Tori’s breath hitched. Her hands sprang free from the glass. Too scared to resume breathing, she watched, mesmerized as another dot appeared, then five more, each forming another letter until the globe of the lantern spelled out a message:
Too Loud
“What?”
The lantern dimmed, and then brightened, as if accentuating its point.
Tori swallowed a lump in her throat. The words looked like they were written by a child, wavy and shaky, like someone forced to write backwards.
Okay, don’t freak out. Lantern hasn’t hurt me; there’s no one else here. Too loud? Maybe it means me—I guess I’m shouting right at it.
“What are you trying to tell me, Lantern?” she whispered. “Are you a ghost?”
Another dot disappeared from the condensation below the T and formed the letter N, followed by more dotting and stretching until a second message appeared:
No I’m Jared
Tori chewed on her lip as she looked left and right, and then peered back over her shoulder. Are you kidding me? Remembering to keep her voice low, she cleared her throat. “Jared? Are you inside the lantern?”
Instead of spelling out more words, the condensation began to disappear as if someone were wiping it away. Beads of moisture gathered and dripped along the inside of the glass. The closer she looked, Tori noticed two tiny hands swiping along the surface. She gasped, squinted, and then looked closer.
Unable to hold it in, she screamed.
The light dimmed.
Tori pressed her lips together and covered them with her hand. Finding her voice again, she whispered, “Sorry—I’m sorry. If I was too loud before, that must have been horrible.”
The lantern brightened again. Tori tentatively glanced at it and caught her breath. A tiny person stood inside, rubbing his ears.
Oh no, what have I done? I’ve hurt him. The male figure had young features. He was so small that they were difficult to make out, but she guessed he was a teen version of whatever he was, with dark hair and matching dark eyes. His clothes looked like they were from ages past.
“How’d you get in there?” she whispered.
He removed his hands from his ears and reached out to the glass, rubbing away more of the condensation. His mouth moved but made no sound.
“I can’t hear you.”
Jared wound up his arm and let it spring forward. His fist came in contact with the glass, resulting in a faint clink. He dipped his head.
Tori frowned, her heart melting. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I have an idea. I’ll visit you again tomorrow night.”
The light brightened as Jared looked up.
“How do you do that—make the light brighter and dimmer?”
He shrugged and shook his head.
“Okay, don’t worry,” said Tori. “We’ll figure this out. I’m going to go back to my grandmother’s house.” She pointed a finger, not completely sure it pointed in the direction of the house, but to show him that it was far away. “Next time, I’ll bring tools—something to help me hear you and try to get you out. My name is Tori.”
A grin stretched across Jared’s face; the light glowed brighter.
Tori blinked. Lantern’s brightness seems to change depending on his mood or whether he’s trying to get my attention, she figured, thinking back to the night she first found the lantern. He dims when he’s calm or sad, and brightens when he’s upset or happy. Lantern flashed on and off when I ran. I wonder what that means. Either way, I suppose I can stop calling him Lantern now.
“Goodnight, Jared,” she whispered.
The lantern held its light until Tori was no longer in sight, tapering softly as she walked away.
Three Days before Halloween
The next morning, Tori double-checked the lock on her grandmother’s front door. She’d been so absorbed in everything she’d learned about the lantern and Jared that she wasn’t sure she’d locked up for the night. She ran her thumb along the twists and bends of cool metal. Sure enough, she’d flipped the lock as well as the deadbolt.
Whew, at least I’m not totally losing my mind. Part of Tori questioned whether what she’d found the night before was true. Had she really met a tiny guy inside the lantern? Or was it a weird dream?
She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Startled by footsteps behind her, she jumped.
“Oh, there you are,” whispered her grandmother as she twisted a shawl around her shoulders. “You must have returned late last night. Did you find out anything interesting about the lantern?”
Tori pressed her lips together, debating whether she should confide in her grandmother. Her explanation was pretty out there, even for a Halloween prank. “I’m not sure anyone would believe me,” she answered, trust winning out.
