"Thus Althea's arrival here."
I'm not seeing Althea. Maybe she's in these memories though. I don't know yet.
"Phillip's son John commanded the large property." Aching stabs pound over my left eye and I'm starting to pick up a musty stale odor. "Are you getting that?"
"What?" Celia asks.
"That fresh-from-the-boys'-locker-room smell?"
"Thank heavens, no!"
"There's more to this house, Celia, than just bricks and mortar. Something is rotting here. Something that needs to be cleansed—set free."
"As you see," she says. "The historical society only uses a few rooms here. Everything else is pretty much in the condition they got the house in."
"I'm sensing more secrets here than anyone could possibly understand." I drop my hands to my lap in frustration as my psychic headache intensifies. The images are becoming more transparent and it's harder to grasp them. "I wish Patrick were here. We could combine our energies and really see past the dirty panes of history."
Celia bounces in place. "Then y'all could do that mind-meld thing you were telling me about."
"Something like that," I say with a smile.
We walk back out to the great room, where I pick up the scent of roaring fires long gone. This room was once filled with partygoers, food, festivities, music, and many slaves to wait on the wealthy. It now houses books and periodicals from another time, paintings of former residents of the house, and antique furniture that would probably fetch a pretty penny at the Saturday flea market in downtown Radisson.
I glance up at the ceiling. "Celia, something deep inside tells me that the Farnsworths harbored a dark secret. Way darker than we could ever imagine. Darker than the people of Radisson at the time could realize. There's something that's blocking my ability to see any deeper though. I definitely need Patrick for this. Can you get the team in here for one of our in-depth, full-fledged wired-for-sound ghost hunts?"
Celia places her thumb and forefinger on her chin and rubs. "I'll have to talk to Pfeiffer again. Couch it in terms of investigating the building, you know, for school."
I wait patiently while she goes to find him. The whispers of voices from the past circle me but refuse to speak clearly. They know who and what I am. Something's keeping them at arm's length, though.
"It's okay ... I'm here to help," I say out loud.
Silence. Only the chirping of the robins outside in the trees.
Celia comes padding back into the room, out of breath. "Okay, he's not happy, but he said he'll talk to the board and get permission. He said he'll remind them of Mega-Mart's recent donation when they make their decision. I can confidentially say that we're in."
I glance about one more time. No more whispers. But the lost souls are there. And I'll help them.
I'll be back, I say to the spirits.
"Yep ... something is definitely up here."
Chapter Seven
PATRICK FLINGS HIMSELF back on the couch in my den Saturday morning and runs his hands through his thick hair. "Kendall, you can't suspect everything of being paranormal."
"But it surrounds me. Everywhere I go. Everything I do. I can't get away from it."
He pats the cushion. "Just relax and enjoy the rest of the weekend with me. Just ignore it the best you can."
I grab my phone from my purse and dial. "Oh, yeah? Well, listen to this."
"You have one new message. Message received at two forty-four P.M. 'Umm, yes, Miss Ghost Huntress, this is James Pendergrass calling again. I'm the one with the haunted sandwich. I really need to know what to do. The sandwich walked out of the house yesterday and into the garage, where it stole my car. I reported it to the police, but they laughed at me. My number is—'" I stop the message.
"Are you kidding me?" I ask, the BlackBerry flat in my palm. "Of course the police laughed at him."
"The guy is obviously insane," Patrick says. "That's not paranormal; that's abnormal."
"Well, yeah ... but what if he's not abnormal? What if he's for real? What if his ham sandwich truly is haunted?"
"Did he say it was a ham sandwich?" he asks. "Not turkey or bologna?"
"I think so. I don't remember if he specified whether—"
He continues. "Because I would need to know if there was cheese involved and what condiments might have set off the spirit world. You know, are they against spicy mustard but not yellow mustard, or do they prefer Monterey jack to, say, Swiss?"
I smack him hard on his muscled biceps as he laughs like a hyena. "Who cares what kind of frickin' sandwich it was? This loony tune is calling me on a regular basis, I'm having nightmares about that megacreepy doll, and that house down the street was talking to me. A house, Patrick."
He tugs me over to the couch, where he cuddles me next to him. "It's in our makeup to question things we're sensing. I understand. I just don't want all of our weekends together to be spent doing nothing but paranormal things, you know?"
"We went out for pizza last night," I say.
He rolls his brown eyes. "With your ghost-huntress friends."
"And we went back to Father Mass's and watched a movie."
Patrick frowns at me. "Yeah, you Redboxed Paranormal Activity."
I'm starting to see a pattern here, one I also fell into with Jason and that he didn't appreciate either. Maybe I should listen this time. Patrick is right. I rest my head on his shoulder, and his fingers find their way into my hair, stroking through the long strands. I love when he plays with my hair because it makes me feel treasured. My hand runs over his T-shirted chest; he's wearing a brown one with funky guitar designs all over it. I move my finger around the outline of the one closest to me. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a boring date."
He sits up. "You're not at all, Kendall. I love being with you. And I know we're both psychic, and dealing with spirits and other entities is just part of our lives. I don't have a problem with it. I just think we both need a break. Like, you know, our parents work during the week and relax on the weekends. Maybe we should look at our paranormal activity in the same way."
