she guessed. Again. Maybe he was already questioning her sanity. And then she thought of Bella’s parting words. What charges?
“Oh, Sage, I’m so sorry. I just remembered a call I’ve got to make. Would you mind if—”
He put up his hands to cut short her apology. “Take your time. Come find me in the foyer when you’re ready.”
The moment he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door, Jessica sent an urgent message to Annabelle’s mother in spirit. Not knowing her name, she concentrated on Annabelle and the apparition she had seen.
Come now. Connect with me, please. Tell me what you want her to know.
Seconds later, her hand started tingling, like pins and needles. As if someone else had taken control of her hand, she fished her phone from her purse and began tapping on the keyboard, faster than she had typed in her entire life. As soon as she pressed send, she regained control of her hand.
She looked at the screen. She had sent a text to Claudia:
Tell Annabelle: check left rear tire before driving. Urgent. Will explain later.
Jessica spoke telepathically to Annabelle’s mother.
What’s wrong with her tire?
“Don’t let her drive until it’s fixed. My beautiful Annabelle Lee.”
With that, the young mother faded again. Jessica went out to the foyer to meet Sage. Annabelle was entering through the front doors from the outside, a worried frown on her face.
“One of my front tires is way low,” she said to Sage. “I’ve gotta call AAA to come and change it. Is it okay to let them through the gate?”
“If you have a spare I can change it for you.”
“My dad always takes care of stuff like that,” she frowned, looking baffled. “It’s so weird. I just got a text from Claudia. She said to check my tires right away. I wonder what made her do that.”
Sage sent a suspicious glance at Jessica, who was doing her best to look innocent. She said, “Wow, I guess she must be psychic. Thank goodness. You wouldn’t want to get a flat tire on the way home.”
“Right, huh? Especially at that curvy section of PCH right next to the ocean? It’d be so scary to have a problem there. You could go right off the road.” Annabelle gave a little shudder. “That’s what happened to my mom.”
Jessica, who was not a touchy-feely person, reached over and gave her a quick hug. “She’s watching over you. I bet she gave Claudia the idea to send you that text.”
Annabelle looked at her strangely. “You really think so?”
“I really do.”
“If you’ve got a decent spare, it won’t take long,” Sage said. “Jes
sica, you can hang out in here, if you like, and kid-watch.”
“Sounds good.”
They walked off together. Annabelle looked back at her with a huge smile and Jessica sent a silent thank you to the woman in spirit, who she was now certain was the girl’s mother. It made perfect sense for someone who had died in a car accident to watch out for her daughter’s safety on the road.
Following her phone call to Roneisha Carpenter about her little boy, Mason, it felt good to deliver another well-received message. It canceled out Mean Grocery Store Guy, Jessica decided, feeling pleased with herself.
A gong sounded and the classroom doors opened. Children spilled out into the hallway.
“Remember, walk, don’t run,” the older teacher called after them.
Jessica watched them hurry to the dining room, walking in pairs, some chattering to a companion, others head-down, shy or perhaps avoiding eye contact.
If only Justin—she cut off the thought. Her wistful yearning would not bring him back. She reminded herself to be grateful that he had come to her in spirit. Most grieving mothers lived without the knowledge that their children were safe and alive in another world. It made her want to become a spiritual evangelist and tell them all the truth.
The kids at the Center were here because they had suffered terrible harm. Instead of spending energy on the impossible dream of cuddling her own child, she could use it to send out waves of love to these children, the way Bella had said that her grandmother was sending love to her. So, that’s what she did.
Osteria Monte Grappa in Downtown Ojai billed itself as an ItalAgriGastroBar.
Their table was under an umbrella among the trees on the patio. The sun was pale in a bright blue sky, the temperature cool. Space heaters kept them comfortable.
Sage made his choice and laid down the menu. His hands were slim and well-shaped with long fingers. On his right hand he wore a gold ring with a green stone.
“That’s a beautiful ring,” Jessica said.
He thanked her and slipped it off, passed it across the table. Seeing it up close, she was intrigued. On each side was a carved design that resembled a cross, but whose top arm was instead a loop.
“That’s an ankh. It’s the Egyptian symbol of life.”
“I’ve never seen a stone quite like that.”
“It’s called green copper turquoise. It has healing properties. It’s supposed to get rid of negative energy and instill calm. I’m not sure whether it works, but I like to think so.”
“You do have a serene sort of air about you,” said Jessica, liking the fact that he was secure enough to let her know he was interested in things like Egyptian symbols and healing.
He grinned. “You haven’t seen me in traffic.”
Once they had ordered and the waiter left them alone, he sat back and said nothing, just looked at her.
“How long have you lived in Ojai?” Jessica asked, feeling pushed to fill the silence.
“Since I was a young kid. How long have you been a medium?” When she gasped, he smiled. “Bella told me she got a strong message about you.”
Jessica quirked an eyebrow at him, relieved that he knew her secret and was still here with her, and annoyed with Bella for telling him, all at the same time. “And here I thought you were psychic. The fact is, I’m just beginning to learn what a medium is. That’s why I asked about Bella’s Association.”
The sapphire eyes bored into hers, sparking with interest. “You mean you’ve just started getting messages?”
She had gone through her explanation with Jenna and Dr. Gold. The third time, it was getting easier. “I’ve heard spirit for several years but until recently, I ignored them.”
