by Sarah Gilman
“Okay, bye.” She turned away to avoid watching him leave. Why hadn’t he said something earlier about having plans? He hadn’t acted rushed. Maybe he didn’t really believe all her nonsense, after all.
Her heart sank, but she forced aside the disappointment and focused. Kneeling at the side of the grave, she set the flowers she’d picked at the base of the stone and set a rock on the stems to keep them in place.
“What are you doing?” Shock filled Dutch’s voice. He rejoined her and knelt, his brow furrowed.
“A grave out here all by itself is too lonely. The least I can do is leave him some flowers.”
He stared at her. “That’s…very thoughtful of you.”
She glanced back at the gravestone. Let’s do this. She spoke the Latin words to bind the spirit: “Requiescat in pace, Derrick Hutchinson.”
Dutch choked and collapsed, panting against the ground. His body jerked.
“Dutch! What’s wrong?” She reached out, but he faded before her eyes and vanished.
…
“What the hell?” Jade sat, alone, next to the old grave marker. Dutch’s brown shirt lay in the dirt where he’d fallen. She picked it up and brushed the pine needles away.
Still warm.
She turned back to the slate memorial. Derrick Hutchinson.
D. Hutchinson.
Dutch. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Dutch is the spirit. She held her head in her hands. What was going on here? He could have stopped her at any point since she had arrived. He’d called her family in the first place, for goodness’ sake.
Did he want to be exorcised?
“I was right, wasn’t I? You played puppeteer with the furniture to clear the motel. What were you trying to do, set up the need for an exorcism? Why would you do that?”
Dutch didn’t answer, of course. She had paralyzed him and bound him to his grave beneath her feet. Acid shot up her throat. The preternatural bindings couldn’t be reversed with words; they were meant to be a one-way street to an exorcism. However, they weakened in time. Strong spirits had broken free in the past when the exorcism had been interrupted or delayed. She just had to wait.
He must have been wearing only the pants and boots when he died if they dematerialized with him. Where had he gotten the shirt? She lifted the soft cotton to her face and inhaled his scent: faint cologne mixed with the fresh air from their walk and the natural essence of his skin.
She imagined curling up at his side under a blanket, turning her face into his hair, and breathing him in. Only minutes before, she’d wanted a dinner date, perhaps a little more. How long had it been since she’d enjoyed a simple walk and conversation so much?
She sat on the ground and leaned against the tree behind the grave. She held the shirt in her lap. Their morning together ran through her mind, every smile, every brush of his hand in slow motion.
He’s a ghost. Jade shut her eyes and shook her head. She pulled a book from her bag and settled in to wait.
…
A rocking motion roused Jade from sleep. She’d fallen asleep? Groggy, she lifted her eyelids. Pitch blackness surrounded her, but so did warmth. “Dutch?”
He held her in his arms. Leaves crunched underfoot as he walked.
“Hello again.” His voice washed over her like a balm, but strain edged his tone. “I’m taking you back to your car.”
The brown shirt he’d worn earlier lay across her chest like a small blanket. Her head rested against his bare, warm chest and his heart beat steadily under her ear. She lifted a hand and pressed her fingers to the pulse point on his neck. “That’s unbelievable.”
“It’s an illusion,” he said, his voice toneless.
She lifted her face, trying to make out his expression in the dark. “You’re damned lucky you came back to question me about the flowers. If I hadn’t seen you disappear, I wouldn’t have realized—”
“I didn’t want you to know who I was. I called you here to perform an exorcism.”
“I was afraid of that.” She paused. “How did you make that call, anyway?”
“There’s a courtesy phone in the park office. I found out about your family in the first place while searching for exorcists on the computer on the desk. I haven’t had much to do over the years except watch people, so I know how to use modern technology for the most part. This was my first time in a car, though. Can’t say I enjoyed that very much.”
Dutch stepped onto the road, where moonlight glinted off her parked car. He set her on her feet. She held on to his shoulders and didn’t move away.
