Moody & The Ghost - Books 1-4 (Moody Mysteries)

by Kim Hornsby

  Hodor stopped several times and although I wasn’t sure if he sniffed, pooped or peed, I eventually gave him the command back to the car and he led me to somebody’s car where I got in the back seat with him. Hearing my mother laughing like a flirtatious schoolgirl told me that it was the right car and she was an idiot.

  Ron had dropped her fast and hard after I’d given him the information he needed on his homicide case and that had hurt my mother’s feelings to the point of crying for days. Unless she was flirting with Ron in a grand plan to drop him fast and hard as revenge, the sound of my mother’s flirty voice made me grind my teeth in frustration. Her love life was something I’d always vowed to stay out of with good reason. Keeping up with her flip-flopping emotions was exhausting and not very rewarding.

  Hodor settled beside me and as I put in my earbuds to listen to Sia’s latest song, I realized both Momsy and I were letting men take advantage of us. If Caspian was using me as a way to recapture Rachel of the 1850’s, I was no better than the woman now speeding out of a slow zone to the highway north to Seattle.

  The next morning at Floatville, my mother headed out at the crack of ten to “run an errand,” but I knew better. My hearing was acute now and from our shared bathroom on Floatville, I’d heard enough primping to know she was probably meeting Ron. That, and the fact I’m psychic and just knew what she was up to. I’d had to tell her I was going out for lunch because I didn’t want to call a ride share and risk getting robbed or worse. I needed my mother to drive me.

  “Where are you going?” my mother had asked. She wasn’t exactly on warm and fuzzy terms with her own mother.

  “To see my Ganna, so please return to take me there,” I said. I didn’t want to tell her what information I’d be trying to extract from Ganna about our Portland descendants.

  “I’ll be back at noon,” my mother said, tripping lightly to the door.

  “While you’re out on errands, ask Ron why he hasn’t called in weeks and suddenly wants to see you. Does he have more questions about the case or is he on a new case he needs me for?”

  Rachel slammed the door before I pointed out that he dropped her like a hot potato. With time to spare, I took Hodor out on his harness to do some training. For a flunky of service dog school, he was doing remarkably well in proving the trainers wrong.

  We walked to the end of the dock, turned right and navigated the parking lot on dry land to his favorite patch of grass. I dropped the harness handle and let him roam while the sunshine of the May day warmed my head. I’d been told to wear sunscreen because it wasn’t good to get sun on a scar but what did I care? I couldn’t see my face and Caspian already thought it was a horrible flaw. In times of sight, I’d studied Frankenscar and actually thought it added character to my face as a paranormal investigator.

  Birds chirped and sang in the trees while Hodor sniffed loudly from a patch of bushes that might have seen some recent bunny activity. A swishing sound that reminded me of my blue dress in the 1850’s came closer from above until I realized a bird was headed towards me. I held out my arm in case it was the crow I’d met before and he needed somewhere to land. A breeze from his wings fluttered across my face as he lighted on my forearm.

  “Is that you, Crow?”

  The weighty bird positioned himself, his claws gripping my arm through my sleeve.

  “Are you someone’s pet?” I asked.

  He hopped around and I stood still hoping to get a reading on who this crow was until my first clue presented itself.

  “Hoist the jib,” the crow said as plain as day.

  I almost dropped my arm.

  I stood frozen in stature wondering if I’d heard right. “Hoist the jib?” I whispered.

  The crow pushed against my arm and took off to leave me wondering if this bird belonged to someone with a sailboat in the marina. Hoist the jib was a sailing term that meant raise the small sail in front of the mainsail and I was sure it was said by lots of people who had boats in the slips at this maze of docks.

  As I waited for Hodor to come back, I realized you only hoist a jib when you have motored out of the marina and are ready to sail. The crow probably would not have heard the term from simply sitting in the trees in the marina. It would have to be on a sailboat beyond the canal to hear the sailing command.

  My mother returned to Floatville in time to drive me to Woodinville where my grandmother lived in a small cottage on a creek. Although I’d never been particularly close to my grandmother because she and my mother had stopped talking decades earlier, I’d seen her at family functions over the years. She looked like Rachel probably would in another twenty-five years, with gray hair at her temples and a lovely fanning of wrinkles around her deep, dark eyes. We all seemed to look similar in this crazy family.

