Driven (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 1)

by Becky Durfee

  “So what you should do is give yourself time to relax,” Susan concluded as she stood up. “Quiet your mind. Expect some sort of contact, and stay relaxed when you hear it. Allow the spirit to say more than just a few words, and hopefully you’ll get some answers.”

  “Thank you,” Jenny replied, also standing. “I’ll definitely try that.”

  The women walked to the front door and exchanged phone numbers. Jenny thanked Susan for all of her help and waited on the front step until Susan drove away. Awestruck, Jenny resumed her place back at the kitchen table, sipped some more tea, and tried to contemplate everything she had just learned. She was psychic. She had always regarded herself as ordinary in every sense of the word, but now she was aware of this rare and valuable gift that would allow her to help people in unimaginable ways. She knew she would eventually be proud of this development, but for now she was just shocked.

  Greg came home from his errands to find Jenny sitting somewhat statuesque at the table, clearly unnerved. “Is something wrong?” he immediately asked.

  Jenny was reluctant to tell this news to the man who had been only minimally supportive. She braced herself for ridicule and proceeded. “I do believe the psychic I met with today was real.”

  “Oh yeah?” Greg asked. “How can you tell?”

  “That’s the thing…I just kind of knew.” She looked up at Greg to gauge his reaction. “It appears psychics can recognize other psychics.”

  After a moment of consideration, he replied, “So you’re saying you’re psychic? Is that what this woman told you?” Based on Greg’s neutral tone, Jenny was unable to assess what he was thinking.

  “Yes, and it does make sense, if you think about it. I have been hearing voices…voices that, apparently, no one else can hear. And I didn’t tell you before, because I was afraid you would think I was completely crazy, but the voice told me the phrase good day ma’am. That was Elanor and Steve’s code for I love you. When I visited with Elanor, she told me that nobody could have possibly known that.” Jenny swallowed hard, hoping Greg would believe her. “Susan—the psychic—seems to believe Steve is contacting me, trying to deliver a message to Elanor before she dies.”

  Greg remained expressionless. “Well, what do you know?”

  Jenny waited for elaboration that didn’t come. Was that it? Was that all the reaction she was going to get from Greg? After a bombshell like the one she just dropped, she expected some kind of response. After several moments of awkward silence, Jenny said, “Well, I think I’m going to go upstairs and take a bath.”

  “Take a bath?” Greg asked, looking at the clock. “It’s kind of a weird time for a bath, isn’t it? The middle of the afternoon? I was actually hoping we could get a little more work done around here. It doesn’t seem like you accomplished much while I was gone.”

  And there it was, Jenny thought. She discovered she had a life-altering gift, yet because she hadn’t pried up any floorboards while he was out, she hadn’t accomplished much. Anger once again began to simmer within her, but she made the concerted effort to dismiss it, knowing the impact it would have on her ability to fully relax.

  “I know it’s weird, but I’m a little spooked by what Susan had to say. I just need a little time to regroup, and then I’ll be able to help out with the house.”

  “Well, I’ll be down here working,” Greg commented. “Come join me when you’re done.”

  Aware of the dig that had just been made but choosing to ignore it, Jenny headed eagerly up to the bathroom. She had bigger things to worry about than whether or not Greg approved of her afternoon bath. She needed to quiet her mind, so she tried to think of all of the things that would facilitate relaxation. She put some soft music on the radio, turned off the lights, lit some scented candles, and added bubbles to her bath. She undressed and climbed into the tub, feeling the warmth envelop her. She laid her head back against the tub, breathing deeply, clearing the thoughts from her head. She closed her eyes, trying to live entirely in the moment. The sounds of the bubbles popping around her and her rhythmic breath were nearly hypnotic; however, despite her best efforts, she failed to hear any voices. Eventually the water around her became cold, and she decided it was time to get out of the tub.

  A little disappointed but undeterred, she hoped the evening would bring about a different story. In the meantime she dressed and threw herself mercilessly into the renovation project. Her goal was to make herself good and tired, figuring this would enable her to fully relax at bed time. Her plan worked; by nightfall, she was completely exhausted and looking quite forward to climbing into bed.

