by Leanna Sain
Her invitation to supper caught me off guard. That was bad enough, but then she told me where she lived. It’s why I ran off and hid last night. Even now, thinking about it had me gnawing my lip. Still…no reason to sneak off into the shadows and watch the girl look everywhere for me. Why was this scaring me so badly? Why did it feel like a storm was brewing?
Because cutting myself off from people after Rose died was the safe way. No interaction meant I couldn’t be hurt. If I met her this morning, told her about the bag and what I’d seen in the alley, I’d be opening myself up to change, and change was unpredictable. Cleo was the only person—other than my sister and Raymond—who I’d talked to in almost half a century. It stirred up emotions I thought had died along with Rose. I’d actually enjoyed the time I’d spent with the girl. I even laughed. Couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. It felt good.
But if I allowed one emotion to slip through, wouldn’t others follow? Could I do it? Did I want to resurrect old feelings and all that went with them?
Scary to think about. Change always was. Like in my dream last night.
I stood in front of a door. The word, CHANGE, was written in big, bold letters on a sign over it. My hand was on the doorknob. Should I turn it? Step through? No turning back, if I did. No way to undo the decision. Once I took the step, the door would lock behind me, and I didn’t have the key to open it again. What was on the other side? Good or bad? Happiness or doom?
Doom? I snorted. For heaven’s sakes, get a grip, old woman. Cut the melodrama. Just go meet the girl, already.
I grabbed the doorknob.
“Where are you going?” Rose demanded, popping out of nowhere and scaring the living daylights out of me.
“Oh, Rose!” I gasped and pressed my hand to my chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack. You need a hat like mine. The bells would give advanced warning so I could hear you coming. You wouldn’t be able to sneak up on me.”
“There aren’t any other hats like yours, and don’t try to change the subject,” she snapped. “Where are you going?”
“Out.” I picked at invisible lint on my overcoat, avoiding my sister’s eyes. Rose had the uncanny ability to transform me back into the gangly eight year-old version of myself, malleable, able to be bossed around by my big sister. “Why?”
The air between us fairly crackled with tension, I could almost see the sparks. She was incredulous at my response. I’d never stood up to her before. I always capitulated to her wishes. She studied me through narrowed eyes, then suddenly changed tactics. “We-ell…” She made her voice soft and pitiful. “…I was thinking we could spend some time together. I was gone all day yesterday—”
“And all night.”
She arched a perfectly tweezed brow at me. “And all night, and I thought we could have a girl’s day. You know…like old times,” she wheedled.
I opened my mouth to relent, then snapped it shut. No. Not again. I knew what she was doing, and I wouldn’t let her get away with it this time. One of her ghost friends must’ve seen me with Cleo yesterday and told her about it. That’s the only reason she’d pull this trick. She didn’t do, “girls days.” “Sorry, but I already have plans.”
“You’re going to meet her.”
It was a statement, not a question. I was right. She already knew. Wasn’t sure how, but she knew. I raised my chin a notch. “I told her I would, so I am. Why is it okay for you to talk to people and not me?”
“Why is—” she broke off, then shook her head. “I can see your mind’s made up,” she sniffed. “If you’re not going to listen to reason, then…” her voice trailed off.
I knew what she was waiting for. It was the same thing she always waited for, but this time it wasn’t going to happen. I wasn’t giving in.
Silence was a rubber band stretched between us. I clamped my lips in a stubborn line and gave her a defiant glare.
Finally, Rose huffed, “Fine! Whatever happens is on your head. Just don’t come running back to me, expecting to be babied when it all hits the fan!” Then she disappeared in an angry flash of red.
I let out the breath I’d been holding, unaware that I’d been holding it. Wow! I did it. I actually stood up to my sister for maybe the first time in my life, and it felt good. Really good. It had been years since I’d made a decision on my own. I’d forgotten how it felt.
“Okay, Lily,” I whispered while squaring my shoulders as I faced the door, hand on the knob. “Time’s a wasting. You have a meeting to get to.”
