Rosemary's Ghosts (Tess Schafer-Medium)

by Deborah J. Hughes

  In direct contrast to the turmoil bubbling inside my chest, the water was calm as glass, reflecting the dark gray of the clouds in a perfect mirror image of the sky. Any other time I'd be somewhat enchanted. But not today.

  The shoreline was barely visible and it was pretty evident that the fog was going to be a problem as the day wore on. Great. Just freakin' great. Kade was going to flip out with worry. And what about Dennis and Alex?

  Rosemary came up beside me and plucked at my arm in a gesture of sympathy. "It's very rare for her not to come. Something must have happened."

  I gave Rosemary's hand, cold and stiff with tension, a comforting pat. "Maybe the weather had her concerned for the fog is rolling in and looks to worsen. She might not have wanted to risk getting lost in it."

  "But you'll be stuck here again. I know that isn't pleasing you at all."

  "Only because I am worried about my animals and my boyfriend. He'll be sick with worry because he can't get in touch with me and I didn't tell him where I was." Why did I not give him that valuable, very important piece of information? Did I have no sense at all? Frustrated with the situation and upset with myself for getting into it, I turned away and did my best not to stomp across the lawn to the cabin.

  "I'm sorry, Tess." Rosemary touched my back and I swung around with a forced smile. No matter how I felt about it, I didn't want Rosemary feeling bad.

  "Just so long as you don't mind my company, Rosemary, we'll make do. I'm sure she'll be here tomorrow and if not, well then Kade, my boyfriend, will be home and he'll come looking for me. My car is parked at the boat landing. It's sure to start getting attention."

  I might have to build a fire to gain attention but one way or another I'd be off this island come tomorrow. And then that idea began to take hold and grow. "Rosemary, let's build a bonfire!"

  "To scare the spirits away?"

  "Yes!" And to possibly gain the attention of the living as well. Perhaps someone on the mainland would see the fire, report it and then, hopefully, come investigate. If it also warded off some evil spirit activity, well great so be it. Not that I was worried about evil spirits because I wasn't. Or so I told myself anyway.

  "Shall we burn some sage as well?" Rosemary headed into the house with a sense of purpose and I followed along in much the same manner. If I was going to continue to be here, I might as well make myself useful and work some more on ridding Rosemary of her ghosts.

  Chapter Five

  At the back of the kitchen was a floor-to-ceiling corner cabinet stuffed full of canning jars containing assorted fruits and vegetables. There were also jars of dried plants and herbs. Rosemary grabbed one of the jars and held it up for my inspection. "Here we are! Dried sage. How much do we need?"

  "Just a small bundle will do, Rosemary." She handed me a couple sprigs and I headed for the living room with them. "Do you have any matches?"

  Rosemary pointed to a tin on the windowsill next to the woodstove and nodding my thanks, I set to work. The first order of business was to get myself in the right state of mind. I began by focusing on my breath, imagining the air coming into my lungs as potent with spiritual energy, infusing my blood and circulating everywhere. I was at once relaxed, yet buzzing with internal excitement. Since I believed prayer an important part of this process, I silently recited the one I considered quite powerful, the Lord's Prayer, and once I was through, I asked God to bless Rosemary's home.

  Feeling quite confident because it truly felt as if I'd just plugged into a spiritual power source, I opened my eyes, lit the sage and began to gently wave the aromatic smoke about the room. Rosemary followed along, her eyes wide with fascination and just a little worry.

  "We ask for positive energy to fill this home with love and that each room be filled with spiritual light." Since Rosemary didn't want me mentioning God, I was careful not to do so. It didn't matter what we called it anyway ... God would do what we intended in this ritual whether we called him by name or not. I didn't doubt that. Not a bit.

  The sage smoke filtered throughout the room, its aromatic fragrance creating a pleasant atmosphere. Positive energy buzzed around me and a glance at Rosemary told me she felt it too. In fact, it was somewhat of a surprise to see her standing in the center of the room drawing in deep appreciative breaths.