  My grandmother, who everyone called “Ganna,” was a loving, empathetic person, that being her curse and her skill. My middle name was hers, given back in the days when my mother was still speaking to her. Tallulah Primrose loved too deeply and felt the emotions of those around her, thus necessitating a quiet existence on an acreage where she saw very few visitors. She’d withdrawn in the last decade, only coming out of hiding for family requests.

  Long ago, when I was about ten, she threatened to take me away from my mother if Rachel didn’t clean up her act. I remembered the words exchanged, while I was hiding in the closet and eavesdropping. Words like “social services,” “innocent child,” “custody,” and “drinking.” My mother got rid of her visitor quite impolitely, threw out all the alcohol in our tiny apartment in my uncle’s basement and cut off ties with her own mother. Rachel cleaned up her act for a bit, probably in fear of Social Services and never fell back into the drinking hole that had dictated her life the year before that conversation.

  The last time I’d seen Ganna was a few years earlier when Eve and I visited. I’d asked Eve to take me. Ganna granted me the audience which is what it was like because the woman was almost otherworldly with her mannerisms and soft-spoken nature. She was only sixty-five at the time and was gardening when we arrived in my little car I called Austin. It had been a lovely day of tea and biscuits in the garden, talking, avoiding the topic of my mother, and the visit ended much too soon.

  When I left, she hugged me close to her and pulled away with sad eyes. I’d asked her if something was wrong and the sadness clouded her face.

  “Nothing wrong, my child. It was so nice to see you and have the chance to feel you,” she said. Any other family might find this phrase creepy or at least questionable, but not in our family. We felt each other all the time and Tallulah Primrose more than most. That was why she couldn’t come to Harry’s funeral, Eve had told me. The sadness and emotions would have been too much.

  Even speaking to her on the phone two days earlier from Cove House, she’d tried to get out of having me come visit but I’d insisted I need to talk to her about the Portland Primroses.

  “Ah,” she’d said knowingly. “Yes, come at noon.”

  Rachel dropped me off at the top of the dirt road, telling me to let Hodor lead me to the grassy yard and then just call, “Come out, Old Crone.” Feeling fear from my mother, I didn’t insist she drive me down the laneway to her mother’s lawn.

  “I’ll call when I’m done,” I said. I might have slammed the door a little too hard but at least my mother didn’t turn the car around until I got away from the vehicle.

  Hodor led me down the road uneventfully until he stopped, and my face hit a branch. I recoiled. “Thanks a lot, guide dog,” I said. “Where’s the house? Where’s the house?” Hodor didn’t move so I flipped open TapTap hoping I’d be able to find grass.

  “Back up four steps and turn left,” my mother’s voice called from the top of the road. “Then walk forward.” So, my mother hadn’t driven off after all. She’d stayed to see I wouldn’t go walking into the woods never to be seen again. Although most people wouldn’t consider this exceptional parenting, it warmed my heart to think she cared on some level.
Then, I realized if her mother came out to see me abandoned on the road, my mother’s name would be mud for not helping her blind daughter get safely down the lane to her grandmother’s house. Rachel wasn’t exactly being unselfish. When I felt the grass under my feet, I knew we had about twenty steps to the cottage, and off we went.

  My grandmother had two dogs last time I’d visited, and it sounded like they were still alive and kicking. Barking announced our arrival from inside the cottage. The door opened and I heard the small dogs’ steps dance around on a wood porch. I stopped and retracted TapTap so I wouldn’t poke one of her fluffy lap dogs in its little eye.

  “Bryndle,” my grandmother said, coming down the stairs towards me, her voice like dark purple velvet. “I am so sorry your sight was taken.” Her words felt like a warm hug. She had that effect on people. “I wished I could have prevented that. Alas.”

  As the dogs got closer, I felt Hodor’s excitement and let go of the harness. He’d want to sniff and behave like a dog around his cousins.