“We need to talk, but it’s late.” He lifted a hand to her arm. “You should go back and get warm.”
He vanished. His face inches from hers, gone. His hand on her arm, gone. A cold breeze kissed her skin. A second later, even though she stood alone by the car, a hint of warm air brushed her ear and cheek like a soft caress.
Dutch’s voice whispered, “Goodnight, Jade Clarence.”
“Dutch?” Jade stood by the car, still holding the brown shirt. Insects buzzed around her head. “Dutch, come back.”
And then his voice, gone.
“Fine, but you better come see me tomorrow. First thing.” She could summon him with an incantation and confront him now, but that’d cause him more pain. Observing Aaron during an exorcism one time, she’d witnessed a begging spirit describe being summoned as having a flaming noose around his neck. The poor creature had clawed at himself in a useless attempt to break free.
Chilled to her soul, she got in the car and headed back to the cabin. She showered and pulled a nightgown over her head. Her mind buzzed, churning over the day’s events, and her muscles were in knots. The clock chimed ten times, but how could she sleep when she was this tense?
She opened the long, black case that traveled everywhere with her and took out her viola, the scent of resin filling her nose. Her mind calmed the moment her fingers brushed the strings. Standing in the low light, she played from memory. Her musical hobby had kept her sane over the years, and the soothing activity didn’t disappoint this time, either.
She spent an hour in her own personal heaven, running her favorite solos one after another. The strings vibrated under her fingers and her chin.
Her heart rate slowed, her muscles relaxed, and her mind calmed. Tomorrow, she would figure this mess out.
The sharp ring of her phone interrupted the musical passage and her thoughts.
The screen on her phone displayed her little brother’s name.
“Hey, Jay,” Jeremy greeted her. “How’d it go? You didn’t call.”
“Sorry. It was…an unusual day.”
“Unusual?” Concern filled his voice. “What happened?”
She swallowed. “The spirit isn’t hostile.”
“Jay—”
“This is nothing like the barn spirit.”
Jeremy cursed. “But you didn’t perform the exorcism.”
“No.” She groaned internally. If only she could lie to her little brother. “I have to go. No one is in danger here and I’ll explain later. Bye.” She cut off his protest with the disconnect button.
Shit. Jeremy would have to tell Aaron. She muttered to herself, “This is not going to end well.”
Chapter Four
Dutch ached. He assumed his corporeal body to mask his presence and sat on the porch of Jade’s cabin, listening to the viola, trying to will the pain away.
He’d never felt sensation of any kind without his physical body prior to the invisible chains created by Jade’s words. Stuck underground in the hollow of his own grave, he’d forced himself not to struggle against the sensation of being beaten over every inch of his body. But the exorcism hadn’t come. Hours passed. When the searing pain ebbed, he’d fought and struggled until he’d broken free.
But discomfort lingered. He longed to head for the cold water of the river, but he remained outside Jade’s cabin, drawn to the rhythmic sounds of the viola. He’d grown up with music of this ki
nd and hadn’t heard the like in decades.
She played for an hour, but all too soon, the melodies silenced and the light from the window blinked out. He retreated to a section of the river far from the park guests and waded into the soothing water.
If only she’d finished the exorcism, all of this would be over. But of course she’d stayed her hand; or rather, her words. She’d seen through his “bad-spirit” charade, and she possessed too much heart to exorcise an innocent. Question was, did she have enough compassion to exorcise a spirit who asked it of her?
…
The morning sun warming his back, Dutch knelt at the base of a hollow tree and pulled out the suitcase a tourist had forgotten at the park years ago. Inside, he kept the items he’d gathered over the years from Hutchinson Park’s Lost and Found and from vacant campsites. It amazed him what people managed to forget. Trying his best to keep up with the times, he would toss items and replace them every decade or so. Today, the effort would finally pay off.
He changed into shoes, a pair of jeans, and a button-down shirt. Unsure of how much he needed, he pocketed all the money.