  Her muscles ached as she slid between the sheets. She thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of resting her head on the pillow. As waves of relaxation came over her, she once again heard the voice.

  “Lake Wimsat.”

  Her eyes popped open. “Dammit!” she whispered out loud. She had woken up too soon, but she was excited to hear a different message. She decided at that moment that she would pay a visit to Elanor in the morning to see the significance of Lake Wimsat. She knew a phone call would have sufficed, but she wanted to get out of the house. She also knew that Greg may not have been too excited about her plan, but she didn’t care.

  Perhaps she was going to reach the mindset of a forty year old a little ahead of schedule.

  Chapter 8

  Jenny knocked quietly on Elanor’s door. Once again, Elanor looked delighted to see her. “Oh, hello, dear! Please, come in! Do you have any exciting news to tell me?” She looked like a kid at Christmas.

  Jenny walked over to Elanor’s bed proudly. “Yes, in fact, this time I do.”

  “Well let’s hear it!” Elanor said.

  Jenny laughed. “Okay, here goes. I met with a few psychics, but they were frauds.”

  “Bastards.”

  “But then I met with Susan Leichart, and she was real.” Jenny recounted the conversation between her and Susan, with Elanor hanging on every word. “Susan seems to think the person communicating with me is Steve, and he wants to get a message to you.” Jenny left off the part about having limited time to do so.

  “I wonder what that message is!” Elanor declared enthusiastically; this was clearly the first exciting thing to happen to her in a long time.

  “Well,” Jenny began, “I heard another message last night, but unfortunately I wasn’t able to stay relaxed enough to hear very much. All I heard was Lake Wimsat.”

  Elanor clapped her hands together. “Oh, Lake Wimsat. Steve and I spent so much time there.” Her face looked elated. “It was a safe place for us to go. We had found this little out-of-the-way spot where no one ever went.” She laughed. “We had to climb through some pretty thick brush to get there, but it was worth it. There was a big, flat rock that looked out over the lake, and because it was so far off the beaten path nobody ever bothered us. We had no chance of being caught when we were there, so we were able to act like a couple.” Elanor gave Jenny an exaggerated wink. “But it wasn’t all about sex. We spent a lot of time there just cuddling. In fact, that rock is where we came up with our plans to change the world.” Elanor looked distant again. “Oh, yes…Lake Wimsat.”

  “Can you think of any reason why I would hear that?”

  Elanor made an intent face as she thought about it. “No, not anything in particular. Not off the top of my head, anyway. But Lake Wimsat played a bigger role in my life than just that. Once I made enough money from the magazine, I had a house built on the lake. It wasn’t near where Steve and I used to hang out, but on the other side. They weren’t developing on that side of the lake with it being part of a state park and all.” Realizing she was beginning a tangent, she switched gears and said, “I spent almost forty years in that house. Who’s to say what event we’re supposed to be focusing on? ”

  Jenny was upset with herself for waking too soon. Perhaps if she could have stayed relaxed, the message would have been much clearer. “Well, I’ll try to see if I can come up with anything more specific. Unfor
tunately I don’t have much control over when I receive messages.”

  “That’s okay, dear. I don’t expect you to have all the answers. I’ll try to think if anything remarkable happened at the lake. It’ll give me something to do until you come back.”

  “Well, hopefully I’ll be back soon.” Jenny put her purse strap over her shoulder.

  With a heartbreaking look of disappointment, Elanor said, “You know, you don’t have to leave right away.”

  Jenny thought about Greg working on the house by himself. With the forty minute drive to Lumberton, she had already been gone over an hour. It would be close to two hours by the time she got back if she left right away. However, she didn’t feel the need to go rushing home. Every part of her wanted to stay and talk to Elanor, so Jenny set her purse down on the floor and said, “What would you like to chat about?”

