“She drowned herself,” said Marsha, her voice shaking with emotion. “She killed the baby, and then she drowned herself in the pond.”
Vi looked startled. “Yes, dear, but how did you know?”
“Because she tried to drown me. She took me over like a… like a puppet and forced me into the pond.”
“When did this happen?”
“This morning.” Marsha nodded toward Derek. “He saved me.”
“Oh, my darling.” Vi grabbed Marsha’s hand and held it in both of hers. “If I had known you were in such danger… but I had no idea. You have to believe me.”
“They’ve never been violent like this before?” asked Chris.
She shook her head. “No, never. I simply don’t understand it. Why would they do this to my sweet Marsha?”
“Because of Cassidy,” she said.
“But that… what happened to your Cassidy was a senseless tragedy, but it was hardly the same thing.”
“No,” Chris agreed. “But that didn’t stop Marsha from carrying guilt over her loss all these years. We think the spirits of your mother and brother could sense that guilt, and that’s what triggered them.”
Vi looked devastated by the news. Marsha patted her hands. “It’s okay, Granny. You couldn’t have known.”
“Well,” she said. “I suppose you won’t be wanting to stay in this house. It’s yours to sell, of course. You and your new husband can use the proceeds to get a home that’s more… peaceful.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” said Chris. “Your mother might be confined to the house and its grounds, but your brother’s not. He’s been following Marsha, attacking her wherever she goes.”
“But… but he was only a baby—”
“His spirit’s not. It’s old, and feral, and angry. And it keeps taking all of that anger out on Marsha.”
Vi pulled her hands away from Marsha. She placed her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. Once she’d composed herself, she leveled her gaze at Chris. “Well, then. How do we stop him?”
“I was kind of hoping you could tell us that.”
“Short of performing an exorcism?” Vi shook her head, clearly at a loss. “Would that harm him? What will happen to him, to his spirit?”
“I don’t know. But Marsha’s safety is the priority.”
Vi closed her eyes and sighed. “Of course it is.” She opened her eyes again and nodded to Marsha. “We’ll do whatever is necessary to stop this.”
“Whatever that may be,” said Drew. He rubbed his face wearily. “Look, we’re all exhausted. We’ve been through a lot today. The… spirits,” he said, waving his hand and looking uncomfortable with the entire concept, “seem to have calmed down for the time being. So I say we take advantage of that fact and stick with Plan A.”
“Plan A?” asked Derek. “What was that again?”
“We all get some rest. Let’s get out of here. We’ve got new information now. So we can figure out a real plan and come back tomorrow.”
Derek looked at Chris. “That doesn’t sound like the worst idea.”
Chris couldn’t argue with her dad’s reasoning. She was as tired as the rest of them, and Vi’s presence seemed to have a calming effect on Ezekiel’s spirit. Maybe, if they all stayed together, they could actually all get some sleep and come at this fresh. She opened her mouth to say so, but Marsha cut her off.
“No.”
Drew looked at her, clearly surprised. “Honey, come on. You need rest more than any of us.”
“What I need is for this to be over. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
Chris felt a nudge against her shoulder and looked up to see her sister. “Can I talk to you?” she asked.
“What is it?”
Ron jerked her head toward the other end of the kitchen and headed that way. Frowning, Chris got up and followed. When they reached the other side, Ron glanced back at the group and, keeping her voice low, said, “I think I have an idea.”
“Okay, but why are you whispering? None of them can hear you.”
“What about Vi? She said she’s sensitive. She could sense Joe and I were here.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think that means she can actually hear you.”
“Well, whatever.” She waved a hand as if none of it mattered and continued in her normal voice. “I think your theory is only half right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think this is more about helping Rowena than Ezekiel.”
“Rowena? Who—”
“Vi’s mother. She was adamant that I witness everything she did, and she wanted me to know what drove her to do it.”
“Didn’t you say she tried to drown you?”
“I’m not saying she’s rational. But I don’t get the sense that she’s evil. I think she’s sorry, and she wants us all to know it.”