An hour’s walk brought him to the park entrance and the small market across the street, where he purchased two coffees and cinnamon scones. He made his way to Jade’s cabin and knocked, then called out, “Morning. I brought breakfast.”
Jade opened the door. She was dressed in jeans and a blue tank top. Her eyes narrowed. She folded her arms, glowering.
“Coffee?” He held out the tray that supported large paper cups. “Peace offering.”
After a pause, she blinked and took one. “Thank you.”
“There’re scones, too.” He set the paper bag on the porch table.
“You can eat?” She removed the plastic lid of her coffee, one delicate eyebrow arched.
He grinned. “You’re the ghost expert.”
“No one in my family has encountered a spirit like you in my lifetime.”
He settled in one of the weathered plastic chairs and sipped the hot, over-sweetened liquid. When you only bothered to eat once every few decades, why go light on the sugar? “I can eat, but I don’t have to. All I have to do is revert to my incorporeal state when hunger sets in.”
She took the chair opposite him and broke a scone into pieces. His attention followed as she brought a morsel to her lips.
“You play beautifully, by the way.” He forced his attention away from her mouth. Small calluses gave texture to the tips of her fingers on her left hand.
“You listened to me?” The words came out clipped.
He scratched his chin. “Ah, yeah. Sorry. I checked to make you sure you’d made it back okay, and then I couldn’t resist listening. You had me entranced.”
“You like that kind of music?”
“I lived in the late eighteen hundreds, and some habits never change. All this modern shit the park staff and visitors listen to is noise to me.”
“Mmm.” She studied her scone for a moment, her expression thoughtful. “So. You lied to me several times yesterday. Time to clear the air. The car trouble lie is obvious. You don’t have one.”
He nodded.
“I asked what happened the day the ghost died, other than the traumatic death itself. You said you didn’t know.” Challenge filled her gaze.
Long-buried pain clawed at him. He forced the memories down. “What happened doesn’t matter.”
“You tried to trick me into exorcising you.” Her voice hardened. “You owe me some answers.”
“I didn’t call you because of my death. I called you because of my afterlife.” He set the coffee aside. “I want an end to this, Jade. I’ve been here since 1890. ‘Lonely’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. I’ve made the best of this existence for decades, but it’s gone on too long. I’m asking you to help me.”
She leaned back in her chair and shook her head. “It’ll destroy you.”
“I’m aware.” He held her gaze. “Will you please think about it? I don’t need an answer right now. I admit, there is something else I feel compelled to do.”
“Such as?”
“Are you still willing to have dinner with me?”
“I should be too furious with you for deceiving me.”
“But you’re not?” He leaned forward.
“Oh, I am.” She folded her arms. “But considering you spent most of yesterday bound to your grave, I think we’re even.”
“Excellent.” He ran his fingertips over the back of her hand. “Because I meant it when I said I’d love to have dinner with you. Actually, I’m going to make you dinner.”
…
Jade registered with the park to stay another night, relieved no one else had claimed the cabin for the weekend. Intent on enjoying the stolen day, forgetting the stress of the last week and the hell to come when she had to deal with Aaron and Jeremy once again, she switched off her cell phone and met Dutch for a hike.
A steep trail led them up the mountain in the center of the park. At the top, a swinging bridge connected twin peaks, offering a view of forested foothills for miles in all directions. The bridge swayed and trembled underfoot, making Jade’s palms sweat. She clutched Dutch’s arm as they made their way to the halfway point.
“They say this is an extinct volcano.” Dutch pointed straight down. “The caldera. Well, what’s left of it after tens of thousands of years of erosion.” He paused, staring at her. “Do spirits erode on earth? Is that why so many become violent?”
Jade eyed the slopes with renewed respect, but a strong crosswind rocked the bridge, riveting her attention to the lack of ground beneath her feet. She tried to focus on the conversation instead. “I think that’s a good metaphor, yes. You’re different, though.”
“But why?”