"The weekend is the only time I have to spend on my ghost hunting." He frowns a bit. So I add, "And with you."
His face twitches into a half smile. I can tell he's got an idea. "We need to do something unique, fun, and not at all related to ghosts, the paranormal, or anything like that."
"What do you have in mind, Mr. Lynn?"
Patrick leans into me, moves my hair off my neck, and gives me a little nibble behind my ear. Chill bumps break out on both of my arms and I feel like I'm going to burst into a thousand pieces and float up to join the stars in their twinkling activities.
Muffled in my hair he says, "I was thinking..." His lips move to my earlobe.
"Yes?"
"...of doing something outrageously fun."
I tense up a little bit, thinking he might be talking about doing that. I'm totally in deep with this guy, but I don't think I'm ready to take that step yet. Certainly Patrick wouldn't expect me to do that here at my house. Or worse, at Father Mass's rectory. Right! Like that's going to happen.
Patrick bolts up and his chocolate eyes darken. "Kendall Moorehead! You nasty little thing, you."
"What?"
"I wasn't suggesting we hook up."
OMG! I totally forgot for a sec that he can hear my thoughts when we're this close.
Fire engulfs my face as I am mondo-embarrassed.
He hugs me back to him and laughs. "You're adorable when you get all red like that."
"Stop!" I say, ashamed of myself. I want the earth to swallow me whole. He tickles me, though, and I giggle something fierce. "Patrick!"
Patrick stops, sits up, and pushes his shaggy hair out of his face. "The outrageous thing I had in mind was to take you away from Radisson for a day at the beach."
"The beach?"
"You heard right."
I know I'm looking at him like he's insane in the membrane. "Dude, we live in the middle of the state. The beac
h is like five hours away." I motion outside through the curtain. "Besides, it's April and it's in the fifties and raining big old chunky droplets that are pounding like tribal drums on Mom's elephant ears on the side of the house."
"O she of little faith," he says as he gets us both up off the couch. "Go upstairs and find your swimsuit. And trust me."
He stoops low and lays a warm kiss on my waiting lips.
A dazzling smile and a twinkle in those Hershey Eyes of his and I'm a goner.
"Okay, whatever you say..."
"All right. This is the coolest place ever," I say with a huge grin.
Patrick plops a kiss on my shoulder. "Told you to trust me."
"I will from now on. Promise."
Because he and his dad live in Gwinnett County, we can use the indoor water park and aquatic center here in Bethesda Park as residents. Even on a rainy day like today, where the droplets on the top of the car sound like applause, we can enjoy the fun of splashing around in the water like it's spring break again. It's like a beach and a water park all rolled together.
This place is insane! According to the information at the check-in counter, it's over thirty thousand square feet of indoor water fun with a gigamonic leisure pool, a hundred-foot slide that exits and then reenters the building, a river channel, tumble buckets, a vortex, and ceiling spray. I am all over this place. Let me in—woot!
"I lurve it! How did you find this?"
"A guy at school told me about it. He's on the swim team and uses the lap pool a lot for practice. I've come a few times to get my sea legs back."
Patrick had a near-death experience in Barbados way before I met him; it resulted in his blooming psychic awareness when he came to. Because of his being all freaked out about things, he decided to stay out of the water. That is, until he saved my life when I was bodyboarding in California and got dunked all the way to the bottom of the ocean.
I take his face in my hand and turn him toward me. "I'm so happy you're getting back in the water. Do you think you'll start doing SCUBA again?"
"Don't rush me," he says.
"You'll know when the time is right."
"I'm trying, Kendall." He pays the modest fee at the counter for a resident (plus guest) and then walks me over to the glass wall so I can look in. "It's mostly for families with little kids, but hey, we're still kids, right?"
"Damn skippy!"
I wrap my arms around his waist and bear-hug him. "You're the best, Patrick."
He moves back and smacks me with the corner of his beach towel. "Let's get going, missy."
I'm so happy right now I can't even describe it. I'm not thinking about any of that you-know-what stuff. I'm focusing only on having an awesome-filled time with my new boyfriend, Patrick.
He gives a squeeze to my hand as we part ways to head into our respective locker rooms. Once inside, I stash my purse, clothes, and shoes in a secure locker. I check my tankini—not bad—in the mirror before stepping out into the main area. I'm not even going to worry about my hair, just put it up in a messy bun.
A wolf whistle cuts through the air as I emerge from the ladies' and into the warm pool area in my black-and-white flowered top and black bottoms. I put my cell phone underneath Patrick's towel on the bench and do a fake curtsy before trotting over to where Patrick is standing. He's all tan and muscly in his baggy blue Hawaiian-print trunks. His tattoo, Boo, is prominent on his left shoulder, and I slide up to him, pressing my left shoulder against his so our matching tats can "kiss."
"You're so silly," he says. "That's what I love the most about you."
I freeze in my tracks. Wh-wh-what? Did Patrick Lynn just say he loves me? Oh. My. God. I can't believe it. So soon? Is it too soon? Or not? What do I do? What do I say?
