The rickety bus jolted its way back to the historic district. I tapped my thigh, anxiety building. Ryan should be here helping. Going it alone almost felt like cheating.
“It’s not cheating.”
I jumped. My mother appeared in the open seat next to me. She developed slowly, like a camera lens coming into focus.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered from the corner of my mouth. “I thought you couldn’t leave home?”
“Turns out I can,” she chirped brightly. “But it’s not always pleasant. It’s shadowy in places and hard to make things out. And colder, the farther I get from the house.”
She shimmied her shoulders and clanked her teeth together, as if fighting back an impending freeze.
“You’re spying on me,” I said.
“I didn’t mean to spy. You were gone a long time and I was worried. I couldn’t sleep until I checked on you.” She folded her hands on her lap, her fingers pulling at the paisley blouse she was forever forced to wear.
“You don’t sleep. Or at least that’s what you told me the dozens of times I found you hovering over my bed in the middle of the night.”
“It was a figure of speech.”
“Secondly, you aren’t worried. You’re nosy.”
“Who? Me? Bah!” Vivi swatted away the notion like an annoying bug. In the seat in front of her, the ends of a woman’s hair floated up, as if caught in a wave of static electricity. “As long as I’m earthbound, I’m going to watch out for my little Bay Leaf.”
“And how long will you be earthbound, exactly?” I asked.
Mother looked at the bare wrist where her diamond watch used to reside, and shrugged.
“Could be a minute. Could be your lifetime.”
She elbowed me, sending a metallic shock down my spine. I scooted slightly away, and she didn’t notice, as she was too caught up in her own plans.
“Now that I’m mobile, we should go on a family vacation! Your father would like that.”
The way she spoke of my father, as if he were still with us, unnerved me even more than her ghost-touch.
“We could go see the pyramids! Oh, wait, they’re made of stone. I read that stone can trap disenfranchised souls inside. Castles are probably a no-no, too.”
I smiled lazily. “Actually, a castle sounds lovely right about now.”
“You get that dry sense of humor from your father,” she said, trying to squeeze my knee. “Have you put on weight? I think I still have some pills in my top dresser drawer that will help with that. Just don’t tell anyone. They’re from Canada.”
I pursed my lips, looking for escape. I’d be home soon.
But so would Mother.
“Medical district!” the bus driver announced.
Outside, a row of two-story brick offices tightly lined the street. I pulled the chain as hard as I could, and the bus ground to a halt.
“This isn’t us, dear,” Mom said.
“No, it’s not us,” I said.
I grabbed my purse and rocketed through the door, waving the exhaust from my eyes as the bus drove away, Vivi Bonds still inside.
She had found her way out of the house and was more than capable of finding her way back in.
I needed to be alone for a moment, without my mother buzzing around. She wouldn’t risk going into a stone building, where spirits were rumored to suffer darkness, madness, or eternal entrapment. Stone was permanent, and could outlast even the most stubborn soul.
I surveyed the brick doctor’s offices before me. They had once been Victorian row houses – tall brick buildings with hardly a handbreadth between them. I chose the middle one for the words on the shingle: “Reed Hollow’s Friendliest Doctor.”
Well, since I’m here…
Marching up the concrete steps, I hoped the doctor was friendly enough to see me without an appointment.
It was a cozy waiting room, with coloring books and Sesame Street playing on the TV. Misty, the receptionist, handed me a stack of paperwork and asked when I’d last seen a physician.
“Uh… I think I was six or seven,” I answered honestly.
“I’ll just put down that you need a checkup.”
Misty left me sitting on an examination table in room eight. Before I could open the golf magazine, a doctor bounced in - a short balloon of a man with twinkling eyes.
“You must be Baylee, correct? I’m Dr. Friendly.”
He looked over my file as he chewed on the end of a pen.
“Mm-hmmm. Yes. Wow! Twenty-three years since you’ve seen a medical professional? Curious, how much insurance do you have?”
“Pardon?” I asked, gathering the examination gown around me.
“Kidding! I’m just glad you made it in to see me. After such a long time, who knows what we’ll find when we open you up.” He looked at my chart again. “Your maiden name was Bonds? Are you Vivi’s daughter?”
“Uh, yes. I was, anyway.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your parents. They were good people. Went fishing with your dad quite a bit back in the day. Not much of a conversationalist, but a solid fisherman. And your mother… I could tell you stories.”
“Please don’t.”
He looked momentarily taken aback, then patted my shoulder.
“Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have brought them up without checking on where you are at in the grieving process. Let’s get back to you. Your stats are good and you appear fairly healthy for a woman of your age, but looks can be deceiving. Tell me, do you have any of the following conditions: Headaches, stomach problems, insomnia?”
“How did you know?”
He raised one eyebrow. “I’m either a really good doctor… or magic.” He winked as he checked off boxes on his clipboard. “Are you experiencing any depression?”
“No.” I answered honestly.
“How about anxiety? Are you experiencing anxiety?”
“Anxiety?”
“Like panic attacks?”
My stomach knotted, tightening as I digested his words. “Yes! Panic. That’s what I’m feeling! When I close my eyes all I see is debt and sagging ceilings and my dead mother…”
“Say no more,” Dr. Friendly said, nodding. “Death isn’t the end, you know? I’ve seen souls rise up out of their discarded bodies with my own eyes. The thought gives me comfort, when I think of how much I miss Margot.”
“Your wife?”
“Basset hound. We were together fourteen years. She died last spring.” He sighed, then continued his inquisition, poking and prodding me in various locations as he took notes. “Any hallucinations?” he asked casually.
“What do you mean?”
He set his clipboard down and rolled his stool backwards, so that we were eye to eye. “Do you see things that others don’t see?”