“Believe what, hon?”
Tension spread through Tori’s shoulders as she glanced back to find her mother all but bounding down the stairs. Well, at least someone got a good night’s sleep. Despite herself, she smiled. “Morning, Mom.”
Two seconds later, Kimmy came toddling after. Tori fussed with her brother, straightening his shirt and smoothing out his curls. “How can you be messed up already? Didn’t you just wake up?”
Kimmy opened his mouth in a wide, silly grin. “Ha!” He opened his arms, which Tori understood as Kimmy-code for pick me up.
She took the bait and whispered, “Good timing, little bud.” Louder, she added, “Let’s get you set up in your booster seat.”
With light, swift steps she carried him to the kitchen, leaving her grandmother and mother to stare at each other. “Do you know what she’s talking about—something about believing?” asked Tori’s mother.
The elder Mrs. Hale pursed her lips and smiled, sheepishly. She waved her daughter-in-law toward the kitchen. “Young ladies need to have their dreams and secrets, I suppose,” she said. “I can hardly keep up with the barrage of technology, let alone make sense of young people’s thoughts these days. You know how different things were in my day.”
Chapter 6
Tori tried to lay low for the rest of the day. Seeing as there was no use inspecting the lantern during the daytime, she read to her brother and kept up with the barrage of text messages sent by Shawna. There was more news about Adam, as well as drama over some new mandatory program the students were forced into back home so they’d have a safe Halloween. Tori had all but forgotten about her costume and trick-or-treating with Kimmy. Her thoughts were full of Jared and the lantern. She had so many questions to ask him, but there was no point in it if she couldn’t hear his answers.
So far, her grandmother had been willing to help, even to the extent of helping her sneak out at night. She hoped her grandmother would also support her plan to go back again to hear what Jared had to say. A retired nurse, Tori’s grandmother had just the tool she needed: a stethoscope. When Tori was a young girl, her grandmother had taught her how to put the ear tips in her ears like headphones, and then press the chest piece to her heart. She’d been fascinated by the thumping sounds inside her chest that she couldn’t hear with her naked ears. Bu-dum. Bu-dum. Bu-dum.
If the stethoscope could magnify her heartbeat, then there was a chance it could also amplify Jared’s voice. Tori smiled. “It’s worth a try,” she muttered to herself.
She held in her excitement throughout the day, avoiding—by some miracle—her mother’s stern brow and questioning glances.
But she couldn’t avoid her father’s point-blank question asked during dinner. “You didn’t happen to go outside last night, did you?”
Tori’s heart stopped. “Wh—what do you mean?”
“I saw your hiking boots on the front porch right outside the door, when I went to get the morning paper. I was sure I’d brought them inside last night and placed them on the shoe rack.”
Tori paled, at the same time mentally smacking herself in the back of the head. I knew I’d forgotten something. I remembered to lock the door, but left my boots outside like I do at home. Th
ink. Think. Think. Tori wasn’t a good liar and now wasn’t the time to start practicing. Her shoulders rolled forward. “Sorry, Dad.”
“Tori?” Her mother’s voice was pinched. She stood from the table, her eyes flittering between Tori and her grandmother. “Did you know about this, Alice? Did you allow this over our objection?”
Now it was time for Tori’s grandmother to pale. But she didn’t. She lifted her chin. “It’s my home, my property. And I’d said it was safe.”
Tori’s mother stood silently for a few seconds. She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. When she spoke again, her voice was calm and serious. “If we can’t trust you to support us in how we raise our children, then perhaps all visits with Tori and Kimmy should take place at our own home, not here.”
