The door opened not a minute later and Grace came through with a box. I couldn’t see all that was in it, but I did notice a couple of books standing on end and peaking above the top. Grace set the box down on the butcher block, picked up her tea, gave her mother an affectionate peck on the cheek then headed for the living room to sit on the sofa, settling herself comfortably by kicking off her flip flops (which were rather inappropriate for this time of year) and crossing her jean clad legs. She sipped her tea, watching as I returned to the chair and arched her brows in silent question.
“So you are a medium but you can’t see my mama’s ghosts? Why?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t see every ghost, only some of them.”
“But why is that? Are you only a medium sometimes?”
If only I knew the answer to her question. I had no idea why some ghosts appeared before me while others did not. It was quite a mystery and one I didn’t figure to ever solve. “I guess I only see those who want me to see them.”
Grace’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “There’s a ghost that hangs out over at the tomb. Have you seen her?”
Was she talking about the woman I dubbed The Tomb Lady? Excitement raced through me that I might discover who she is and I leaned forward in eager anticipation. “I’ve met her and talked to her. Do you know who it is?”
Grace gave a casual shrug, her face suddenly looking quite secretive. “Perhaps, but since you say that ghosts only appear to those whom they want to see them, then it stands to reason that she should be the one to tell you who she is.”
So she was not going to be helpful. I guess I couldn’t blame her. She and her mother had plenty of experience with people who had destroyed their trust. If I wanted her to trust me, I was going to have to earn it. “So, Grace, do you live far from here?”
Grace glanced at her mother and then lowered her gaze to the cup she held cradled in her hands. “Not far.” She took a sip of her tea and raised her eyes to meet mine. “So, you said you can feel that there are ghosts here. What do you suppose they want?”
Rosemary was rocking quietly in her chair, listening to our exchange but stopped at this point to await my answer, her expression tense. “I have no idea but I don’t think they mean any harm.”
It wasn’t until Grace sighed in what appeared to be relief that I even realized she was tensed up. But why? If she could see the ghosts, then what did she have to be worried about? “What do you think they want, Grace?”
When Grace didn’t answer, her mother jumped in, obviously thinking she had an ally in me. “She thinks they have a message for me. But I ask you, what sort of message would I be interested in receiving from the dead?”
“Maybe it’s Gramma come to talk to you,” Grace said in a quiet, patient voice. “Maybe it’s Angel all grown up.”
Rosemary’s face went pale, her eyes darkening with an emotion I couldn't identify. "We will speak of this no more." She stood and gathered our empty cups then hurried off into the kitchen, leaving Grace and I staring at each other in dismay. Rosemary had just shut down and we weren’t going to solve anything if she remained that way.
Now I had something else to wonder about. Who was Angel? Had Rosemary lost a child?
“Do you know who the spirits are, Grace? You have the gift the same as I do don’t you?”
“What I know is that you shouldn’t be here. You have no idea what is going on with my mother and you being here is only going to make matters worse. You need to leave. Now.” But Rosemary had come back at that moment and she heard the quietly hissed words.
“Grace! What has gotten into you?”
“I’m sorry but I don’t want her here making you think it’s okay to live here like a hermit. You are all alone, Mama. I don’t want you to be alone anymore. I want you to come with me. Come be with me.”
The impassioned plea tugged at my heart but did nothing for Rosemary. Her faced closed up tight, her eyes clearly mirroring her withdrawal. “There is nowhere I would rather be, Grace. I will stay here. Just don’t stop coming to see me, that’s all I ask.”
Grace’s blue eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away then stood up. “I should leave then. You have company and I am clearly in the way.”
Rosemary came around the sofa to capture her in a hug. “Don’t leave. I need you here. I always need you. Let us all just talk about other stuff. We won't even mention the ghosts.”
The room went silent as the three of us contemplated each other. After a rather tense moment, Grace bowed her head and rested it against her mother’s shoulder. Some of the tension melted from Rosemary’s stance and just as she started to draw away, the front door swung closed. Then the open windows on either side of it slammed shut, rattling the pains as they did so.