“She’s sure got a funny way of showing it.”
“Yeah, well, she was already in a bad place when she died, and I think seventy years of being in that state cracked her so badly that she’s no longer capable of asking for help like a rational person.” Ron sighed. “I don’t know. It’s only a feeling. But it’s a strong one. I think she’s the one we need to focus on.”
Chris rubbed her eyes. She was so tired she could barely think. “How do we help a ghost who isn’t capable of telling us what she wants? What does she need so that she can move on? And can she, even? She’s a suicide, like Joe.”
“I don’t know. She was mentally ill when she did what she did, probably psychotic. So maybe the powers that be won’t hold it against her. Either way, I think what she wants is forgiveness.” She looked over at the table.
Chris followed her gaze. “From Vi, you mean?”
Ron shrugged. “That would be a start.”
“All right, then.” Chris gazed longingly at the mug of tea that sat cooling where she’d left it and wondered if there was anything more strongly caffeinated in this house. They were going to need it. She turned back to Ron. “I think I know what we need to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Have you ever done this sort of thing before?” Derek asked. Chris finished lighting the candle she’d placed at the center of the table and glanced at him as she shook out the match.
“I’ve never needed to before.” She looked at the lens of his phone camera. “Usually, I don’t need any help getting a spirit to talk to me.”
“I don’t feel right about this,” said her dad as he paced back and forth near the table. Marsha remained in her seat, her head bowed and eyes closed. She looked like she might be praying, or maybe meditating. Either way, Chris didn’t want to disturb her.
“Then feel free to wait in the other room,” she told him. At the wounded look he gave her, she added, “Look, Dad, you’re welcome to stay and join in, but only if you’re in the right frame of mind. If you’re fearful, or worse, if you have any doubt about all of this, it won’t help for you to be here.”
“I don’t want to leave Marsha. For that matter, I don’t want to leave you.”
“I think you should go,” said Marsha. She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “Drew, I love you, and I love that you want to protect me, but you can’t. Not from this. And you’ll only be a distraction.”
“For me, too,” said Chris, wincing inwardly at the hurt look on his face. “I’m sorry, Dad, but we can’t be worrying about you on top of everything else.”
“You don’t need to worry about my safety.”
“Not only your safety, Dad. Your reactions, what you’re thinking about all this… if you really want to help, the best way to do so is to wait in the living room.”
He looked down at Marsha. She gave him a sympathetic smile and reached out to grab his hand. “We’ll be fine.”
His shoulders slumped. “Fine. I’ll be right in the next room.” Marsha nodded. He leaned down to kiss her forehead and then turned to go.
“What about me?” Derek aske
d. “Will I be a distraction if I keep filming?”
“Not if you keep a safe distance.” Chris stood back and studied the table arrangement. “It’s better that it’s the three of us,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “Her family, and me to serve as the guide.”
“What about us?” asked Ron. She and Joe had been hovering nearby all this time. “Should we go?”
“Rowena chose you to communicate with. It’s probably better if you stay. Your presence might help her feel safe.”
“And me?” asked Joe.
Ron reached out and took his hand. “Your presence makes me feel safe.”
He smiled at that and gave her a resolute nod.
Vi came in from the entry hall, carrying a small box. “I found some photos.” She brought them over to the table and rummaged through them. “I thought perhaps this one, from a happier time in her life.” She laid a faded black and white photograph on the table.
It was a portrait of a young woman with pin curls and a broad smile. Her face was full, and although the photo was black-and-white, it was easy to imagine rosy cheeks and a healthy glow. Although she hadn’t seen it during any of her confrontations with Rowena’s spirit, Chris could make out a slight resemblance between her and Marsha. Judging from the look on Marsha’s face, she was thinking the same thing.
“That’ll do,” said Chris, taking the picture and leaning it against the candle. “Okay, I think we’re ready. Vi, you should sit at the head of the table.” As Vi took her seat, Chris took hers across from Marsha. She repositioned the candle and photo in the center of the three of them. “Derek, can you get the lights?”