Tori sucked in a breath, startled by the pained look on her grandmother’s face. There’d been a thirteen-year gap between now and the last time Tori had visited the plantation. She’d been aware of a tension between the families, glossed over with smiles and good manners, which was becoming more noticeable as she got older. Whether that had anything to do with why they lived so far apart, Tori didn’t know. But she didn’t want her grandmother punished for any of it. “It’s not Grandma’s fault. Mom, I was just following another of your rules—the one about doing what you believe in and how when given an opportunity to do good—”
“Victoria! This was a matter of your safety and a violation of our trust. You will not go out again at night without us. Your father and I will have to discuss whether you’ll be grounded from taking Kimmy trick-or-treating. He can go to dinner with us and the Thompsons instead.”
No. Tori bit her lip. The Thompsons were a childless couple her parents had known since high school; they were stuffy and boring, and Mr. Thompson had a habit of patting her on the head and teasing that it would stunt her growth. Why do the Thompsons have to spend Halloween visiting their parents’ hometown too? Why couldn’t they stay back home?
Tori’s Halloween plans were falling apart. She’d ruined her visit with her grandmother, and may have robbed her grandmother of future visits from the comfort of her own home. Dumbfounded, Tori stared at her father. Not only had he brought up the fact that she’d been out last night, he’d said nothing to defend his own mother. He sat there with his eyes glued to his plate, fork in hand, his knuckles white with tension.
“You’re not going to stop us from visiting Grandma again, are you, Dad?”
He frowned. “I’m hoping it won’t come to that, but your mother’s right—we’ll need to talk about it.”
Despite Tori’s best efforts, tears had begun trailing down her cheeks. Tears filled Kimmy’s eyes. He whimpered. Great, Tori thought, now he thinks he’s in trouble too.
Her bottom lip quivered. “He should be able to go trick-or-treating. He’s been waiting all year. Please don’t punish him because of me!”
“That’s yet to be decided,” answered her mother. “For now, you’re forbidden from going anywhere near that lantern whether it’s dark or light outside.”
Tori frowned at her mother, and then met her father’s gaze with pleading eyes. Desperate, she said the first thing that came to her mind. “The lantern has a name. It’s Jared.”
Her parents looked at one another.
Tori’s grandmother opened her mouth and shut it again. She smoothed out the napkin that sat on her lap. “Perhaps I did let this go too far. Carl, Megan, please understand—I didn’t mean any harm. I didn’t know just how vivid of an imagination Tori has—”
“I’m serious,” said Tori, not caring that her voice squeaked like a child’s. “I’m not imagining anything. You can come with me and see it for yourself. I’ll prove it to you.”
“Enough of this nonsense!” Tori’s mother shook her head. Seeing the despair written across Tori’s face, she sighed and collected herself. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, hon. You’re usually so reasonable. I don’t know if you miss your friends or if something else is happening. If this is part of a holiday prank you’re setting up, know that I’m not interested. But, baby, if there’s something private you’d like to discuss with me, then we can chat about it after dinner. Not here at the table.”
Tori clamped her mouth shut, resisting the urge to shout and leave the room. Given her family’s reaction to her news about Jared, she doubted any time would be the right time to discuss what and who she’d found.
She glanced at her grandmother, who looked back at her with interest. Perhaps she still had an ally, despite what her grandmother had said about a vivid imagination.
That evening, Tori worked extra hard to convince her parents that her mind was on other things. They’d seemed to soften toward her once dinner was over and they’d had a break from hearing about the lantern.
She sat with Kimmy on the couch, her legs folded underneath her while they played a game of peekaboo. But the lantern didn’t stray far from her mind.
Tori’s mother popped her head in the room. “Want to watch a movie with us, hon? Your father’s setting up a projector in the theater room.” She almost sounded like her old self again.
“Nah, thanks,” Tori said. “I think I’ll just read tonight.” She picked up her brother and handed him to her mother before heading in the direction of her grandmother’s library. She over-exaggerated a shrug, hoping her mother would read it as a sign of defeat. No use raising suspicion, she thought. Tonight I’ll be more careful.
Chapter 7
Tori sat at a table and pretended to read in the dimly lit room. Her hands held a book with a frayed spine and yellowed pages. The letters on the book’s cover, which appeared to have once been embossed with gold, were scratched and faded.
