Haunted Tales

by Terri Reid

  “But we both had our purses in the child seat,” Kate said.

  “Oh, no,” Rosie breathed softly. “Well, maybe she didn’t see it. I was sort of standing in front of them.”

  Kate relaxed. “You’re right,” she said. “She probably never saw it. I guess I worry too much.”

  Rosie nodded. “Yes, you do,” she said. “Besides, I could tell that she believed every word I said.” She giggled. “I never knew I could be such an accomplished liar.”

  Mary stood in the adjacent aisle blatantly listening to their conversation and felt tears fill her eyes. She took a deep breath and angrily tossed a bag of candy into her cart. Well, if they don’t want to be my friends, fine, she thought as she whipped another bag into her cart, I don’t need them anyway.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Clarissa sat in her bed under her blankets with her arms wrapped around her knees. She knew she should have been sleeping, but she needed to talk to Mike.

  “Okay, sweetheart, I think it’s time for you to go to sleep,” he said, hovering near her bedroom door.

  “Can we talk for a minute?” she asked.

  He turned away from the door and moved next to her bed. “Sure, what’s up?”

  “I’m kind of worried about Halloween. I have to have a good ghost story,” she stalled, “or the rest of the O’Reillys will think I’m lame.”

  He shook his head and smiled down at her. “I don’t think they would ever consider you lame,” he said. “As a matter of fact, I have it on good authority that they think you are pretty awesome. But, I don’t think that’s why you wanted to talk to me, is it?”

  She paused for a moment, looking down at her blankets, and then turned her face up to Mike again. “I figured something out today. I feel safe,” she whispered. “Is that okay?”

  “Sure, sweetheart, it’s fine,” he said, perching on the edge of the bed. “Why wouldn’t you feel safe?”

  Shaking her head, she sighed. “No, I don’t mean it that way,” she said, pausing to try and find the right words. “I finally feel safe. I finally feel like I don’t have to worry anymore.”

  “Oh,” he said, nodding slowly. “That kind of safe.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Am I? Should I feel this way?”

  “So you’re worried that you’re not worried?” he teased, lifting an eyebrow over his left eye.

  She giggled. “Kind of,” she admitted.

  “Let me ask you,” he said. “What’s your favorite kind of dessert?”

  “Chocolate cake,” she responded immediately.

  “Very good choice,” he said. “Okay, if you were sitting at the kitchen table downstairs and I put a huge piece of chocolate cake in front of you, what would you do?”

  “Is this a trick question?” she asked.

  “No,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a regular question. What would you do?”

  “I’d eat it,” she said.

  “Would you enjoy it?”

  “Yes.”

  “But wouldn’t you be worried that every time you took a bite you got closer to not having any more cake?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No, that’s silly,” she said. “I have cake. Why worry about not having it.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “You feel safe. You are loved, and your life is wonderful. Why would you worry about something in the future that may or may not happen? Why not enjoy your cake?”

  She smiled up at him. “Are all guardian angels so smart?” she asked.

  He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “No, sweetie, just me,” he replied with a wink.

  She giggled and scooted down into her blankets. “I love you, Mike.”

  “I love you, too,” he said. “Now go to bed.”

  She rolled over on her side and closed her eyes. Soon she was sound asleep, and Mike watched her for a few more minutes before he faded away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Oh, good, you’re home,” Bradley said when Mary walked into the house thirty minutes later. “Do you need me to carry anything in from the car?”

  Mary put two bags filled with candy and her purse on the table near the door and then turned to Bradley. “I saw Kate and Rosie at the store,” she said, oblivious to his question.

  “Well, that’s nice,” he replied, coming over to her. “How are they doing?”

  “They were shopping,” she said, and then she added meaningfully, “together.”

  She opened one of the bags and pulled out a plastic package of miniature chocolate candy bars, ripped open the top and picked one from the selection. Tearing open the wrapper, she bit viciously into the small confection. “They tried to deny it,” she said, chewing ferociously. “But I could tell.”

  “Tell what?” Bradley asked, reaching over to grab of piece of candy for himself.

  She absently pulled the bag to her side, her eyes wide with indignation. “Didn’t you listen to what I said?” she asked. “They were shopping together.”

  She put her hand in, found another little candy victim, unwrapped it and bit it in half. “Together,” she repeated, nodding angrily. “Not alone. Not a coincidence. Both purses in the child seat. They were together.”

  Yeah, this is definitely one of those woman things, Bradley thought, backing away as he watched Mary’s sharp incisors decapitate yet another caramel-filled sweet. Better just play along.

  “Well, that was certainly, uh…” he paused, praying for a little insight.

  “Rude!” Mary finished for him. “Exactly. You are exactly right. That was just plain rude.”

  Thank you, God. Bradley sent up a quick prayer of silent thanks.

  He smiled, feeling a little confident and nodded. “Yeah, that was rude,” he said. “What the hell were they thinking? I mean really…”

  He stopped talking and looked at Mary. She had a half-eaten candy in her hand and was staring at him with narrowed eyes. “Do you even know what they did?” she asked.

  He felt his stomach twist. “They went shopping?” he said hesitantly.