  "I just love the smell of sage." She looked at me with smiling eyes, her whole demeanor completely transformed from the weary woman of moments before.

  A little surprised by her response, I walked toward her and the closer I got, the wider her eyes became until suddenly she lifted her hands high in the air as if filled with rapture.

  "Oh my dear! Oh my!" She swayed on her feet and then slowly turned around in a complete circle. "I can feel it, Tess."

  Not sure what was going on, I watched Rosemary in confusion, forgetting about the burning sage until I felt the sting of heat on my fingers. After quickly dispensing of the singed stems by tossing them on top of the wood stove, I resumed my observation, curious about Rosemary's reaction. She hadn't smiled much since my arrival here and although it was quite wonderful to see her face lit with joy, I couldn't help but wonder what was causing it. "What are you feeling, Rosemary?"

  "I feel love, Tess. Can't you feel it?" Her glistening eyes, swimming in unshed tears, met mine and clung. I nodded in silent answer to her question and her mouth twisted into a wobbly smile. "I feel warm. I can feel ... oh I don't know how to describe it but it's very nice. I feel nice all over." She shook her head as further words failed her. When she finally did speak, it was more to herself than to me. "It's like the way I used to feel when I was a young child and snuggled with my mother. There's nothing to compare to the contentment I enjoyed when held in her loving arms. I feel like that."

  Her emotions were so strong they affected mine, causing tears to fill my eyes and clog my throat. Rosemary couldn't possibly feel like that unless she was opening herself to the positive energy filling the room. Seeing the contentment on her face made my time here worth the trouble. How could I continue to resent it when Rosemary was finally finding some peace? For her, these rituals like sage burning were inducing amazing feelings and it was at that moment that I realized I took it all for granted. It really was an awe inspiring experience and I should always be like Rosemary ... filled with joy over it.

  As the aroma of the sage wore off, Rosemary's arms lowered until she was hugging herself. Although she continued to look quite peaceful, her excited joy was fading to calm contentment. Since I wanted Rosemary to hold this moment as long as possible, I turned away and walked around the cabin, infusing it with imagined light. I could feel a difference in the air, a feeling of peace. But something still wasn't right.

  Rosemary was in her rocking chair, her eyes closed, when I came out of the bedroom. I headed for the couch and sat quietly, waiting for her to break the silence. After several minutes she opened her eyes. "I felt so much peace while you did that sage burning thing. I don't feel peaceful all that often. If ever."

  Although I was glad Rosemary experienced something so positive from the smudging, I wasn't at all sure why. It could be she felt the negative energy dissipating and became in-tuned to the positive vibrations created by the withdrawal. This was her home after all and she was very connected to it, especially considering she was alone here so much of the time.

  "Tess, I really love the idea of lighting a bonfire tonight! I think we really could chase off the evil spirits that like to bother me. It will be fun don't you think?"

  Her face was lit up much like a child's might when talking about Christmas. No way was I going to take that away from her. Besides, I really hoped to gain some attention on the mainland. A twinge of disloyalty yanked at my consciousness for it wouldn't really be fair to Rosemary if our fun was cut short by a rescue. Not that I needed rescuing exactly. But I did want to go home and sleep in my own bed. The idea of another night on the couch was not at all appealing. Then again, what were a few uncomfortable sacrifices when helping out a friend? And
I did consider Rosemary my friend.

  "It's a great idea and I'm looking forward to it, Rosemary."

  Smiling with contentment, Rosemary picked up her doily and went to work. I watched in fascination as her fingers moved in rhythm with the crochet hook. The doily was nearly done and from what I could see, it looked like a star pattern of some sort. I leaned forward to get a better look and when Rosemary saw my interest, she held it up for me to see. I was right, it was indeed a star. "That's really nice, Rosemary."

  "Do you like it? I would be happy if you take it when I am done."

  "Oh no, you are doing that for your table."

  "Tess, all I have to do here is crochet. I have plenty of time to do another one. I'd like you to have it." She spread it across her lap then shot me a sideways glance. "Would you like me to put a stripe around it or anything?"