Grace’s eyes widened in surprise then narrowed with purpose but when she tried to pull away from her mother Rosemary held firm to her arm. "No, Grace. Don't do anything to provoke them."
Before any of us could do anything, however, one of the chairs tucked under the dining table jerked out and turned slowly, stopping once its seat was facing us. A slight pause and then it was charging across the floor stopping just inches from Grace’s legs. Though she flinched at its approach, she did not back away.
A rattling noise in the kitchen was next to grab our attention. The cups Rosemary had washed and set out to dry shimmied across the metal surface of the sink’s counter space and went crashing to the floor. Then the pictures on the wall near the dining table began to shake until they too fell to the floor and shattered.
“Stop it! Just stop!” Rosemary ran to rescue the two remaining pictures but they flew off the wall before she got to them and crashed at her feet. Rosemary stopped to stare at the mess, her face white with shock. “Oh no, oh dear! We’ve angered them.”
Grace shot me a harried look as she rushed to embrace her mother, squeezing her tight for a moment before releasing an arm to wave at the mess. “See, Mama? You can’t stay here. Not anymore. Come with me, please!”
The expression on Rosemary’s face was completely void of emotion when she looked up at her daughter. “No.” And then in a whisper of anguish, “I can’t.”
I watched the drama play out before me with a strange sense of detachment. There was a lot of emotion swirling in the room. The spirits were indeed upset but I wasn’t sure what was upsetting them. I had a feeling it had something to do with me and wondered if it was best that I leave. But at the same time, I felt guilty as hell for even contemplating leaving Rosemary here to deal with this on her own. Clearly she needed help. Running off with Grace was not going to fix it. I had a strong impression that the ghosts were here for Rosemary and no matter where she went, they would follow. And because of that, I knew it was time to throw in my two cents worth.
"We need to talk to them, Rosemary. We need to know what they want.”
Rosemary and Grace swung around to face me. Rosemary's expression conveyed her wariness and confusion but Grace, on the other hand, looked hopeful. She met my eyes for a moment and then turned to her mother. “Listen to her, Mama. She’s your new friend. She’s here to help you.”
Rosemary met Grace's eyes and held her gaze for several seconds. “I don’t know, Gracie. I just don’t.”
Grace’s eyes brightened with tears. She brushed them away with an impatient hand and leaned forward to kiss her mother’s cheek. “I’m going to go now. I want you to talk to Tess and listen to her. Will you do that, Mama? Will you listen to her?”
Rosemary nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Grace gave her a tight hug. “I love you, Mama.” She pulled away reluctantly then turned to the door, beckoning me to follow her as she did so.
Rosemary grabbed a broom and set to work cleaning up the mess. But just as I got to the door she stopped to look at me.
“You will come back, Tess, won’t you?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Rosemary.”
Grace was nearly to the sagging wharf by the time I caught up to
her. A small battered rowboat was tied to one of the posts and she wasted no time getting into it. Since it rocked precariously under her weight, I hurried to hold it steady and once she was settled in her seat, I untied the rope and tossed it in, maintaining my hold to keep her from drifting away while we talked.
Grace looked out over the water for a reflective moment and then turned to me, her expression quite solemn. She seemed to have aged before my eyes and I knew the worry for her mother was taking its toll. “You have nothing to fear here, Tess. But you have to be doing the right thing or they won’t like it.”
I didn’t ask her who “they” were. I knew she was talking about the spirits. But I wished she’d tell me who they were. It might help me understand what needed to be done. “I mean well for her, Grace.”
“I know. She’s been here so long…” Grace broke off and closed her eyes. She drew in a deep breath then opened her eyes and glanced back at the cabin. “I love my mother. She shouldn’t be here. She doesn’t deserve this but she punishes herself and I can’t make her see that it’s not necessary.”