Chapter Six
Cleo
I didn’t think I’d ever get to sleep, but I guess I did. I remember the numbers on my alarm clock telling it was 2:47, and the next thing I knew there was weak, winter sunlight streaming through my window. I fumbled for my phone and squinted at the time.
“Ten o’clock!” I shrieked, flinging the covers back and leaping out of bed. Tut gazed quizzically at me from his spot on the other pillow. “How could it be ten o’clock? Why’d you let me sleep so late? I’m supposed to meet Lily in an hour and the walk itself will take over half of that time.”
My cat just blinked at me. Some help he was.
I raced into the bathroom, tossing my pajamas on the floor before hurrying into the ridiculously large, walk-in shower. Every action needed to be done in triple-time if I didn’t want to be late. I was off-schedule and I didn’t like it. My morning routine rarely varied. I liked to rise early, take a leisurely shower, enjoying the intense drenching that the dinner-plate sized shower head always gave me. Not this morning, though. Time was of the essence.
I probably would’ve stayed in my own suite of rooms on the third floor after Aunt Patricia died, but for this bathroom. Besides the luxuriant shower, there was a massive claw-foot tub, practically big enough to swim in, double dressing tables (don’t ask me why…maybe wishful thinking on my aunt’s part), and a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ten foot ceiling! Yes, a chandelier in the bathroom. This room was what prompted my move downstairs to the master suite. I just couldn’t resist it.
I was in and out of the shower in a jiffy. Grabbing a thick towel, I gave myself a brisk rub-down before wrapping it around me and zipping a comb through my hair, then blasting it with my hairdryer. I eyed myself critically in the mirror and then shrugged. There was no time for make-up.
Racing back into the bedroom, I snatched a pair of jeans and my red SCAD sweatshirt out of the closet, rather than my usual frilly layers. That could wait for another day. If Lily showed up, I’d probably be outside all day, so I needed to plan for warmth rather than style.
Tut lost interest in my zooming around the room like a crazy woman, and began his morning ablutions. I ignored him, concentrating on dressing instead. Thick socks and my trademark boots finished my attire. I glanced at the clock and couldn’t help a smirk. Less than ten minutes. Not bad.
Luckily, I always kept a backpack loaded with art equipment, so at least that was one thing that I didn’t have to spend time doing. Slinging it over my shoulder, I turned toward the bed where my cat was washing behind his ears. “Bye, Tut. Be good!” He paused a moment when I flung him a kiss, then went on with his bath like I wasn’t there. I guess he was mad at me. I hadn’t paid enough attention to him this morning, but there wasn’t time now. I’d make it up to him later. I’d give him a slice of cheese, his favorite thing.
I clattered downstairs, almost knocking Minnie down when I burst through the kitchen doorway.
“Well, well, well…look who decided to put in an appearance this morning. Wait. Is it still morning?” She exaggeratedly pushed up her sleeve so she could peer at her watch.
I groaned. “Oh, give me a break, will you? I didn’t shut my eyes until almost three this morning and it caused me to oversleep. Can you help me? I’ve got an appointment and I’m going to be late.”
“Sure, honey. What you want me to do?”
“Can you get me a couple of your home-made granola bars?” I asked as I wrenched the refrigera
tor open and grabbed a bottle of water and two apples. Unzipping one of the outer pockets of the backpack, I shoved my items in, holding it open for her to do the same, then I gave her a smile and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Minnie.”
She cocked her eyebrow. “Where you rushing off to in such an all-fire hurry?”
I shook my head, grabbing my jacket as I headed for the door. “No time. I’ll have to tell you later. Wish me luck.”
“Luck!” I heard her shout just before the door banged shut.
As I barreled down the front stairs, I tried to push her worried expression out of my mind.
****
By the time I reached Chippewa Square—our appointed meeting place—I was regretting my clothing choice in spite of the nippy temperature outside. The sweatshirt was definitely living up to its name. For all the good it was doing me right now, I could’ve skipped my shower this morning. If that wasn’t bad enough, I’d worked myself into a frenzy over this appointment: worried that Lily wouldn’t show, and in an oxymoronic way, worried that she would.