  "I don't want you to put yourself out on my account. What you have done is more than fine though I'd be happy to wait for you to do another if you'd rather keep that one."

  "No, no. I want you to have this one. Are you sure you wouldn't like me to personalize it more for your taste?"

  Since she seemed so eager and I was curious as to what she could do, I gave a small shrug. "Is it possible to crochet another color around the star until it's encased in a circle?" Then I'd have a doily in the shape of a closed pentagram and I knew just the table to put it on.

  Rosemary nodded with enthusiasm, eager to please and happy for my interest. "Oh yes! What color would you like? I have blue, red and black available."

  "Black."

  "That will look so nice. I'll have this done before Grace gets here tomorrow." At the mention of her daughter, some of the light left Rosemary's eyes. "I do hope she's okay."

  "Does she live alone?"

  "Oh yes." Like Grace wouldn't have it any other way.

  "Where does she work?"

  "Why all this interest in my daughter?"

  Wondering at the defensiveness of her tone, I gave an apologetic shrug. "I'm just curious, Rosemary. You don't have to answer my questions if you don't want to." Although I found it curious that Rosemary didn't want to talk about Grace (what parent resists the opportunity to brag about their children?), it was the next question I really wanted answered. "Who is Angel?"

  Rosemary's face paled to a gray pallor and her busy hands stilled. "What?"

  "When Grace was here she mentioned someone named Angel."

  Tears gathered in Rosemary's eyes. "Oh my dear." Her hands tightened on her crochet hook and then she set to work on the doily with a vengeance. "I don't ... I don't want to talk about it."

  Sighing to myself, I wondered how to keep Rosemary from closing up on me every time I tried to talk to her about something personal. "After your husband died, did you and Grace continue to live together at your grandparents' house or did you come here?"

  "I stayed there for a time. But she needs to live her life without worrying about me. So, I stay here."

  "But she doesn't want you here, Rosemary, and she is worried about you. Have you considered how much of a bother it must be for her to row out here every day to see you."

  Rosemary's mouth dropped open and then closed tight. Picking up her doily, she set to it with a vengeance, rocking her chair in such a way I knew to stay quiet. When the silence between us stretched to the point of becoming uncomfortable, her shoulders sagged and she heaved a resigned sigh. "I haven't thought about it that way." Her eyes lifted to mine, remorse darkening them to a deep green. "It isn't fair to her."

  "She loves you. She'll do whatever she has to do to see you." I leaned forward and patted her arm with reassurance. "Grace is more concerned about what is fair for you than she is worried about herself."

  Rosemary sighed and sank back against her chair, her hands resting atop the doily now lying forgotten in her lap. "I know. She's always been very devoted to me. Too devoted." Rosemary's mouth tightened for a moment and then she again went to work with her crochet hook.

  "Did something happen to make you move out here?"

  Rosemary stopped again and stared off into space. "Yes."

  "What? What happened? Please tell me."

  Rosemary's eyes teared up again and though she tried to blink the moisture away they spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. "Do we really need to talk about this?"

  "Not if you don't want to. I don't want you upset, Rosemary. But I want to be your friend and help you."

  "Grace is such a pretty girl. It's always a problem when they are pretty." She glanced at me and then away again, her gaze staring off toward the window. Her focus, however, was all inward.

  Afraid she'd close up on me again, I spoke in a soft, agreeable voice. "Grace is very pretty."

  "The boys were always all over her." Rosemary's voice deepened to bitterness as she continued. "They wouldn't leave her alone." She rubbed at her forehead as if wishing to erase away the memories. "She enjoyed the attention."

  "It's understandable. Boys and girls ... they get rambunctious in their teen years. Their hormones are going all crazy on them."

  Rosemary nodded. "Yes but that doesn't give the boys leave to be inconsiderate."

  I thought people of both sexes and at any age could be guilty of that but I said nothing. Rosemary was obviously remembering some unpleasant memories and I didn't want to jeopardize her telling me about them.