  “And do you know why I’m upset?” she asked, taking another quick bite of the candy.

  “Because…” he said slowly, his palms sweating, “they should have…”

  “Called me,” she finished for him, waving her hand in the air. “Exactly. I mean, even you can understand that.”

  He wasn’t about to ask her what she meant by even you, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment.

  She stopped waving her hands, dropped the bag of candy on the floor and started to cry. “They don’t want to be my friends anymore,” she sobbed.

  He moved immediately, wrapping her in his arms and holding her. “Of course they do,” he said. “Who wouldn’t want to be your friend? You are amazing.”

  “But they went shopping without me,” she cried against his shoulder.

  “Maybe it was a last minute thing,” he said. “Maybe they saw that your car was gone and figured you had to work.”

  She looked up at him and sniffed. “Are you taking their side?” she asked.

  He pulled her back into his arms quickly. “No. No, of course not,” he said. “But they’ve both done so much for us; I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt.”

  She nodded slowly. “That’s true,” she said, her voice muffled in his shirt. “They really have done a lot. And maybe I’m making too much out of it. The doctor did warn me that my hormones might go crazy, and I might be experiencing bouts of emotional highs and lows.”

  “That’s true,” Bradley said softly.

  She pulled back and stared at him. “So, you think that I’m making this whole thing up?” she asked angrily. “That my two so-called best friends can go shopping with each other and not invite me. And this is all my hormones’ fault?”

  I’m dead, Bradley thought, just kill me right now.

  He looked down at his wife, her eyes red-rimmed and slightly swollen from crying, a little bit of chocolate and caramel on her lips and her hair sligh
tly mussed from his arms. She was the most beautiful thing in the world.

  Then he thought about Rosie and Kate. He knew they were shopping for Mary’s baby shower, knew that all of the secrecy was only because they loved her. He could end all of Mary’s misery by just telling her the truth, by telling her that her dear friends were going to surprise her in a few days, by telling her that she had nothing to worry about. He sighed. He would totally spoil the surprise they’d been working on for weeks.

  He thought about what they would want him to do, and realizing the truth, he slid his hands to Mary’s shoulders and looked down into her eyes.

  “Those witches,” he breathed and watched her face break into a radiant smile, like the sunshine after a rainstorm.

  “Thank you, Bradley,” she said with a soft shudder. “It’s so nice to have a husband who understands.”

  He pulled her back into his arms and exhaled with relief. Only three more months to go.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Good morning,” Clarissa said sleepily as she made her way down the stairs the next morning.

  “Morning, sweetheart,” Mary replied with a smile. “You look tired.”

  Rubbing her eyes, Clarissa nodded. “Uh-huh,” she mumbled as she climbed onto her chair next to the kitchen table. Then she yawned widely. “I am.”

  Mary filled a bowl with oatmeal, sprinkled raisins, dried cranberries and brown sugar on it and brought it over to the table. She set it down in front of her daughter and slipped into the chair next to her.

  “Is anything wrong?” she asked, placing her hand on Clarissa’s forehead to check for a fever.

  Clarissa reached across the table for the pitcher of milk and poured some over her cereal. She shook her head. “No, I stayed up late. Checking,” she yawned.

  “Checking for what?” Mary asked.

  Clarissa spooned a small portion of oatmeal into her mouth. “For ghosts,” she replied, her words garbled around the food. She swallowed and then looked up at Mary. “Did anyone ever die in this house?”

  Mary thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. “Sorry, no,” she said. “No one died here. It’s a peaceful house.” She paused for a moment. “Well, except when I have company.”

  “Maggie says that if you look sideways you can see ghosts,” she said, demonstrating the sideways look to Mary.

  Mary choked back a chuckle. “Well, actually, Maggie is right, sort of,” she replied.

  “Sort of?” Clarissa asked.

  “Well, scientists have studied our eyes, and they have found that the corners of our eyes are more sensitive to light and movement,” she explained. “So, often we can see paranormal things, like ghosts, in the corners of our eyes, but when we turn and view them with full vision, they might disappear.”

  “But they’re still there?” Clarissa asked.

  Mary shrugged and nodded. “They could be,” she said. “But looking for ghosts out of the corners of your eyes can cause some other troubles.”

  Clarissa sighed. “I know,” she said, absently rubbing her forehead. “Like walking into bookshelves.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “I had a ghost investigator from Chicago tell me that I should just try to be aware of my surroundings. Then, if I saw something out of the corner of my eye, I should try to keep watching it that way and not quickly turn towards it.”

  “Do ghosts want to be seen?” Clarissa asked.

  “Sometimes,” Mary said. “And sometimes not. I think when they have a problem or need help, they want to be seen. But sometimes they are just visiting some of the places that were special to them when they were alive, so they are just on a walk.”

  Clarissa giggled. “Hello, I’m just a ghost on a walk,” she teased, lowering her voice. “Please don’t look at me.”

  Mary laughed. “Exactly,” she said, and then she lowered her voice, too. “Hello, I’m a ghost on a walk. Can you tell me the way to the nearest boo-tique?”