  My grandmother engulfed me in her arms, holding me close, probably feeling all my emotions. I hoped she didn’t pick up on my lusting for a certain sea captain I’d gotten all hot and heavy with in the 1850’s. Ganna smelled like patchouli, one of my favorites, and I took a long, deep breath.

  She took my face in her two warm hands and kissed my cheek. “Sweet Bryndle. You’ve come for answers.”

  My eyes teared at the tenderness this woman gave. I hadn’t known this type of affection growing up and although it felt strange, it also felt like I was melting into the moment. “I wish I could see you,” I whispered.

  My grandmother pulled back, put my arm in hers and we walked around the house presumably to the yard that fronted the river. “People like us see in other ways,” she said. “And that is why your mother probably dropped you off at the top of the road.”

  I didn’t question how she knew that. Either she had seen my mother’s car from her house, or she knew my mother too well. I was just glad to be in the presence of this Primrose woman who had answers for me.

  At least, I hoped she’d be able to shed some light on my story.

  Chapter 6

  My grandmother and I sat in the sunshine at a table where I could smell a lilac tree close by. We exchanged formalities until she left me to get the pot of tea and the sandwiches she’d just prepared. In those moments, I listened to Hodor play with the dogs on the grass nearby. At least I hoped he was playing and not eating them for his own lunch. He’d never met these dogs before, but he was a friendly guy and usually enjoyed a good playful wrestle with any dog who was willing. From the sounds of it, my grandmother’s dogs, who I believed were named Allie and Fuzzball, were having a great time with the newcomer. That or fighting for their lives.

  Ganna’s steps were careful and I assumed she had a tray.

  “I wish I could help you,” I said.

  “No bother. It’s only one tray for one person to carry but I didn’t want to go ass over teakettle on the stairs.” She set the tray on the table and poured me a cup of tea. “What do you take in your tea?” she asked like we weren’t estranged relatives with so much to say to each other.

  “A little milk,” I said. I whistled for Hodor and took off his harness while Ganna set sandwiches on my plate and explained she’d made egg salad for our lunch. “Your dog is a big hit with my puppies,” she said.

  I took a sip of the steaming hot tea and hoped my tongue wouldn’t be burned for the rest of the day. It seemed unreal that I was here, talking to my grandmother after all these years of mostly just hearing about her. Just as unreal as when a ghost speaks to me.

  “I watch your shows on the computer,” Ganna said. “I feel like I know you but then, I’m sure you have an on-camera personality that isn’t the true Bryndle.”

  I smiled and bit into a sandwich. “I’m pretty genuine on the show even if I wear wild costumes. I haven’t divulged that I’m blind yet.”

  “Tell me how you appear to be sighted. I saw you kick a soccer ball.”

  As we ate, I told her about Cove House and Caspian’s effect on my sight. My grandmother asked questions and soaked up my answers like she’d later be writing a book on this stuff. I divulged my feelings for Caspian and when I heard her sigh, I realized that she’d once loved someone fiercely too. Probably my grandfather who died shortly after my mother was born.

  Then it was time to tell her about time traveling. I trusted this woman enough to lay it all out on the table by this time. We’d finished lunch, the dogs were asleep in the shade of a maple tree, she’d said, and we moved to sit in the shade ourselves. I was guided to a cushioned rocking chair on a hard surface and my grandmother sat to my left as I launched into the strange tale of time traveling to the 1850’s as Rachel Primrose.

  She didn’t interrupt. She didn’t ask questions. The only way I knew Ganna was still there was the creak of her chair when she shifted. My story must’ve taken an hour to tell. I left out nothing except the delicious details of Caspian and I in the library. I simply said, “we were intimate.”

  “I don’t know who else to turn to about this,” I said. “Eve says you might be able to shed light on the Portland Primroses.” I was done.

  There was a long silence and for a terrible moment I was afraid Ganna had gone to sleep, that maybe my story of time traveling hadn’t held her attention.

  “Ganna?” I whispered. If she was asleep, I didn’t want to wake her.