The wall behind her was filled with additional books, the shelving barely visible through all the volumes, maps, and artifacts. History pervaded the space. Even the curtains that masked the windows in deep shades of burgundy seemed to hide secrets between their folds.
“Oh, there you are.” Tori’s grandmother smiled as she entered the room. The soft skin of her cheek pinched into a dimple. “I thought you might still be upset from your—” She looked over her shoulder before continuing in a lowered voice. “—your parents’ overreactions.”
“Just looking through some old books,” Tori said, changing the subject. No use opening up that wound. She wasn’t done with the lantern, and both she and her grandmother knew it. “I’ve been thinking about going to college to study nursing—to become a nurse like you.”
Her grandmother’s eyes brightened. “That would make me quite proud. I learned a lot about life and people when I worked—before I met your grandfather. But it must be what you want to do, for you.”
Tori flipped through a couple of pages, breathing in the book’s musty smell. She remembered the story of how her grandmother had met her husband at a hospital. She’d taken care of him; and before he’d left he’d asked whether he could see her again. Her grandmother had no idea how wealthy he and his family were. She’d seen him at his worst and loved him anyway.
Tori’s grandmother had continued to work for a short time after they’d married, up until they’d started a family of their own. Tori’s grandfather saw no reason for his wife to continue working; but, knowing her love for medicine and learning, he’d encouraged her to study and read as much as she liked. The library had been his gift to her.
“Did you miss it?” Tori asked. “Not working anymore as a nurse?”
Her grandmother pulled out a chair and sat down. “Sometimes. It was hard work. I enjoyed seeing the patients get well and was glad to have contributed to their recovery. But there was also a lot of death.” Her eyes darkened for a moment before she smiled again. She nodded toward the book Tori held in her hands. “Is there anything in particular that I can help you find?”
“Not really. I’m just browsing. Do you still have your instruments—your blood pressure cuff and stethoscope?”
“Certainly.” Her grandmother stood up and motione
d for Tori to follow her to a chest of drawers wedged in the corner of the room. She opened the third drawer and pulled out a nursing bag made of leather and clasped together with a silver buckle. She brought the bag back to the table and laid out the equipment, intently watching Tori, whose attention had gone directly to the stethoscope.
Tori extended a hand to trace the tubing between the stethoscope’s left ear tip to its chest piece.
Her grandmother sniffed. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the lantern, would it?”
Tori froze. “Grandma,” she whispered, “I wasn’t kidding about what I said at dinner. I wasn’t making anything up. I saw someone inside the lantern and he was trying to tell me something. Only he was so small I couldn’t hear his voice through the glass.”
Understanding flashed in her grandmother’s eyes. “You think you’ll be able to hear him—the voice inside—by using the stethoscope?”
Practically bouncing, Tori said, “I know you think it’s ridiculous, but—”
“On the contrary, dear; I think your idea is rather creative.”
“So you believe me?”
“I’m not sure what to believe, but I can’t imagine why anyone would want to make up a story like that. You seem eager to help this person inside the lantern, so I’m going to let you use it,” she said, sliding the stethoscope toward Tori.
Tori’s eyes widened. “Even if Mom gets mad again? What if she gets Dad to agree that we can’t come visit you anymore?”
Her grandmother huffed. “Sometimes, when things don’t make sense,” she said, pointing to Tori’s chest, “you have to follow your heart. As for your mother, well, we’ll see.”
A nursing bag rocked back and forth from Tori’s hand as she ventured into the darkness.
It was a good thing the bag had a sturdy handle because it was full and heavy. Before leaving the house, Tori accepted additional items from her grandmother—a small crowbar and a handheld metal cutter that looked like a cross between a pair of pliers and gardening scissors, both found in her grandfather’s workshop. They hadn’t been able to find a glass cutter and Tori was worried that smashing the glass in some other way would harm Jared, so she settled for tools that would help pry or cut off the metal part of the lantern.
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