My heart sank when I entered the square and swept my eyes from corner to corner. No flash of pink and green. You couldn’t hide a hat like that. Wait! It was this square, wasn’t it? Not Ellis? Or Wright? No, I distinctly remember her saying Chippewa. She just wasn’t here. The disappointment made me feel like I was wearing my heart on the bottom of my boots and walking over broken glass. What now?
I felt a tiny surge of hope when I caught sight of Raymond sitting on the same bench he’d sat yesterday. Maybe he could help me. She might’ve left a message with him.
I opened my mouth to greet him, but paused. Something was different. He had none of his rose-making supplies spread out on the bench. Instead he sat hunched over a spiral-bound notebook, clutching a pen and writing as if his life depended on it. What in the world was he writing? Could he be an author in disguise? Maybe he was in the process of penning the next New York Times best seller.
At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, that he was writing in some foreign language, that that’s why I couldn’t read it. I wish that were the case, but it wasn’t.
Scribbles! Nothing but scribbles. Both pages were filled with line after line of squiggly curlicues!
My jaw dropped. I watched in a sort of horror as he flipped the page and started on the next sheet. I’d be willing to bet all the previous pages were filled with more of the same.
He was completely oblivious to me—to anyone—although I was the only one who stopped and stared. It hurt my feelings a little. Why? Well, he’d been so connected, so aware of everything when he’d fashioned my rose yesterday, so unlike this. It felt like a betrayal of some sort. Crazy, I know, but that’s how it felt.
I turned away, dejected, eyes on the sidewalk, just ahead of my toes.
Before I could take a step, a pair of very worn, cracked-leather work boots came into view and my wilted spirit felt instantly revived. My eyes snapped up to meet Lily’s shrewd gray ones. Relief. Happiness. A smile spread across my face, and a sudden sting of tears that had me blinking rapidly.
Wow! Over-react much? Was it the lack of sleep? Maybe. I become a tall two-year old when I don’t get enough rest, but this seemed a little over-the-top. Yes, I’d found the perfect model for my project, but this wasn’t my usual shy, stand-offish behavior. It made me nervous. I cleared my throat before attempting to speak. “G-good morning, Lily. I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.”
“The grass isn’t greener on the other side. It’s greener where you water it.”
Another one of her quotes. I nodded and grinned. “Well, in that case, I’m glad you decided to water this grass.”
****
We sat side-by-side on another of the square’s benches munching the apples I’d brought. I could see Raymond from where we were. He was still hunched over his notebook, scribbling away. I lifted my chin in his direction. “Why does he do that?”
“Why does who do what?” her answer sounded juicy, spoken around a bite of apple.
“Raymond. Filling that notebook with scribbles. People are going to think he’s crazy.”
She swallowed before answering. “They already do, and it’s not scribbles.”
“Ha! What do you mean, it’s not scribbles? I saw it! It’s page after page of squiggles and curlicues!”
At her somber gaze, my smile grew uncertain. “They are scribbles, Lily.” But my statement sounded hesitant, almost questioning…like I was doubting myself.
“In order to be irreplaceable, one must always be different.”
“Well, yeah. That’s different, all right. Wouldn’t be my adjective of choice, but if that’s what you want to go with, be my guest. But I…uh…I have to ask. When you say they’re not scribbles, are you saying that they’re words? That you can actually read whatever it is that he’s writing?”
She didn’t answer, but started her bobble-head routine that sent the little bells to jingling. She took another big bite of her apple, her cheek bulging with it as she chewed. She looked like a chipmunk.
“Okay, then, what does it say?”
“You won’t believe,” she finally muttered.
“Try me.”
Her eyes flitted back across the square to Raymond. “He writes down what the ghosts tell him.”
My heart did a flip-flop in my chest. “What the ghosts—” I broke off and pressed my lips together, trying to get a grip. My mouth went dry. After last night, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear this, but I had to ask. “How do you know?”