  A contented smile splayed across Elanor’s face. “I want to talk about you a little bit. I feel like you know a lot more about me than I do about you.”

  “Okay,” Jenny said with an apprehensive smile.

  “So, for starters…how long have you lived in that house?”

  “Not long. Only a couple of weeks.”

  “Where did you move from?”

  “Kentucky.”

  “Wow. That’s quite a long move.” Elanor made a face. “I’m sure there were a few houses in Kentucky that needed some repair. What made you choose that house?”

  “Well,” Jenny began, “My husband Greg has always had this dream of fixing up a luxury home. His father used to do that when Greg was a teenager, and he always helped his father out. He learned a lot about fixing up houses that way, so even though he’s a teacher by trade, he still knows a thing or two about renovation.

  “We looked for some nice houses to fix up in Kentucky, but there were no houses with as much potential as your old house. Not within our price range, anyway. Your house was by far the most house we could get for our money, probably because it’s not in an affluent neighborhood. Most luxury homes, no matter how run-down, were out of our price range simply because of the neighborhood they were in.”

  “Did you have dreams of fixing up a house?”

  “Honestly?” Jenny replied. “Not really. That was always my husband’s dream; I just wanted to see it come true for him.”

  “So you moved all the way from Kentucky to fulfill your husband’s dream? That’s pretty big of you.”

  Jenny smiled, glad somebody recognized that.

  “So what’s your dream, dear?” Elanor asked.

  “My dream?” Jenny sat back in her chair. “My dream…” She racked her brain, but she really couldn’t come up with anything. “I guess I don’t have one.”

  “Everybody has a dream,” Elanor said sweetly. “You just haven’t thought about it enough yet. Perhaps you haven’t given yourself permission to. I think a person’s dreams say a lot about them. When I meet someone new I often like to ask them this question, simply because I think the answer is very telling. You ready?”

  “Shoot.”

  “If money was no object, and people couldn’t tell you no, what would you be doing with your life?”

  A thought which was too embarrassing to reveal popped into Jenny’s head immediately. Elanor, able to read Jenny’s face, continued. “Come on, say it. Don’t be shy. What, do you think I’m going to laugh at you or something? If that’s the case, then I know for sure you’ve never read my magazine.”

  Jenny felt her face flush; she had indeed never read an issue of Choices, and she was horribly ashamed to admit it.

  “I’ll forgive you for not reading my magazine if you tell me what your dream is.”

  Jenny giggled and sighed with defeat. “Well, this past week my dream has been to pursue this voice I’ve been hearing.” She looked at her lap. “Now that I know I have some kind of psychic ability, I’d love to delve into that.”

  “Well that seems simple enough.”

  “Not really,” Jenny admitted. “My husband hasn’t exactly been as supportive as I’d like.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “Well, he kind of gives me a hard time about it. He thinks I should be focusing on the renovation, and whenever I take a break from that to investigate the voice, he feels like I’m not meeting my responsibilities.”

  Elanor lowered her eyebrows. “Well, that’s a little bit shitty, don’t you think?”

  Jenny didn’t react outwardly, but inside her spirit soared. “What do you mean?” she asked, desperate to hear someone else say what she was ashamed to be feeling.

  “You moved all the way to Kentucky to pursue his dream, and then he’s giving you a hard time about pursuing yours? That doesn’t seem right. Besides, his dream is just to make a house look pretty. Anybody can do that. I don’t know anyone who can do what you do.”

  Jenny nodded slightly, feeling both validated and ashamed at the same time. Her dream was just as important as Greg’s…if not more so…but she was quite sure that equality would never be recognized. In her marriage Greg clearly called the shots, a notion which was suddenly disgraceful in Jenny’s mind.

  “Pick up an issue of Choices,” Elanor continued. “You’ll change your tune. It’ll give you the kick in the pants you need to stand up for yourself.” Elanor patted Jenny’s hand.

  Eager to change the subject, Jenny asked, “Miss Elanor, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Of course not. Fire away.”

  “How did the house come to be in such a state of disrepair?”