  “Do you know where I can buy a halloweenie for lunch?” Clarissa added with a laugh.

  “Knock, knock,” Mary continued.

  “Who’s there?” Clarissa replied.

  “Boo.”

  “Boo who?” Clarissa answered, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

  “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you and make you cry,” Mary finished.

  Bradley exhaled with relief when he heard the laughter coming up the stairs to greet him. It was going to be a normal day in the Alden household. He stopped on the stairs and checked that thought. It was going to be as normal as possible.

  “Good morning my beautiful ladies,” he said as he came into the kitchen. “What’s up?”

  Clarissa hopped out of her chair, threw her arms around him and gave him a kiss. “Hello, I’m a ghost on a walk, and I have to get ready for school,” she announced, and then she ran up the stairs to her bedroom.

  So much for normal, Bradley thought.

  He turned to his wife. “Could you explain that?” he asked.

  “What?” she replied, looking completely befuddled.

  “Clarissa is a ghost on a walk, and she has to get ready for school,” he repeated.

  She stopped in the process of filling a bowl of oatmeal for Bradley and looked at the clock on the wall. “She’s right,” she replied. “It is time for her to get ready. Good for her.”

  Bradley took the offered bowl and shook his head. Okay, I’m going to try again.

  He sat down at the table and started pouring milk over his oatmeal. “Mary,” he began. “I’m a little worried about Clarissa’s eyesight. Last night she kept walking into things, but she said everything was fine.”

  Walking over to Bradley, Mary chuckled and bent over to kiss his cheek. “She is just adorable, isn’t she?” she asked with a grin and walked towards the stairs.

  “But, aren’t you worried?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No,” she replied hurriedly. “I told her no one died in this house, so it’s okay.”

  He watched her walk up the stairs, his face a study in confusion. Finally, he sighed, took a deep breath and stuck his spoon in his oatmeal. I give up.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mary sat back in her chair and stretched. Looking around her desk, she could see the remains of the morning’s snacks: string cheese wrappers, an empty yogurt carton, and, she wasn’t proud of it, a still half-filled snack-sized bag of Oreos. She’d been in the office for about an hour and a half, had finished her correspondence, and was now going to start doing some research on Kristen Banks. She typed her name into the search engine and paused. Nope. First I’m going to the bathroom, she decided, and then I’ll look for Miss Banks.

  A few minutes later, as she returned from the bathroom towards her desk, she was more than a little surprised to see Kristen Banks peering into her computer screen on her desk. “Hello?” Mary asked softly. “Were you looking for me?”

  Kristen turned, her face still blood-stained and battered, her expression one of confusion and interest. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the computer.

  “That’s my laptop,” Mary replied.

  “No,” Kristen said, slapping her hands to her thighs. “This is a laptop. That looks like a miniature television.”

  Mary smiled and walked back to her chair, slipping around Kristen and sitting down. “Actually, things have changed a little since you died,” she explained to the ghost. “Do you remember hearing about computers?”

  Kristen thought for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “The government used them for the space program, and some corporations use them.”

  “Well, this is one of them,” Mary said. “Actually, this one has more power than the ones that NASA used to run the Apollo mission.”

  Kristen looked at the small laptop and then back at Mary. “That can’t be true,” she said. “It’s so tiny.”

  “It’s amazing how technology has grown over the years,” she said. “I have a phone that can text, answer emails and search the inter
net.”

  Kristen stared at Mary. “I’m sorry, what?” she asked.

  Mary opened her mouth to explain but decided against it. “It does a lot of cool stuff,” she improvised. “But, let’s get back to you. I’m so glad you came to see me.”

  “I actually hadn’t planned to come,” Kristen admitted. “But I thought about what happened last night and ,poof, I ended up here. So, who are you?”

  “Well, I guess the best way to describe it is that I’m a private investigator who works with ghosts,” Mary said.

  “Like the Rockford Files?” Kristen asked.

  Mary quickly typed ‘Rockford Files’ in her search engine and saw the description of the 1970s private investigator show. “Yes, exactly,” she said. She looked at the photos. “And James Garner was a hunk.”

  Kristen smiled. “I always thought so,” she said. “So, what was that you did? Typing in the information?”

  “That’s called a search engine,” she said. “You can type in a name or a question and get information about it from all around the world.”

  “Does it find people? I mean real people, not just celebrities?” she asked, leaning closer.

  “It can,” Mary replied.

  “Could you find my fiancé? Danny, I mean Daniel Toba?” she said.

  “I can try,” Mary said, typing the name into the search engine and adding Polo, Illinois. She clicked enter, and the top result was a social networking page. “I think I found him.”

  She clicked on the page, and immediately a photo of a fairly portly, bald-headed man in his sixties showed up.

  “He’s old,” Kristen exclaimed, staring at the photo. “And he’s fat.”

  “Well, it been forty years since you last saw him,” Mary replied.

  “How could he let himself go like that?” she asked her face filled with disgust. Then she turned to Mary and, placing her hands on her hips, shook her head slowly. “It was probably the grief, wasn’t it? He came home and found out I was dead, and he just…he just went to hell.”