Her eyes met mine again. “Because they talk to me too.”
“They talk to—” I shook my head. I didn’t want to believe it. The whole thing was getting too weird. “Uh, I think we need to change the subject, talk about something a little less crazy.”
Lily cocked her head and smiled like she was privy to a secret I didn’t know about. “If it’s important to you, you’ll find a way. If not, you’ll find an excuse.”
I jumped to my feet. “Okay. Let’s go find a way.”
****
Lily’s capacity for trivia rivaled her list of memorized quotes.
“Did you know that pearls melt in vinegar?
“Nope.”
“Did you know that a snail can sleep for three years?”
I shook my head.
“How about that a tiger’s skin is what’s striped, not just his fur?”
Where did she get this stuff? “Nope. Didn’t know that either.” I’d stopped and was leaning against an iron railing in order to make a quick sketch of her while she sprinkled glitter beside a parking meter. My goal was to capture the movement more than the actual details. I wanted to compile as many “fluid” drawings as possible before starting on the actual assignment. It was something I always did before beginning a painting. It was my own technique, allowing me to get to know my subject better: their movement…their essence, if you will. It helped me make them come alive on the canvas.
“You mind if I ask you something, Lily?” I purposefully kept my eyes on the bold, sweeping strokes my pencil was making on my drawing pad, keeping my voice light and airy. Maybe if she didn’t thing I was intensely curious about it, I’d have a better chance of getting a real answer instead of one of her quotes.
I took her silence as an invitation to continue. “Why do you sprinkle glitter like that?” I held my breath, waiting for her answer.
“Rose told me ghosts like the way it sparkles. They really like anything sparkly—diamonds, gemstones, gold and silver in the sunshine—but glitter is easiest to find.”
Ghosts again! But at least she gave a real answer. I kept my face composed with an effort, concentrating on my sketch. “Who’s Rose?” my voice shook a little.
“My sister.”
I looked up, startled. “Sister? Does she live here too?”
“Guess you could say that, although “live” isn’t the right word. She’s been dead for forty-eight years. She’s here, though.
Well, not here right now. Here in Savannah.”
“Dead?” I swallowed noisily and dropped my gaze back to my drawing. I hoped I looked like I was absorbed in my work. In reality, it could have been a blank sheet of paper. I gave up that façade pretty quickly. I knew I wasn’t a great actress. I tend to wear my emotions on my face for all to see. That being the case, I knew that Lily could see that I was totally freaked out, so why bother acting? I finally whispered, “You say she’s not here now. Um, if she ever shows up when we’re together, will you tell me? In case I can’t see her myself, that is.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yeah…I think.”
A tiny smile curved one side of her mouth. It gave me a shot of courage that I needed for my next question. “Okay. I’ve got to ask this, especially after last night. Are…”
My voice cracked and the word came out high-pitched, like an adolescent boy whose voice is changing. I stopped, cleared my throat, and tried again. “Are you a ghost?”
The other side of her mouth tipped up. “No, child.”
The breath that I’d been unconsciously holding whooshed out. “What a relief! I cannot tell you how much of a relief it is. You have no idea how spooked I was last night when you took off on me like you did. I tried to catch up with you and when I looked down the street, you were gone! Poof! Without a trace. You just disappeared. And you know, people, especially older people—not saying that you’re old or anything—but people your age can’t generally move that quickly. It was so fast. You turned out of the square and you were gone. It was almost supernatural…something a ghost would be able to do. That’s why I asked. I’m not trying to pry or anything. I was just curious as to how you did it. Disappear, I mean. Where’d you go?” I was blathering and I knew it, but couldn’t seem to stop myself. A bad case of nerves can do that. It’s as if my brain short-circuits and my mouth goes out of control. Somebody stop me, please!
She took my arm and pulled me over to a sunny spot on the stairs, sitting me down. “Tell me about your home,” she changed the subject as she settled down beside me.