“Sure.”
He turned out the lights. The three of them clasped hands.
“Should we close our eyes?” asked Marsha.
Chris nodded toward the picture. “Focus on the image.” She glanced up at Ron, who nodded encouragingly. “Rowena Parker,” Chris called. “We invite you here. This is a safe place. Your daughter is here, and she wishes to speak to you.” She paused. Nothing happened. Again, she glanced at Ron, who shook her head. Chris took a deep breath and repeated the invitation, more loudly this time. Before she finished, the candle flickered, but Rowena didn’t appear.
She squeezed Vi’s hand. “Call to her.”
The old woman looked startled, but she nevertheless nodded and cleared her voice. “Mother?” she called. “Mama, it’s me. It’s your Violet.” Again, the flame flickered. “Mama, I don’t understand why you did what you did… why you hurt me, and Ezekiel, and then left us the way you did. But I know you weren’t in your right mind. We all know that.”
She nodded to Chris and Marsha. “And I don’t think you want to hurt anyone else.” She held up Marsha’s hand. “This beautiful young lady beside me is my granddaughter. She’s your great granddaughter. You tried to hurt her, Mama, and so has Ezekiel. It has to stop. Please help her. Don’t let any more harm come to this girl.”
The flame flickered again, violently this time. The photo caught fire on one corner and began to blacken and curl. Vi moved to let go of Chris’s hand and reach for it, but Chris held on. “Leave it! Don’t let go.”
The table began to vibrate. Above them, the rustic chandelier shook and swung. Somewhere outside, Rowena started to wail.
“I don’t think Rowena’s the one doing all of this,” said Ron.
“Ezekiel!” Chris called. “We know you’re in pain! We want to help you!” She looked at Vi. “Is there a picture of him in that box?”
“No. We never took any of the baby. They would have done that at his baptism, but they were waiting until Mama felt up to it.”
“The cradle,” said Ron. “The one Joe and I found in the attic. It was his.”
Chris nodded. “Derek?”
“I’m over here,” he said from somewhere over by the stove.
“There’s an old cradle up in the attic. I need you to go get it and bring it down. Get Dad to help you.”
“I’m on it.”
As he headed for the living room, Ron nudged Joe. “Go with them. Show them where to find it.”
He nodded and disappeared without a word.
“What will that do?” asked Marsha.
“Hopefully, provide an anchor. Something for him to attach to besides you.”
The wailing outside grew louder. It sounded like it was coming from outside the kitchen door. Chris already felt heavy, weighted down with crushing sadness and guilt. Marsha’s hand gripped hers like a vice. On the other side of her, Vi began to murmur softly. “My fault. My fault. If I had made her happier, if I could have cheered her up—”
“Vi, snap out of it!”
Vi blinked and looked at her. Then her face grew determined. “Mother!” she shouted. “Stop this! Ezekiel, you too!”
Suddenly, the shaking stopped. Chris had no idea whether it was because the spirit had heeded Vi’s command, or because he sensed what the guys were up to and went to investigate. Either way, she breathed a little sigh of relief.
But the crying continued. Marsha whimpered. “Make her stop!”
“Mama!” Vi cried out.
Rowena fell silent. The three of them relaxed. And then she appeared suddenly behind Marsha, eliciting a startled scream from Chris. Ron rushed toward the table, holding a hand out toward the spirit as if to ward her off. “Don’t harm them.”
She stared at Ron a moment, then looked around with wild eyes. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m not allowed inside the house. If he finds me here…”
“He’s busy right now. But he needs his mother.”
She shook her head. “No. He’ll hurt me. Like I hurt him.”
“Sister, you’re way beyond being hurt the way you hurt him.”
Rowena winced. Her face twisted into a mask of anger.
“Ron,” said Chris, “maybe don’t make her angry.”
“What’s happening?” asked Marsha as Vi asked, “Is she here?”