  Elanor chuckled guiltily. “Well, my parents lived there their whole lives. My father passed away first, and then my mother a few years later. When my mother died, she left everything to me, but by that time I’d made a bunch of money for myself, and I was already living on Lake Wimsat. I didn’t need that house. I didn’t want that house. I didn’t want any of my father’s money, even though I got it all.” She got a diabolical grin on her face. “Do you know what I did with the house and all that money?”

  Jenny just knew this was going to be good. “What did you do?”

  “The first thing I did was give the house away. I just signed it over, furniture and all, to a low income family. I wanted to give a family an opportunity at privilege that they would never have had otherwise. I didn’t take into account that a low income family wouldn’t have the means to maintain such an expensive home. I guess it didn’t really turn out to be much of a gift.” Elanor laughed. “Here, low income family, here’s a house with inordinately high heating and cooling bills and super-expensive custom everything that will cost a fortune to replace. Enjoy.”

  “It was a nice idea.”

  “Hey, I tried. What can I say?” Elanor continued. “Now as far as all that money goes, I got to thinking about a stupid monologue my father threw at me every chance he got. I swear I heard it at least once a week.” Elanor tucked her chin into her chest, lowered her eyebrows, and deepened her voice. “Whitby money has been in our family for generations. Samuel Whitby was the first Whitby on American soil, and he made a fortune in tobacco, blah blah blah.” Elanor resumed her natural voice. “Well, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that somebody who made a fortune growing tobacco in the south in the 1700s did so through the use of slaves. He got rich on hard work, alright, but not his own. The way I saw it, the descendants of his slaves deserved the money, not me. I tried to track down who his slaves had been so I could follow their lineage, but I had no luck. So instead I took that money—every damn bit of it--and donated it to the United Negro College Fund. I figured it was a good-enough second-best.” Elanor began to giggle. “Can you imagine what my father’s reaction would have been to know that all that Whitby money was given away…as a handout…to black people? He’d have shit his pants if he knew. In fact, I bet he’s rolling over in his grave right now just because I’m talking about it.

  “Oh, look at me, talking about myself again. I want to learn a little something about you.”

  “I’m no
t as interesting as you are,” Jenny admitted.

  “Are you kidding? You’re a psychic. I just wrote shit in a magazine.”

  “I’ve only been a psychic for, like, four days.”

  “But you were interesting before that. Everybody’s interesting if you ask them the right questions.” Elanor eyed Jenny up and down. “Let me see…are you a traveler? Been anywhere exciting?”

  Jenny giggled. “Does Detroit count?”

  “No. Detroit most definitely does not count. Not unless you were a pole dancer or a CIA agent while you were there.”

  “I was visiting my grandmother.”

  “Was your grandmother a CIA agent?”

  “No. But she did like to make quilts.”

  “Okay, we’re not getting anywhere with this.” Elanor managed to keep her tone serious, but Jenny couldn’t keep the laughter in. “Talent,” Elanor continued. “Do you have some kind of hidden talent?”

  Jenny felt her face redden as she lowered her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Aha!” Elanor proclaimed victoriously. “I got it, didn’t I? So what’s this hidden talent you have? Are you a singer?”

  Jenny shook her head. “No, I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but I have been known to paint. I’m not sure how good I am, though…”

  “Good is in the eye of the beholder,” Elanor stated. “I’ll tell you what…I’ve been to some museums that have housed million dollar paintings, and all I see is crap. It looks to me like somebody spilled some paint on a canvas and forgot to clean it up. But, clearly, to some people those paintings are exquisite.” She shrugged her shoulders. “So what do you paint?”

  “Landscapes, mostly.”

  “Landscapes. Now, that I can get into. Do your trees look like trees, or are they purple and upside down?”

  “I do my best to make my pictures lifelike.”

  “Then I’m sure I would like your paintings. And I’m sure you are much more talented than I am in that regard. I can’t even draw a stick figure with legs the same length. Do you have your paintings hanging around your house?”