“This place. It has to be this incredible place. It doesn’t just make you powerful, it keeps you alive.”
“Alive? No, Jade, I’m most definitely not alive.”
A chatty tourist couple with two daughters—one a scowling preteen, one a wide-eyed younger girl—crossed the bridge from the far side, making their way back toward the trail. The bridge shuddered and groaned under their progress as they passed.
“You’re hurting my arm.” Amusement filled Dutch’s tone. “Would you like to turn back?”
“Not yet.” She turned her face into his shoulder. The earthy scent of the woods clung to his shirt. Unlike the bridge, Dutch held her steady, an unyielding source of support.
He wrapped his free arm around her back and rested his chin on her head. The breeze—chilly at that altitude despite the warm day—put his warmth in stark relief. She took in the view in her peripheral vision. An eagle swooped down the lush valley, aimed at a distant lake. With Dutch at her side, she calmed enough to enjoy the beauty around them.
“I’m terrified of heights.”
“No kidding?”
She smacked his arm, no enthusiasm behind the strike. His chest shook with silent laughter and he tightened his hold. “Sorry. You face malevolent spirits for a living, yet here you are in my arms, afraid of a perfectly good bridge. Pardon me while I gloat.”
“Humph.” She hid her grin against his shoulder. “This view is incredible. Thank you. I wouldn’t be able to stand out here by myself.”
“Anytime,” he said quietly.
As they walked back toward the trail, leaning against each other, she studied his face. “Heights don’t bother you?”
“Naw. I was a logger. Not a job compatible with that sort of phobia. And I’m dead.”
“You fell.” Her curiosity forced the words from her mouth.
His lips thinned. “Yes. It was over in a few seconds and I didn’t feel a thing. There are far worse ways to go.”
“Why are you here, Dutch? What else happened?”
“Honestly?” Solid ground underfoot, he stopped walking and turned to face her. “You’re right, dying wasn’t the worst thing that happened to me that day. However, I don’t think I’m still here because
of that. The gorge…there is something about it. Another logger died on the job and became a ghost with a heartbeat, like me. For one day, that is. When they removed his body for burial in his hometown, he lost that ability. He eventually vanished altogether.”
“Interesting. There must be much more to this place than natural energies. Much more. Perhaps moving your grave is a solution, as opposed to being exorcised.” Her own words dried out her mouth. Even if he had a way to move on without an exorcism, she wished he wouldn’t move on at all. And how selfish was that?
“It might have been possible, decades ago. But I didn’t even have a coffin. I’m inseparable from the soil and the trees these days.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “Back then, I wanted this false life. It was a second chance. Incredible freedom. But, loneliness has a way of accumulating and compounding over the years.”
“Annabel!”
Jade turned toward the shout. The father from the tourist family who’d passed them on the bridge hurried along the path, shadowed by thick balsams.
The man stopped, panting, when he reached them. “Have you seen a little girl? She’s six.”
“No, sorry—”
The father took off again, headed for the visitor’s shelter near the bridge.
“Wait here. This’ll only take a moment.” Dutch stepped into the shadows of the trees and vanished, the strong energy of his incorporeal form washing over her skin like electric current. The scent of burnt sugar filled the air. His shirt landed in a heap on a rock.
His presence vanished like a gust of wind. Shivering, Jade leaned against a tree and rubbed her tense shoulders. The way a spirit could travel, he’d be able to locate the girl in moments. Hopefully, alive and unhurt.
The father came out of the shelter, shoulders slumped, face flushed. His voice hitched as he yelled, “Annabel!”
Dutch’s presence returned. Jade’s clairvoyant senses, guiding her like infallible intuition, drew her gaze to the panicked father and she knew Dutch stood at the man’s side.
Rubbing his eyes, he started back down the path, then stumbled as if he’d been pushed. He paused, staring into the woods to his left. He took a step and stumbled again. The spot didn’t stand out from what Jade could see, but the father ran into the trees. “Annabel?”