Mulberry Moon

by Catherine Anderson

  “You guys are the best,” Sissy told them.

  “Aside from the fact that some people are allergic to dogs,” Tim observed, “I think it’s a stupid law, anyway.”

  “Me, too,” Lynda agreed. “So many service dogs are allowed. What do they do, spray them with something to make them hypoallergenic? It’s ridiculous.”

  Sissy wanted to hug them both. “Well, dogs do shed. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for people to prefer food without dog hair in it.”

  She took Finnegan out back for a short outing, during which he baptized every post of her chicken pen and ran next door to pee on Marilyn’s shed. After relieving himself, the pup returned to Sissy and looked up at her with a bewildered expression.

  “I know. You’re wondering where your dad is. Something happened. He realizes by now that he forgot you, and he’ll come for you as quickly as he can. He loves you to pieces.” Sissy wished that she’d had a father half as wonderful as Ben. Maybe then she would have matured into a different woman. “But until he gets here, you have to go back upstairs until the VeArds leave. You’ll be okay. Right?”

  Sissy’s concern for the dog ended the moment she led him back inside the café. Tim yelled, “I turned the sign to read CLOSED and locked the front door. Before doing that, I stepped outside and looked both ways to make sure no gestapo were on the sidewalks. We’ve decided that we each want a hamburger patty for dessert, and we’re going to need Finn’s help to eat them.”

  Sissy’s chest went tight. For the first time in her life, she had friends. She grinned and said, “Two hamburger patties coming right up.”

  * * *

  Ben reached Sissy’s place so late that he feared she might already be in bed, but he could see lights still on in her apartment. He was pleased to find that she’d left the back door unlocked for him and a light on in the storage room.

  “Finn?” he called softly, thinking she might have left the dog closed up downstairs so it would be easier for Ben to collect him. “Finn?”

  He heard no sound to suggest the pup had heard him. He strode up the hall and swung right to ascend the stairs. Once on the landing, he tapped on the door.

  Sissy answered the summons almost instantly. “I was starting to think you’d been in a wreck.”

  She stepped back to allow Ben entry. He removed his hat as he stepped inside. “I’m really sorry about this.” He gave her a brief account of what had happened. “I almost texted you, but it was smack-dab in the middle of dinner hour. So I thought I’d wait, and then things got so crazy, I couldn’t text.”

  Finn, snuggled down on a folded blanket, leaped to his feet and ran to Ben, whining a joyous greeting. Ben bent to ruffle the dog’s fur. “Did you think I’d forgotten you?”

  Sissy gestured toward the table where a bottle of wine and one half-filled goblet sat. “Grab a chair. If you’re as tired as I am, a glass of wine may hit the spot.”

  After tossing his truck keys on her end table, Ben accepted the invitation and took a seat across from the half-filled goblet. He put his hat on a chair next to him. “I’d love a glass of wine.”

  He turned the bottle to see the label. “Uh-oh, a lady who likes to live dangerously. This is mulberry.”

  “After you told me about it, I wanted to try some, and Flagg’s Market cooperated by having it on sale. I refuse to pay more than ten dollars a bottle.” She smiled as she retraced her steps to the table and handed him a glass.

  As she resumed her seat and took a sip of the wine, Ben wondered why she didn’t see how perfect they were for each other. “Maybe some of the September magic rubbed off on us.”

  Her blue eyes grew shadowed. “And you are reminding me why I vowed never to serve you any wine.”

  Ben laughed and poured himself about four ounces. “No worries. I could guzzle the whole bottle and not get so snockered that just anyone would look good to me.” He didn’t add that he needed no help to find Sissy attractive.

  “It’s delicious,” she observed. “I may have to raise my buying bar to fifteen. It normally costs that much.”

  Ben nodded in appreciation as he rolled the purple vintage over his tongue. “Worth every penny.” Studying her, he decided she looked as exhausted as he felt.

  “I bought two bottles. Maybe I’ll go wild tonight and have three glasses. I’ll never make it through tomorrow if I don’t get some sleep. Last night I barely got a wink.”