“Punishes herself for what?” Why oh why did I feel everything hinged on her answer to that question?
“She takes responsibility for everything that has happened in her life and punishes herself for it.” Grace covered my hand with her own. Her grip was firm, warm and filled with desperation. “Help her to see, Tess. She needs to see them.”
“I can’t make them appear to anyone unless they want to.”
“They want to. It’s my mom who stops it.” Grace heaved a heavy sigh, the weight of her worry pulling her shoulders down, slumping her body. “You need to see too, Tess. You need to see them." Her eyes pierced mine with a challenging stare. "So what is stopping you?”
“I don’t know what you mean? I’ve been trying…”
“Have you? Or do you just go along with what is easiest?”
“What does that mean?” Offended by the remark, I drew in a sharp breath. It was on the tip of my tongue to fire back with "And yet who is running off?" but managed to keep my mouth shut. I did not come out here to argue with her. Still, I couldn't help but seethe at the idea she thought I was holding back with my ability and not trying my best to help.
“I just keep wondering why you are here?”
“Your mother beckoned me here. I had no idea anyone was living on this island until she came out of the house and started waving at me.” A chilly breeze kicked up just then and I lifted my head to look around. Clouds were rolling in, blocking the sun. I wouldn’t have long to stay with Rosemary before I’d have to start back for shore myself. No way did I want to get stuck out here over night.
“Get her talking, Tess. She needs to see things from someone else’s perspective. It can’t be mine. We are too close and she doesn’t believe me … my version of things. She won’t accept the truth of her life and until she does, I’ll never get her off this God forsaken place!”
Her impassioned speech made me cringe a little inside. Dealing with ghosts I could do, dealing with human emotional trauma, not my area of expertise. I was no psychiatrist. Not by a long shot. “There are worst places for a person to live, Grace.” But I knew what she meant. There was no electricity here, no connection to the world. And every day Grace had to row this boat out to see her. I could see how she would resent the island. It kept her mother way too isolated. “All I can do is talk to her.”
“Yes. Do that. Let her talk to you.” The breeze began rocking the boat and Grace put her oars in the water. “I need to go.”
I gave her a shove away from the dock and stood watching as she rowed away. The mainland was a dark line in the distance, not so terribly far and yet too far in many ways. After giving the clouds another contemplative glance, I looked at my watch. It was just after one. I was pretty sure the weather report had not mentioned rain so I wasn’t too concerned about a storm. But I needed to be sure to leave before dark, giving myself plenty of time to reach the boat landing before I could no longer see it. I'd stay a couple hours at the most and then come back tomorrow. Hopefully the sudden increase in spirit activity would calm down during that time. And if I was really lucky, like in a major way, maybe I could get Rosemary to come home with me. That was really the best plan.
But I knew as I made my way across the small expanse of overgrown lawn that I shouldn’t hold much hope of that happening. If Grace couldn’t get her off the island, I seriously doubted I would be able to do it.
Regardless what happened, I would try to do something to calm the paranormal activity plaguing her and hopefully, if nothing else, give her a peaceful night. One could hope. Right?
Chapter Two
Rosemary was sitting in her rocking chair crocheting a doily when I rejoined her. She glanced up with a smile, welcoming me back then bent her head over her work. A fresh mug of tea was waiting for me, as was an egg salad sandwich made with home-baked bread.
“I thought you might be hungry.”
“Thanks, Rosemary.” When I noted that she didn’t also have a sandwich I waved toward my plate. She had cut it in half and I was more than happy to share. Coming here and eating her food made me a little uncomfortable. “Did you eat too? Do you want half?”
“I ate while you were talking to Grace.” Rosemary smiled at me and nodded with quiet appreciation. “You are a thoughtful young lady, aren’t you?”
Uncomfortable with the compliment, feeling like I was intruding too much on her hospitality, I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. “You should have chickens. They would keep you company and give you plenty of eggs.”
