by Terri Reid
“But I had no idea Jerry was going to…” she began.
“Turn the article about you into some salacious, over-the-top, controversial, hyped-up report?” Bradley asked.
She sighed. “Yeah, I should have known better,” she said. Then she turned to Mike. “So, what do I do next?”
“Lay low for a couple of days,” Mike advised. “This should blow over in a week or so.”
He looked at Bradley for reassurance and Bradley shook his head. “Not in this town,” he said. “If she goes into hiding, it will only confirm the paper’s side of things. She needs to go out there, be seen and laugh it off.”
“But, I can’t really laugh it off,” she inserted. “Even though I didn’t say this, most of it is true.”
“The problem is,” Mike said, “it’s taken out of context. You can only make contact with spirits who want help. You’re not out there having séances to attract spirits to you. That’s the last thing you would be asked to do with your gift.”
Bradley turned from Mary and looked at Mike. “Why?” Bradley asked Mike.
“Why?” Mike repeated.
“Yeah, I always wondered why Mary didn’t just have things like séances or use tools like Ouija boards to contact spirits. Wouldn’t that be a faster way to do things?” he asked.
Mike started to speak when they heard Clarissa’s footsteps on the stairs. “Let’s talk after Clarissa leaves for school,” he suggested. “There are definitely some things you need to know about the unseen world around us.”
Chapter Nine
After reassuring Clarissa that they would both attend the Halloween party at the end of the month and confirming the kind of treats she wanted to pass out, Clarissa was finally ready to walk over to the Brennans’ and wait for the bus. Mary slipped on her jacket to walk her over.
“I’ll do it,” Bradley offered.
She shook her head. “No, you sit down with Mike,” she said, sending Mike a knowing look. “I’ll be back in a minute. I’ll let Mike fill you in.”
She and Clarissa left the house and Bradley turned to Mike. “So, tell me what I need to know.”
They settled in the living room, Bradley in the recliner and Mike perched on the edge of the coffee table. Mike was quiet for a few moments, contemplating what he was going to tell Bradley and how he was going to say it. Finally he took a deep breath and met Bradley’s eyes. “Okay, I think this is weird coming from me,” he said. “Especially me, because a year or so ago—well, let’s just say I’ve got a totally different perspective now.”
“Yeah, a lot has changed for you,” Bradley agreed. “You went from a firefighter…” He paused, not sure how to go on.
“You can say it,” Mike said with a smile, “to a dead guy, to a ghost and now a guardian angel. Yeah, you could say things have been a little crazy. But now that I’m here, on the other side, I can see things that you and Mary can’t see.”
“But Mary can see ghosts,” Bradley said. “What else is out there?”
Mike stood up and walked to the front window, glancing outside, then turned back to Bradley. “Mary can see some of the ghosts,” he said. “The ghosts who want help, the ghosts who need help passing over. But, there are some other…” He paused as he searched for the word, “spirits, who have nothing to do with what Mary is trying to accomplish.”
“Spirits?” Bradley asked. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know that much about them myself,” he said. “Maybe I skipped that class in Sunday School, but they are dark entities. It’s like they were never human, always spirits. And they aren’t too fond of the human race.”
“What? Like demons?” Bradley asked.
Mike nodded. “Well, yeah, something like that,” he said. “They want to discourage us, want to pull us down.”
Bradley looked nervously around the room. “Where are they?” he asked.
“That’s the thing,” Mike said, coming back across the room. “They are here, all around us. They are outside, sometimes they’re inside. They are waiting for an opportunity to convince us to turn away from what’s right.”
“How do you know about this?” Bradley asked.
Mike took a deep breath and met Bradley’s eyes. “I can see them,” he said. “And let me tell you, it’s pretty scary when you realize what’s out there. It’s like an army.”
“An army of evil spirits?” Bradley asked. “So, how do we fight them?”
“That’s the thing,” Mike said. “Unless we open ourselves to them, they have no power against us. They can’t force us to do anything we don’t want to do. But, once we open the door, they’re in.”
“Séances and Ouija boards,” Bradley said slowly. “That’s why you don’t like them because they open a door.”
“And you don’t know who is going to walk in from the other side,” Mike said. “It could be perfectly harmless or…”
“Yeah, or,” Bradley repeated. “Are there a lot of them?”
Mike nodded. “Like I said, an army,” he replied. “And the more potential you have to bless someone else’s life, the more operatives they have trying to pull you down.”
Bradley stood up, walked across the room to where Mike had stood and looked out to see Mary chatting with the Brennan children. She was laughing at their jokes and her face was glowing with love. Something tightened in his gut as he thought about what Mike had just told him. “So, these evil spirits,” Bradley said. “They wouldn’t be happy with what Mary’s doing, would they?”
“You mean the whole helping confused spirits make it to the light to receive their eternal reward? Yeah, no they’re not too happy about that,” he said. “But Mary’s smart. She doesn’t put herself in those kinds of situations. That’s why she generally waits for the spirits to come to her and ask for help.”
“I had no idea,” Bradley replied, still watching Mary.
“Yeah, well, it’s not something we generally dwell on,” Mike said. “We focus on the positive energies, not the negative ones. The less we think about them, the less power they have.”