  “What kept you awake?” he asked.

  Just then, Finn, who’d settled near Ben’s chair, lifted his head and snarled. The dog’s gaze was fixed on the sofa. Bewildered, Ben walked into the seating area. “He’s such an easygoing dog. Now this again? He sees or senses something. His hackles are up.”

  “Just sit back down and drink your wine. Whatever it is that Finn senses, the human eye can’t detect it.”

  He joined her at the table again and gave her an inquisitive look.

  “After last night, I no longer care if I sound crazy. This building is haunted.”

  “What happened last night?” he asked.

  “After I went to bed, a canned good toppled out of a closed cupboard. My small nonstick skillet, which I’d left in the dish drainer, went airborne and clattered onto the floor. While I was unwrapping a new roll of bathroom tissue, the chrome rod vanished. I set it on the edge of the vanity, and in a blink, it was gone.”

  Ben didn’t discount the possibility of ghosts, but he couldn’t help but think that there had to be another explanation. “Do you mind if I go look for it?”

  She lifted her glass to him. “Not at all, and good luck. You’re not going to find it.”

  Ben went to search Sissy’s bathroom. He even checked inside the waste receptacle and vanity cupboard. He found no chrome rod.

  Once back in Sissy’s kitchen, he eyeballed her counters and cupboard shelves to make sure they were level. He could offer her no rational explanation for the flying skillet and canned goods.

  “So you believe me?” Her voice quavered as she asked the question.

  “Well, of course I believe you. Why would you make it up?”

  She sighed. “Well, I’m glad you’re taking my word for it. I was afraid I might have to show you the dent on my stove to convince you that it all happened.”

  Ben stepped over to the range and studied the gouge in the white enamel, musing aloud, “For a can of food to inflict this much damage, it must have fallen from the cupboard and landed on its edge.”

  Sissy shrugged. “All I know is that the can ended up on the floor. I was in bed when it happened, and the noise in here scared me out of ten year’s growth.”

  Ben sighed. “Something must have pushed the can from the cupboard. If a ghost picked it up and tossed it, the can would have bypassed the stove and hit the floor.”

  Just then the keyboard in Sissy’s living room pinged. Finn sprang up, raced to the living room, and leaped at the window curtains. The next instant, the dog jumped on the sofa and began digging feverishly at the cushions until Ben, fearing damage to the upholstery, called him off.

  “That settles it. He’s after something real.” Ben pulled off all the couch cushions and found nothing. Still convinced Finn had seen something, he even went so far as to move the piece of furniture to make sure nothing had hidden under it.

  A ghost? Ben wanted to discard the notion, but he’d heard that keyboard play. Something had struck the keys—something he hadn’t seen and couldn’t find. Without permission, he walked through the apartment, convinced that the culprit had to be a small creature. He looked under the bed. He moved the nightstands and dresser.

  “Have you noticed any rodent droppings?” he asked.

  “No. With this being a food service facility, I have pest control come on a quarterly basis, and after you suggested my pianist might be a mouse, I called the company and asked for an extra visit. The guy said he
found no evidence of mice anywhere.”

  Ben finally gave up on finding anything and resumed his seat at the table. “Why didn’t you tell me weird shit is still happening?”

  She pushed at her dark hair. “Because it makes me sound loony.”

  “Well, I’m about to sound even loonier. I don’t want you staying here alone at night.”

  Sissy laughed. “Ben, whatever it is, it means me no harm. My only issue is that all the noise disturbs my sleep.”

  When she rubbed her arms and shivered, Ben knew the unexplained incidents were also giving her the willies. And he couldn’t fault her for that. Hearing that keyboard chime had made his skin prickle, too.

  “You could stay at my place. I’ve got four extra bedrooms, and I guarantee you’ll sleep like a baby.”

  She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but a simpler solution is to get earplugs. I’m not in any danger.” She tipped her head and arched her brows. “Moving on to another topic, did you get the berserk horse settled down?”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Actually, something didn’t feel right when I rode her.” He took a sip of wine. “She didn’t act up with me, but as I picked up speed as I rode her around the arena, I really felt it. A tension in her. Something wrong with her gait. So I called Jack Palmer and asked him to come out.”