“I did at one time, in fact. But when they died off, I just never bothered to replace them.”
Just how long has she been here? How long did chickens live? "Your daughter is really nice. You must be very proud of her." I figured this was the best topic to get her talking and judging from the animation on Rosemary's face, I was right.
"She's a true gift to me. I am so lucky to have her in my life."
"You are, Rosemary. I hope someday to have a child with whom I shall have a close relationship. One as close as what the two of you have."
"It's been hard on Grace, growing up with a mother like me. But she never complained."
"What do you mean?"
"We didn't have much money and for the first few years, she didn't have a father either." Rosemary's mouth tightened, her crochet hook moving a little faster. "Not that I did her any favors when I finally found her one."
"So you did eventually marry then?"
Her eyes narrowing with self-censure, Rosemary pursed her lips in disgust. "Yes, but he died and it's just been me and Grace."
"Is she married now?"
"Grace?" Rosemary's eyes widened into an incredulous expression, as if even the possibility of such a thing was so remote it didn't bare thinking about. I had to hide a smile.
"Goodness no. The boys, well they are nothing but a thorn in that poor girl's side." Rosemary rocked her chair with growing agitation, the crochet project lying forgotten in her lap. "It's my fault I'm sure. I guess they figured with her having someone like me for a mother she was going to be easy." She compressed her lips for a moment and I was sure she was trying to reign in the irritation flooding through her. "She's a pretty girl as you can see and they started flocking around her as soon as she sprouted boobs." Rosemary sighed and rubbed at her temples. "Something that happened way too soon unfortunately."
"So she lives alone then?"
Scowling in defense, Rosemary dropped her hands onto her lap. "Is there something wrong with that?"
"No, of course not. But, well ... I hope she isn't lonely." Like you! But of course I couldn't add that part.
"Grace is fine. She's happy and that is all that matters."
"So who is Angel?"
Rosemary shot out of her chair, her ball of thread and partially made doily falling to the floor. "I don't want to talk anymore, Tess. Not about Grace." She picked up my empty plate and headed for t
he kitchen. "I have no-bake cookies. Do you like those?"
Sighing with resignation, I turned in my seat to watch her. "That sounds wonderful." Rosemary opened a cupboard door and pulled down a plain metal tin. Her body was stiff, her movements jerky. Obviously Angel was a touchy subject. And now more than ever I wanted to know who she was. One thing for near certain ... Angel was most likely no longer in the land of the living. The physically living anyway.
Rosemary returned with a cookie in her hand. She handed it to me then sat back down in her chair. Once she had the tangled mess on the floor back in her lap, she stared at it for a long, quiet moment. Then heaving a sigh, she looked up at me, her mouth opening to speak but before she could say anything, the front door clicked open, moving in a steady, controlled motion until it banged lightly against the wall.
Rosemary and I waited in silence, knowing more was to come and bracing for it. A moment of stillness. An air of anticipation. Then the same chair from the earlier incident slid away from the table, the legs scraping loud against the floor as it did so. It happened so fast we didn't even have time to react before it suddenly swung around to face us. Even though this happened when Grace was here, seeing it again, coupled with its unnatural movement, freaked me out.
Although it didn't quite work for me earlier, I quickly imagined a protective light surrounding Rosemary and I. Past experience told me the method worked quite well. Besides, I had nothing else to work with - not that this shouldn't be enough. Since I considered the imaginary light to be sourced from God, it was the best defense I had against negative spirit energy. In fact, it worked so well in past situations that I now used it automatically when spirit activity was afoot.
I also sent out my psychic feelers in an effort to "see" who had just joined us but I couldn't bring anyone into focus. Since someone was obviously there, I could only deduce they did not want to connect with me. Just what did Rosemary's ghosts have against me anyway?
"This happens all the time." Rosemary pressed a hand to her chest, just below her throat, and locked eyes with me. Worry floated in their darkened depths.
Rosemary's Ghosts (Tess Schafer-Medium) Page 4