Say you love me too.
Damn these shared thoughts. Or maybe not. With us, there's no games. No BS. There's none of that typical what-does-he-think-about-me garbage most normal teens go through. I don't need my best friend to question his best friend to get me answers on how he feels about me. He knows. I know. We know.
I love you too.
Somehow it's easier because we're saying it in our heads and not actually out loud. The time will come for the real words.
He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the beach entry area. "Come on. Let's play!"
At first the water is chilly on my bare feet, then it feels just right, like it's been heated to the perfect temperature. To our left is a water jungle gym with ropes and slides, steps, ladders, and waterspouts.
"I think this was designed for toddlers," Patrick says, tugging me up the stairs with him.
Giggling, I say, "We were once toddlers." Then I dodge the spray of water from the nearby cannon and slip into the spiral slide, which seconds later lands me in the shallow water below.
"Come on, Kendall!"
I shove my soaked hair out of my face and crawl behind Patrick, who's ducked under the water and is heading to the towering poles with buckets on them.
When he surfaces, he pulls himself up on the ledge under the buckets.
"What's going to happen?" I ask. Then I immediately figure it out. Water pours into the buckets and then—kerrrrrrsplash— down on us. "Oh my God!" Hence the name tumble buckets. Durr! I scream as Patrick cackles. Both of us are totally soaked and I know I look like a drowned alley cat.
"You look adorable," he says, sweeping his arm around my waist and tugging me into his chest.
"We could probably go a whole day without ever saying an actual word to each other, you know?" I say over my shoulder.
"What fun would that be?" Then he kisses me on my cheek and snuggles a little in the water before—kerrrrrrrrrsplash—we get zonked on the heads a second time.
Not wanting to get beat down again, I swim under the water next to Patrick. He's so strong and swift cutting through the pool. I'm so glad he's gotten over his fear and is doing what he loves best. Right before we surface, he reaches over for my hand and smiles at me. A goofy, bubble-filled grin.
We come up inside a circle of water falling from the ceiling.
"Simulated rainforest?" I ask.
"Something like that."
Like we're eleven years old again, we spin around in the small circle inside the simulated rain, splashing each other like there's no tomorrow. A yelp leaves my throat before I even realize how kiddish I'm acting. But it feels amazing. The tingling in my limbs isn't from anything psychic or paranormal. There's no spirit talking to me that I know of, and even if there were, this is my time. I'm enjoying life with my boyfriend. At a freakin' indoor water park. Whoever invented this place is totally my new best friend.
Patrick flips to his back and begins stroking away from me. "You have to check this out. Follow me."
I happily do as I'm told, kicking my feet hard in the water and almost knocking a pink noodle out of a little kid's hand. "Sorry!" I call out, although he still gives me a dirty look.
We swim toward the river channel that curves around and around. Patrick takes my arms and pulls me up onto his broad shoulders, almost as though I'm riding piggyback in the water. Strong jets under the stream keep the current swirling in a river formation, so we just—literally—go with the flow.
"Are you having fun?" Patrick asks as we float along.
"Ummm, yeah. Duh!"
"I had to ask," he says.
A sheet of water falls near us from nearby pipes, but Patrick steers us away and around the next bend. I cling to his neck and hold on, not even having to kick or anything for movement. I'm so amazingly relaxed right now that it's not even funny.
"You were right. I needed something like this."
I see his dark head nodding in the affirmative.
We circle back to the mouth of the river, and Patrick points to the left. "Head to the vortex."
Now from what I've learned in science class, a vortex isn't something one necessarily wants to head into. But I follow my boyfriend with great trust.
"Wheeeeee!"
; We're zipped into a swirling whirlpool circling clockwise (or counterclockwise, depending on which way you look at it) and just go around and around and around. Patrick hoists me up a little farther on his back and we swing around together through the crystal blue water. I hold his neck and shout like a little girl who has her favorite ice cream sundae presented to her. Everyone here is laughing. Shouting, screaming, playing, and enjoying the thrill of being in the pool on such an icky spring day.
"This was the best idea evah," I say with a laugh as we keep going in circles.
"You're not getting dizzy?" he asks.
"Nope. I could stay in the vortex all day."
Patrick reaches forward for two abandoned swim noodles. "Here, try these." He has me lie on my back, and then he bends the pink one under my armpits and the blue one under my knees. "Voilà! Instant floating chair."
I beam at him. "You're a genius."
I haven't been on many dates other than with Jason, but this is the most incredible one of all. Fate totally brought Patrick and me together. We're the same. We understand each other. We're meant to be.
I can't believe it ... I'm in love again.
And I'm not letting this one get away.
Chapter Eight
WE SPIN A BIT MORE IN THE CURRENT, and I glance up and see a line forming at the base of a red staircase that leads up to the ceiling. "Is that the water slide?" I ask, craning my neck to get a good look.
"Yeah, it is. You'll love it," he tells me. "It exits outside and then reenters the building."
I shove the noodles aside and stand up. "We've got to do that. Like right now," I state, my eyes so wide, I know I must appear as eager as a kid on Christmas morning.
Ghost Huntress 5 - The Discovery Page 6