Bradley turned away from the window and faced Mike. “Is it weird?” he asked. “You know, being able to see so much?”
Mike nodded. “Yeah, it is pretty weird,” he admitted. “I never realized how much of a war between good and evil this world really is. But, hey, we got the big guns on our side.”
“And He, the big guns,” Bradley glanced up to the ceiling, “he’s looking out for Mary?”
Smiling softly, Mike nodded. “Oh, yeah. He has a special place in His heart for her,” he said.
Bradley glanced back at the window and saw Mary walking back to the house as the bus pulled away from the curb. “Thanks. That’s good to know.”
Chapter Ten
“So, you’re a celebrity now,” Rosie said as she entered Mary’s office later that morning with a copy of the paper in her hand.
Mary groaned and buried her head in her arms on top of her desk. “Don’t remind me,” she moaned. “I can’t tell you how many calls I’ve had this morning from people who either want to hire me to find some long-lost trinket in their home or want to chastise me for being a spawn of Satan.” She looked up and shook her head. “Really? A spawn of Satan?”
“Who’s calling you that?” Stanley demanded, coming up to her desk. “Just hand me their phone numbers and I’ll call ‘em and give ‘em what-for.”
Chuckling softly, Mary shook her head. “Thanks Stanley, but you don’t need to do that,” she said. “I just wish I had thought it through before I agreed to the article. But at least now I have another option for a Halloween costume.” She looked over to Rosie. “Did you happen to notice if there were any spawn of Satan costumes at the Halloween store?”
Rosie smiled and shook her head. “Well, if there weren’t there ought to be. But if not, we can go online and I’m sure we’ll find one there.”
The phone rang; Mary rolled her eyes and picked it up. “O’Reilly Investigative Agency,” she sa
id and then listened to the caller. Finally, she took a deep breath and responded, “Well, I’m sure it’s been very painful. And I believe you when you say there has never been anyone like him in your life. I totally understand. But, the way my gift works is that ghosts generally come to me when they’re looking for some kind of resolution in their life. I don’t go searching for them. But, if your Frank is ever sent in my direction, I will be sure to call you immediately.” She paused again. “Yes, of course, no problem. Thank you for calling.”
She hung up the phone and took a deep breath.
“Her husband?” Stanley asked.
“Her son?” Rosie asked.
Mary shook her head. “No. Her dog,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “He was a very bright poodle and she knows that he would have left her a parting message after he passed away last year.”
“Her poodle?” Stanley asked.
Mary nodded.
“Don’t she know dogs ain’t got no unfinished business?” he asked. “They are pretty much what you see is what you get.”
“Well, sometimes people miss their loved ones, pets included, so much that they want one more chance to talk with them,” Mary said. “It’s loneliness and sorrow talking.”
“I can understand that,” Rosie said. “And it’s kind of you to be so nice to her, Mary. I think I would have lost my patience by now.”
The door behind them opened and they all looked over to see a tall, well-dressed businessman enter the office. Stanley and Rosie moved to one side and nodded to the man. But he ignored them and moved quickly to Mary’s desk. “You’re the one, right, the one from the article?” he asked abruptly.
Mary pushed herself up to stand and nodded. “Yes, I’m Mary O’Reilly,” she replied. Her immediately reaction to the man was mistrust. There was something about him that made her skin crawl, and she fought a strong impulse to move away from him. “Is there something I can do for you?”
Reaching into his overcoat, he pulled out a leather-bound checkbook. “I want to pay you,” he said, slapping the checkbook on the desk and pulling out a gold-plated ink pen, “to verify that my house in Pearl City is haunted.”
“Verify?” Mary asked.
He nodded, his focus on the check he was writing. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he said. “Not only will you be paid well for it, but the publicity you receive will send your career soaring and you will be in demand throughout the country.”
Mary shook her head, but he didn’t notice. “I’m sorry,” she said firmly. “But I’m not interested.”
Abruptly looking up, he stared at Mary with an unbelieving look. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“I said I’m not interested,” Mary repeated, trying to keep a polite façade of friendliness on her face when all she really wanted to do was escort him out of her office. “I’m not in the ghost verifying business.”
Misunderstanding, he shook his head. “Oh, that’s no problem,” he said, a look of relief on his face. “I can tell you what to do. What papers you have to fill out. Where to send the press releases. I’m an expert on paranormal activity.”
She nodded slowly. “If you’re an expert, why do you need me?” she asked.
“Well, my house is one of the top ten haunted houses in the country,” he said. “And I always strive to provide valid, professional and impartial sources to verify its authenticity.”
“Impartial sources that you pay?” she asked, her eyebrow lifting in skepticism.
“I only pay to cover expenses,” he said, ripping the check from the book and handing it to her.
Mary shook her head and refused to take it. “No, really, I’m sorry,” she replied again, “but I’m not interested in verifying that your house is haunted. That’s not what I do.” She raised her hand to stop his response. “It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s that I won’t do it. My gift is for helping ghosts move from this plane to the next. It’s not to…“ she paused trying to find the right word, “use the ones who are still here.”