  "They thought she'd be easy because of me. I always knew it was going to be a problem for her." More tears slid down Rosemary's face. "I tried to protect her as best I could but when she entered high school, she ... well, she didn't want to listen to me so much."

  "Most kids at some point or another are more influenced by their friends than their well-meaning parents, Rosemary. It's just the process we all go through growing up. We are being groomed, after all, to become independent. It just accelerates during the high school years."

  Rosemary nodded and drew in a ragged breath. "I know. I do. But it was hard for me to see her making choices I knew she was going to regret. The more I tried to talk to her, the more determined she was to do just the opposite of anything I suggested."

  More likely she issued orders more so than suggestions, but I said nothing. I had those rebellious years with my parents as well. The more concerned they were for the choices I made, the more authoritative they became. That only made me more determined to do things my way. Much to my later regret. "Teenagers often believe they know more than their parents. Again, it's a natural process of growing up."

  "But Grace wasn't happy with her decisions. She cried all the time. One boy after another would break her heart. I tried to get her to see they weren't interested in her heart. They were focused on something much less emotionally engaged than that."

  "So what happened, Rosemary?" I was beginning to get a pretty good idea on who Angel might be and my heart grew heavy. I wasn't sure at first that Rosemary was going to tell me, but now we were on the subject and though she didn't want the memories to flood her, they were rolling through her head and she needed to get them out. "It helps to talk about it."

  "Grace got pregnant her junior year in high school."

  "And the baby's father? What about him?"

  Rosemary shook her head, her mouth compressing in a hard line. "Oh, Tess .... Grace wasn't even sure who the father was." A choked sob escaped and Rosemary gave up the fight of holding in her tears. She dropped her head, crying quietly and once she was able, she started talking again. "I wanted her life to be different from mine and she ended up just like me."

  "But she's doing well now. It's easy to see how well adjusted she is." I thought about Grace's aura, how vibrant it was when she was here. Whatever happened in her childhood, she'd obviously overcome it. Why couldn't Rosemary see that? Maybe that is what Grace meant by my getting her mother to see. I slid off the couch and knelt before her, covering her cold hands with mine. "What happened, Rosemary?"

  "She lost the baby."

  "Was it a girl?"

  Rosemary no
dded.

  "Was her name Angel?"

  Rosemary nodded again and tried to reign in her emotions. She pressed her trembling mouth closed but the tears clogging her throat were not to be contained. She made a few choking noises, drew in a harsh breath and then finally managed to speak. "She was so precious. Like a little angel."

  "That must have been very hard for you and Grace."

  "Yes."

  Is that why Rosemary isolated herself by coming here? There had to be more to the story. "Grace is doing well now, Rosemary. Surely you see that."

  "Is she?" Rosemary stood up and headed for the kitchen. "I need some tea. Would you like some as well?"

  "Sure, that would be nice." I fell back against the couch feeling quite deflated. Though I managed to get Rosemary to share her tragedy with me, I wanted to hear the rest of the story. I didn't doubt it for a moment that there was more.

  Rosemary's startled cry and the thud of something crashing to the floor pulled me from my thoughts. I jumped up and whirled around, bracing for anything.

  Rosemary stood staring at the floor, two smashed mugs scattered at her feet. "They were yanked right out of my hands!"

  I rushed to her side and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She felt so tense I wanted to give her a hug but I was pretty sure she wasn't ready for one yet. "I'll clean this up, Rosemary." Before she could protest, I picked up the larger ceramic pieces and tossed them in the garbage can next to the refrigerator. The broom was propped next to it and I made quick work sweeping up the rest of the mess. It worried me the way Rosemary just stood there watching me. Once my hands were free, I tentatively reached out to her. "Rosemary?"

  She let me pull her into a hug though her body was stiff and unyielding. I closed my eyes and imagined a flood of soft green light cascading over her, soaking into her skin, penetrating deep. I considered green light to be healing and Rosemary's heart needed it.

  After a few quiet minutes, she started relaxing, continuing to do so until she sagged against me. "Oh, Tess. I felt so bad for my daughter."