  “I’m here,” she said with striking clarity. She took my hand and squeezed it. “I’m processing all you’ve told me.” She let go of my hand and I heard her chair scrape back on the patio cement. I tried to be patient. I was used to people telling me constantly what was happening. Hodor was panting, having moved back to the sunshine presumably and was not far off my crossed legs. I waited until I realized my grandmother was pacing.

  “You have quite a gift,” she finally said, coming to stop in front of me. “I didn’t know the extent. In your show, you appear to have a way with spirits, but this is something else entirely, my dear one. Going back in time is not something I have any experience with, I’m afraid.”

  I heard her take a deep breath, let it out and walk back to her chair. “I think I’ll tell you a story now.”

  I hoped my grandmother wasn’t going to now tell me the tale of how Jack sold the cow for magic beans or something that had nothing to do with what I’d just said. I wanted answers. She would know that.

  I waited.

  “My mother’s name was Elizabeth,” she stated. “Her grandmother’s name was Evelyn and her grandmother was Rachel Primrose who was the daughter of a timber baron in the 1800’s. The story I know of Rachel Primrose, not your mother, of course, is that she became mentally unbalanced after the presumed death of Caspian Cortez, a Spanish sea captain, she loved. She’d become pregnant by him and at the time of her baby’s birth, Caspian was considered missing at sea. She married a military man in spite of her broken heart and they raised the baby.

  I wanted to ask questions, but I held my tongue.

  “Rachel’s heartbreak was a tragedy talked about for generations of Primrose women. The story has been handed down through the years and is part of your heritage although your mother had no interest in this tale.”

  I bit my lips together to keep from commenting on what an ass my mother was.

  “Because Rachel was given to bouts of great confusion and depression before her marriage to Major Vandervoort, she was treated with the utmost care and granted the unusual request of keeping her last name in marriage. She named her daughter Cassidy Rachel Primrose and insisted the child not take the name Vandervoort because without a brother, Rachel was the last of the Primroses. Major Vandervoort respected Rachel’s father and agreed to the unusual request. When Cassidy married, the same request was granted, to keep the Primrose name. Thus, began the tradition of Primrose women keeping their last names in marriage and passing on the last name of Primrose to the girls. We honor
ed our lineage by keeping the Primrose name.” Ganna let out a deep breath like the story took a lot out of her.

  I was so busy processing all this information I didn’t notice my phone ringing, “Bad Moon on the Rise,” my mother’s ringtone.

  “Are you going to get that call?” my grandmother asked.

  “Hello Mother, what is it?”

  “I don’t have time to wait around all day for you to call me to come get you.” Rachel’s voice was full of whiny impatience which sounded so petty next to what I’d just learned about our ancestors.

  “Don’t bother waiting then. I’ll call a taxi.”

  “Just tell me when you need a ride, Bryndle. Then, I can get on with my day.”

  I assumed the time was somewhere between two and three o’clock. “Come get me at five please.” Whether my grandmother wanted me hanging around for another few hours or not, I would find something to do until then.

  “Five is inconvenient.”

  “Don’t come then. Ganna will drive me home.” I knew calling my grandmother by her pet name would infuriate my mother.

  “Your Ganna hasn’t driven for ten years,” Rachel said, and although the words were heard only by me, my grandmother spoke up as if she’d heard.

  “Tell her I drive my car just fine.”

  “She said she’ll drive me back to Floatville. Just be home by nine a.m. tomorrow when we leave for the coast.” With that, I hung up on my mother. “Whether you drive or not, I’ll figure out how to get home.” I smiled in the direction of my grandmother.

  “I’ll call my friend Effie to take you home. She loves to drive my car. Now, where were we when the one Primrose woman who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about her heritage called?”

  I had questions. So many questions. But the first one might finish me for the day. “Does this mean Caspian is my mother’s great-great-great grandfather?” I’d done the math.

  “Yes, I suppose it would.”

  Caspian was technically my great-great-great-great-grandfather. The thought made me now feel like I had the vapors. Yes, I had more questions, but most were for Caspian about how he could kiss me if he knew I was related to him. Did he know I was a Primrose, related to Rachel when he kissed me and professed his love for me, or had he just learned the bad news? Luckily, I was in the presence of the one person to whom I could voice my apprehension.