“But my ghosts don’t want to move on,” he argued. “They want to stay at my house. They want to protect the house. They want to keep other people out. That’s why the people who stay with me experience so much paranormal activity. Because the ghosts are trying to scare them away.”
“Well, with so much activity, I’m sure you have plenty of verification without me,” Mary responded. “Thank you for stopping by.”
The man’s face turned red and his eyes hardened. “Do you think you’re better than me?” he demanded.
Taken by surprise, Mary stepped back from her desk and studied the man. “No. No, I don’t think I’m better than anyone,” she said. “Mr.—?”
“Atkinson. Sol Atkinson,” he said, dropping the check on her desk. “Then you think it over, because I don’t take no as an answer. I’ll get back to you later in the week for your reply.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he turned on his heel and strode out of the office, the door banging shut behind him.
“What an utterly unpleasant man,” Rosie said, moving back to the desk and lifting up the check. “Mary, this man just wrote you a check for five thousand dollars!”
Stanley looked over Rosie’s shoulder at the check and rolled back on his heels. “Must want something pretty badly iffen he’s willing to pay that much money just for a verification,” Stanley said. “Worth doing a little investigation of Mr. Atkinson.”
Nodding, Mary lowered herself to her chair. “I’d be happy to hear anything you learn about Mr. Atkinson,” Mary said. “But I’ve already decided that I want nothing to do with that man. He really gives me the creeps.”
“Perhaps Bradley ought to be here when he comes by to pick up his check,” Rosie suggested.
Mary silently bristled slightly at Rosie’s suggestion. Just because she was pregnant was no reason for her not to be able to handle some loud-mouthed bully. She didn’t need Bradley’s help to run her own business.
But she smiled at Rosie when she replied. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind,” she said. “But I’m sure Mr. Atkinson is more bark than bite.”
Chapter Eleven
Mary snuggled against Bradley and allowed herself to relax, concentrating on breathing slowly and evenly. Their bedroom was dimly lit and she could feel sleep beginning to overtake her. She started thinking about the nightmare, picturing herself there and reminding herself that she was in charge, she was in control. This was the fourth night she had tried lucid dreaming. After taking Gracie’s advice and not overthinking, she seemed to be able to gain a little more control. Every night it seemed that she was getting closer to a break-through, but she never seemed to quite get full control of her dream as Gracie had advised her.
“I need to do this,” she whispered.
Bradley leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Why don’t you try to relax this time,” he suggested. “Just take a walk through your dream like it’s a movie. You’ve been there before, and now you know you don’t have anything to be afraid of.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. No pressure,” she said. “Okay, just a walk.”
She closed her eyes, breathed in the lavender on her pillow and let her mind drift. “Take a walk,” she whispered. “Just take a walk.”
The room was dark, and Mary was back in the middle of her nightmare. She moved forward tentatively, trying to find an exit door or a light. She didn’t feel afraid. “I’m in charge. I’m in control,” she repeated to herself as she investigated her surroundings.
A low sound, like the thrum of a bass note, was pulsing in the background over some hidden speaker system. She remembered that sound and realized it made her anxious. “I don’t like that sound,” she said. “Let’s change the channel to soft rock.”
Suddenly the thrumming stopped and soft music floated throughout the house. “Cool,” she said with a smile.
Continuing forward, she heard the sound she’d been waiting for, soft and whispe
red in the distance, the sound of a child’s cry.
Dismissing caution, she hurried forward towards the source of the sound. Running down dark corridors that turned and twisted, she became even more frustrated. “I really need the lights to be turned on,” she said aloud. Suddenly, the dark halls were filled with light.
She looked around. The house was more like a dormitory with a number of small doors opening up to the long hallway. There were religious plaques and pictures on the walls. But at the end of the hallway, the window was encased with metal bars.
She found herself at the staircase and jogged down the stairs, listening for the cry. Finally, she arrived at the door at the far end of a narrow hall. Light flooded out from beneath the door and around the sides into the dark hallway.
She grasped the doorknob, but the door itself seemed to be shrinking. “Stop shrinking,” she commanded the door, and it obeyed. “Unlock the door.”
The door opened up and Mary stepped through. In the corner of the room was a young woman dressed in a black dress with a white apron over it. Her eyes were filled with tears and she turned to Mary with a look of desperation.
“They’re taking my baby,” she cried. “They’re taking my baby and they didn’t even let me say goodbye.”
Mary looked ahead and saw women dressed in long, black dresses carrying a swaddle of blankets and hurrying from the room. “Stop,” she called out. “Stop this instant.”
But the women didn’t stop; they carried the infant away into the shadows.
“They took my baby, and I never saw her again,” the woman sobbed.
“What’s your name?” Mary asked, finally understanding what was happening.
“Alison,” the woman replied. “Alison Grandee.”
“And when did you die, Alison?” Mary asked.
The woman paused for a moment, considering Mary’s question. Then suddenly, she began to change. The young woman aged rapidly before Mary’s eyes, and in a matter of moments, an elderly woman with white hair looked at Mary. “January,” she replied. “At the age of seventy-seven. I never found her. I never got to find out if she was okay. I never got to tell her I loved her and I never forgot about her.”