  “Ouch. That must have cost a pretty penny, especially after hours.”

  “The owners authorized the call, and they’ll pick up the tab. And, man, I’m so glad I did. Jack palpated her, and he detected some tenderness. He believes she has a uterine or ovarian cyst. He took her to his clinic. I have faith in Jack. He’ll figure it out, and we’ll soon have a horse that’s fine again.”

  They chatted while Ben finished his wine. Then he glanced at his watch, realized it was past bedtime for both of them, and went to retrieve his keys from the end table.

  “Um—” He looked at Sissy. “I did put my keys there. Right?”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “Were they shiny?”

  “My remote fob isn’t, but the key sticking out the end is. I didn’t retract it, and yes, my key chain is shiny. I have a special one, a miniature Western belt buckle.”

  Sissy shook her head. “Good luck finding them, then. Shiny things vanish around here.”

  Ben couldn’t accept that as an answer. He had an extra set of keys in a magnetic case attached to his truck, but the missing fob would cost him over a hundred dollars. He searched between the sofa cushions. He moved the couch and the end tables. He was about to give up when he heard a horn blaring outside, that honk-stop kind of blare a vehicle emits when the alert button on a key fob has been pressed.

  He hurried over to Sissy’s living room window. Sure enough, there sat his truck near the coop, the lights blinking on and off, and the horn blaring.

  “Damn! How in hell am I going to turn that off without the fob? My extra one is at home. All I have is a spare key in a magnetic case under the fender.”

  Sissy started to laugh and then clamped a hand over her mouth. Through spread fingers, she said, “I’m sorry. It isn’t funny. It’s just such a relief to have this happen to someone besides me!”

  Minutes later, after getting inside his vehicle, Ben managed to get the horn to stop blaring. He saw that Marilyn’s upstairs lights had come on. Then she leaned out what he guessed was her bedroom window.

  He lowered the glass on the driver’s side of his truck. “I’m sorry if that woke you.”

  “I was just worried that someone had broken into your truck!”

  Ben noted her mussed hair and the furry robe she wore. He’d woken her from a sound sleep. “False alarm. I had trouble making the horn shut up, though.”

  She laughed, waved farewell, and closed her window. Ben noticed Sissy standing on her back porch as he drove away. He gave the horn a final toot to tell her good night.

  “Ghosts do not steal car keys,” he muttered to himself. “There has to be a rational explanation for all this.”

  * * *

  Whenever Ben felt troubled, he always sought out his father for advice, so he wasn’t really surprised when he found himself driving toward his childhood home on East Sugar Pine. He bypassed Barney’s farm and noted that the lights were still on. Ben could only hope that his parents were awake. Sometimes they watched television later at night, and his mom loved to do crafts. Jeremiah was semiretired now and no longer got up earlier than the chickens. He had a farmhand to do the morning chores.

  Ben was pleased when he saw light coming through the windows of his parents’ ranch-style home. The place looked small in the darkness, but somehow his folks had managed to raise six kids there, and Ben couldn’t recall ever feeling cramped.

  He left Finnegan asleep on the passenger seat. The pup had worn himself out, probably pacing in Sissy’s apartment. When he tapped on his parents’ front door, he heard the patter of quick footsteps and knew his mother was answering the summons. Kate was a small, energetic woman who still looked and acted a decade younger than she was. When the portal swung inward, Ben took a moment to study the surprised expression that passed over her delicate features. Then sheer delight brightened her coffee brown eyes.

  “Ben!” she cried. “It’s so good to see you.”

  He tried to remember how long it had been since he’d darkened his parents’ doorstep. After hugging his mom, he followed her from the entryway into the spacious family room that opened onto a formal dining area and then a country kitchen, large enough to accommodate a second table for casual meals. In the overhead light, Jeremiah’s tawny hair, the same color as Ben’s, glistened with more silver than Ben remembered. It saddened him to realize that his parents were getting older.