Right at that moment, Dr. Gold’s dead wife, Madeleine, chose to appear. This time she brought with her the same female spirit that had showed up when Sage came to collect the German Shepherd sculpture.
The two women stood together, arms linked, a good-looking pair who resembled each other, dressed in a style of clothing that Jessica guessed was from the 1950s. The woman with Madeleine was pointing at Sage.
“You look distracted,” said Sage. “Are you seeing something now?”
“Yes, and I’m confused. There’s a woman I’ve seen twice before. She showed up the day you came to my house. Now she’s brought another woman with her but they’re not telling me what they want. Normally I would think they belong to you because they’re standing on your left, which is the mother’s side, according to Bella. What’s confusing me is, they showed up at my therapist’s office, too. One of them is his ex-wife and she wanted me to give him a message. Why are they here with you?”
Sage was gazing at her with an intensity that made his eyes spark. “Do you mind if I ask who your therapist is?”
“His name is Zebediah Gold, why?”
He nodded as if expecting her answer. “He’s our consulting psychologist.”
“I guess that makes sense, with you knowing Claudia. So why is his ex and this other lady—she keeps pointing at you—”
“The other lady is my mother.”
Jessica’s mouth dropped. “Your mother?”
“Zebediah’s ex-wife is my Aunt Maddy—Madeleine Maynard. She’s the one who left me the money I used to fund the Center and…another project. My mother, Regina Boles, and Aunt Maddy, were sisters. They both died within a few months of each other, not very long ago—less than two years.”
The shadow that crossed his face reached right inside her and twisted her heart as if his pain were her own. “Oh, Sage, you’ve had two huge losses so close together. I’m so sorry. I had no idea it was your aunt who gave me a message for Dr. Gold to give to you—that she is proud of what you’ve done. Now it all makes sense. You’ve created a wonderful legacy in her name.”
“She deserves it,” he said. “When Zebediah gave me the message, he just told me it came through a client. Jessica, this is huge.”
“True, that.” Her eyes focused on the space to his right, where the two women in spirit were standing. She said, “Your mom has a big grin. She’s making her hands into a heart. That’s so sweet. Oh, they’re fading away. I think they just wanted you to know they’re here and that they love you, and they’re still in your life since they crossed to the other side.”
Sage’s eyes were glistening. He swallowed hard. “I’m happy they’re together again.”
“Me, too.” Jessica gave him a long look. “So, knowing what you know about me now, you don’t think I’m a total weirdo?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He grinned. “The truth is, I think you’re amazing and I’d like the chance to get to know you better.”
Annoyed with herself blushing in front of him yet again, Jessica said, “I think you’re pretty amazing yourself, using your inheritance to help these kids.”
He shrugged as if the money meant nothing to him. “Maddy was obscenely wealthy and had no kids of her own, so she made me her heir. My grandfather disinherited my mother when she ran away from home. He was a big muckety-muck attorney with tons of family money. Maddy got it all when he died—my grandmother had already passed. Then, a few years later, Maddy’s second husband was killed in a plane crash. He owned a bank and was loaded. So…you get the picture.”
“You didn’t have to use it that way. You’re a good guy, Sage.”
“Do you always make such quick judgments?”
Jessica, who had been stirring sweetener into her iced tea, looked up. “What?”
“We’ve barely met. What makes you think I’m a good guy?”
“Well—I can only judge by what I’ve seen, and…”
“You should be more careful,” he said. Then he smiled again, slow and easy. “Ah, I’m just yankin’ your chain. You’ve got all those spirits to warn you if there’s a problem.”
All those spirits. Jessica reached up and touched the pentacle necklace that she wore under her clothing. She thought again of Bella’s words, and wondered.
What charges against Sa
ge?
THIRTEEN
“No new information today in the desperate search for four-year-old Ethan Starkey.”
News anchor Jeanine Riley was known to get emotional in cases involving children. With her wavy blonde hair and large eyes, it played well for the camera. Shuffling papers on her desk, pouting her botoxed lips, she looked earnestly into the camera.
“The Thousand Oaks child was reported missing after his father failed to return him home from a trip to Disneyland last Thursday. What kind of father takes a boy away from his mother like that? She’s been pleading for his safe return ever since. Police have released surveillance footage from the hotel where the pair was staying. Our own Keith Lewis is outside the Federal Office Building in West L.A. Keith, tell us what’s happening.”
The screen had been displaying grainy black and white security video of Trey Starkey walking out of a hotel, Ethan beside him. Over and over, the station replayed the scene. A man and his son, walking over to Disneyland from their hotel. To any onlooker, nothing was out of the ordinary.
The screen switched to a reporter on the sidewalk in front of the Federal Building sign in Los Angeles. Mid-thirties, short hair brushed straight up, his face arranged in a serious expression. He brought the microphone up to his face. “Unfortunately, Jeanine, there are apparently no new leads in this investigation. As we’ve just seen in the security cam images released earlier today by the FBI, the boy’s father, Trey Starkey, and his young son Ethan entered their hotel. They left around six o’clock last Thursday evening and haven’t been seen since. The boy was last spotted wearing denim jeans, a medium-blue, hooded sweatshirt with characters from the Despicable Me movie on the front, and black high-top sneakers. The FBI called this press conference and we’re waiting for Ethan’s mother, Abby Starkey, to speak to us.” He turned to check behind him. “I think she’s ready, Jeanine. Here we go.”