Rowena looked down at Marsha. She raised her hands and let them hover over Marsha’s head.
“Don’t touch her!” Ron commanded, but Rowena didn’t appear to hear.
“So much guilt. So much grief. Like me. She has to be punished.”
“No,” said Chris. “She doesn’t deserve to be punished. She didn’t do anything wrong.”
Rowena looked at Chris as though confused that a living person was speaking to her. When she spoke again she addressed Ron. “She killed her baby. I know. I heard it in her head.”
“That was an accident,” said Ron. “Crib death. You know about that, right? That was a thing in your time? She feels guilty because she couldn’t save her baby, but she didn’t kill her baby. Not like you did.”
“Ron!” Chris snapped.
Above them, the chandelier started to swing. Rowena’s gaze snapped up. “He’s coming! I have to hide!” She gripped Marsha’s head.
“No!” Ron and Chris both shouted, but it was too late. Rowena entered Marsha’s body. Marsha’s head snapped back, and she let out a gasp. Suddenly, she stood up, releasing the hands she was holding, and stood back from the table, looking around with wild eyes.
Chris also stood up. “Marsha?”
Marsha’s head turned toward her, but her eyes seemed to look through Chris without seeing her. Then she turned and focused on Vi. Her face softened. “Violet?”
Vi stared up at her in amazement. “Mama? Is that you?”
Marsha smiled, nodding. Slowly, carefully, she reached toward Vi and brushed her cheek with the back of her fingers. “My girl.” Then her hand flew to her own cheek as slashes appeared there. She reeled backward with a scream. The other cheek was scratched in the same way, and then she was suddenly thrown off her feet. She hit the wall and slid down into a heap.
Vi stood up and shouted, “Ezekiel! Stop!” She and Chris both hurried over to Marsha, but they were thrown back with an equal amount of force. Chris felt the air go out of her as she slammed into the edge of the table. She looked over and saw Vi on the f
loor.
Ron was the only one to make it to Marsha’s side. “Come out of her!” she commanded. “You’re only going to get her killed! You can’t hide in her forever!”
At that moment, the guys entered carrying the bassinet. “Where do you want it?” Derek asked, then swore as he took in the sight of things. He dropped his end and hurried over to Chris. “What happened?”
“I’m fine. Check on Vi.”
As he went to check the old woman, Drew exclaimed, “Marsha!” and started toward her. Chris managed to meet him halfway.
“Dad, don’t!”
“But she’s hurt!”
“That’s not Marsha!”
“What are you talking about?”
Before she could explain, someone started to sing. It was coming from Marsha. She was singing a lullaby.
Slowly, she got to her feet and turned toward the crib. She approached it carefully, singing the entire way. When she reached it, she looked up. “I’m here,” she called. “Mama’s here now, Ezekiel! Everything’s going to be okay!”
The chandelier went still. Above the crib, a cloud of light shimmered, swirled, and coalesced into a ball of light that descended into the crib.
Marsha stooped to reach inside the bassinet. When she straightened again, she held a baby in her arms. She resumed singing as she nestled him against her chest and stroked his thick, black hair. He started to cry, a pitiful sound, that of a baby neglected for too long.
“Shhh,” Rowena said through Marsha. “It’s okay now. I’m here.” She closed her eyes and burst into tears. Her crying wasn’t the despairing wail they had all come to expect, but rather the tears of remorse. “I’m so sorry. Mama is so, so sorry for what she did. I should have been there for you. I should have loved you better.” She began to sway with him, rocking him to and fro, and he began to quiet down. “I’m here now, and I love you.” She kissed his tiny cheek. “I love you, Ezekiel.”
Behind her, another light shone. A golden light, warm and inviting, one that Chris was all too familiar with. It was the way to the great beyond. And it was only large enough to admit the baby.
Marsha turned toward it and stood there a moment, seemingly mesmerized. Then she turned away and looked back at Ron, then Chris. “What is it?”
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