  “Hey, Ben,” Jeremiah called from the table. “I didn’t think you stayed up this late unless you were skirt chasing in Crystal Falls.”

  Ben winced. His dad enjoyed taking jabs at his sons for choices they made that he deemed to be mistakes. “Not funny, Dad.”

  Kate swept into the kitchen, flapping a hand at her husband. “If he’s skirt chasing, I don’t want to hear about it.” With a smile at Ben, she said, “Your father is having decaf. I’m having hot cocoa. Name your poison.”

  “Cocoa,” Ben replied. Then he quickly added, “Please.” His mom was a stickler on manners. “Can I have mine with marshmallows?”

  “May I,” Kate corrected. “And, yes, Ben, you may.”

  Ben had removed his hat when he stepped onto the porch. He set it on the kitchen bar and sat next to his dad, remembering all the noisy breakfasts he’d eaten at this table over the years. Kids slurping. He and his brothers kicking or pinching one another when a parent wasn’t watching. His sisters always tattling on them.

  “So, what’s up?” Jeremiah asked. “You rarely show up here unless you’ve got a problem.”

  Ben winced again. “I’ve been busy liquidating my business. I recently got home from Montana, where I dropped off the last of my livestock.”

  Kate, heating something in the microwave, glanced over her slender shoulder. She wore faded jeans, riding boots, and a pretty plaid Western shirt that sported turquoise and pink with sparkly stuff in the pattern. “Barney mentioned you were out of town. I hope you found good homes for the animals.”

  Ben nodded. “I made sure of that, Mom.”

  Jeremiah inserted, “I know you’ve been busy. But rumor has it that you’ve been especially busy helping out the young lady who owns the Cauldron.”

  Ben knew whenever his father said “Rumor has it” that one of his brothers had blabbed. “True.”

  “Is it serious?” Jeremiah asked.

  “On my part, yes. If I could convince her to let it be serious, I would. But she’s taking her time warming up to me.”

  Kate set a cup of cocoa, laden with melting marshmallows, in front of Ben, and then resumed her seat where her own servi
ng was cooling. “There’s nothing wrong with a woman taking some time. Smart, if you ask me.”

  Before his mother could get off on a tangent about all the divorces taking place among the younger set, Ben said, “And you’re right, Dad. I do have a problem. Well, not really a problem. It’s more a mystery, and I need a sounding board.”

  “Shoot,” Jeremiah said.

  Ben told his parents about the strange things happening in Sissy’s building, ending with the disappearance of his remote fob and key chain.

  Jeremiah frowned. “You’ve witnessed Finnegan snarling and barking at something you can’t see?”

  Ben explained how he’d searched for something real each time and found nothing.

  “That is strange,” Jeremiah observed. “I believe in the existence of spirits, but I don’t think they steal things. A dog might sense the presence of one and raise a fuss, I suppose. They can sense things we can’t. But the missing objects—apparently a lot of them—sound crazy to me. Ghosts have no bodies. They can’t pick things up, and they certainly can’t throw canned goods from cupboards.”

  “Um,” Kate inserted, “a poltergeist could—if poltergeists actually exist.”

  Jeremiah studied his wife. “What is a poltergeist?”

  “A mischievous and sometimes dangerous ghost,” Kate replied. She fell quiet for a moment. “Do you know what these stories remind me of? One time, this happened to my grandmother.”

  “It did?” Ben stared at Kate. “My great-grandmother had a ghost?”

  Kate laughed. “Well, for a while she thought she did. She’d set aside her crocheting, and her hook would vanish. Jewelry, wrapped candies, or change she left in a dish.” A distant look entered Kate’s eyes. “Then there came a rainstorm, and the roof sprang a leak in her bedroom closet. Daddy went right over to fix it. While working inside her closet, he found a hole in the wall at a back corner. He shone his light inside and saw dozens of items. Earrings, bracelets, crochet hooks, candy bars, the wristwatch Grandma had lost, and even an heirloom necklace that she believed she’d misplaced.”