The gray ring pulsed, squeezing my finger. “How would I know what other people see or don’t see?”
“Young lady, I know I come across as a simple country doctor, but I’ve been in this business nearly four decades and I’ve lived in this town all sixty-two years of my life. I knew your mother. In fact, she brought you in several times when you were little.”
Dr. Friendly removed his glasses, set them by the wash basin, then discarded his latex gloves. “Your mother brought you in because you were having nightmares – nightmares that followed you into the day. You were about four or five then, I believe.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
“I told Vivi you needed to see a mental health professional.”
“A psychiatrist?”
“I wasn’t that specific. But after that visit, she never brought you back. If you’re still experiencing these visions I can help you, but you’ll have to be honest with me. Are you really seeing your dead mother at night?”
His face was kindly and concerned. I nodded obediently, not daring to tell him that I also saw her during my waking hours as well. Who knew? I was the only one who saw her. Maybe it was all in my head. I glanced aro
und the office, for once hoping she would materialize.
“When did your insomnia begin?” he pressed on.
My knees shook as his eyes bore into mine. They weren’t judgmental, only genuinely concerned. I counted backwards in my head.
“About two-and-a-half years ago.”
“After your husband went missing?”
My mouth went dry. I hadn’t mentioned Ryan, but it was impossible to keep anything private in Reed Hollow. “Yes, it began about then. The headaches, too.”
“It’s grief, my dear. Pure and simple grief. As for the anxiety and hallucinations, you never recovered from one loss before you were confronted with two more. I’m not sure how you’re even walking around.”
Dr. Friendly bounded from his seat and climbed a stepladder, his short arm reaching for a high cupboard. He gracefully scooped together a handful of bottles and proceeded back down.
“These are for sleep,” he announced, showing me a bottle of white pills. He tapped another bottle, filled with silver pills. “And these are for the nightmares… even if they come during the day.”
He placed the stash in a brown paper lunch sack and handed it over. “Take them sparingly, and keep them secret. They are only for my special patients.”
“You mean crazy?” I chuckled nervously.
He regarded me, his eyes suddenly serious. “I mean haunted.”
EIGHT
I took my time walking home, hoping my mother had found something else to do with her unlimited free time.
My stomach reminded me I was still hungry as I passed The Little Tea Pot and inhaled the aroma of warm muffins. I stopped and looked longingly through the window at the diners- finely dressed women eating finger sandwiches and tiny pastries. Ella, the insane sample lady, was nowhere in sight.
Perhaps she had gone home for the day?
Temptation percolated as my eyes scanned the glass case. I turned away from the tea house, while I still had the resolve.
“Well, well, what do we have here? Are the cookies at The Aunt-Tea-Query not sugary enough? I still remember your voracious sweet tooth.”
Dave Cullins emerged from the bookstore next door, carrying a stack of newspapers.
“I’m conducting research,” I said, as a flush spread across my cheeks.
“Oh? Is that what you are going with?”
“It’s all I got.”
I smiled, feeling suddenly shy. He was looking at me the way he had the night of our senior prom. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and tried to think of something to say. Fortunately, Dave never ran out of topics for conversation.
“Finished with your earlier errand?” he asked.
“Um…” I wasn’t sure how to begin my story, or even if I should. It had been an odd day and I wanted – needed - someone to confide in. “Let’s just say I may be in over my head.”
“Would a scone help?” he asked, taking me by the arm and turning me back towards The Little Tea Pot. “Or maybe a crumpet?”
“You know me too well.”
“Thank you.”
“Alex won’t be happy with me.”
“Then we won’t tell him.”
“And there’s a crazy old lady in there who hates me.”
“I brought my crazy spray. Sends them running every time.”
I continued my protests, even as the doorbell chimed and we crossed the threshold into the garden-themed café. My hands were moist and my excuses had run thin.
“You’re nervous,” Dave said. “It’s just quiches and tarts. I bet you can outrun them all.”
“You haven’t seen me run in a long time, have you?”
He laughed and I was glad to have averted further questioning. If I were being honest with myself, it wasn’t Ella I feared at the moment. It was Dave. There was too much past between us, a past that confused my present situation.
“Why are you shivering?” he asked, pulling me into his side as a young waitress led us to our table.
“I’m just a little cold,” I lied, plastering a smile on to my face.
I didn’t know why I was shivering. In fact, until that moment I hadn’t realized I was shivering at all. Why was I so nervous? It was just Dave.
But something felt both strange and imminent, like the feeling you get when you’re holding your breath, waiting to blow out your birthday candles.
As we were about to take our seats, I saw a man through the window. He was wearing a brown suede bomber jacket, and smoking a cigarette as he ambled - head bowed - down the bustling sidewalk.
I must have audibly gasped because Dave was looking at me with concern. “You okay? Maybe we should get you home. You might be coming down with something.”
I shook my head, craning my neck to get a better look at the man through the window. No, it couldn’t be. Yes! It had to be!
Ryan! It was Ryan!
“Ryan!” I raced from the table, tripping over several chairs and colliding with customers in my hurry for the door. “Ryan! Stop! It’s me!”
I nearly lost a shoe as I crossed the street, my hair flying, screaming out his name. Ryan continued slowly on, not hearing me.
When I caught up to him, I grabbed him by the shoulder, spinning him around. “Ryan?”
His face was dirty and hadn’t seen a razor nor a washcloth in weeks. His jacket was torn. He stared at me with expressionless eyes, as if what he’d been through was too terrible to recount.
“Oh, Ryan! I’m here. I’m here.” I fell against his shoulder, breathing him in. He smelled musky and wild.
I burrowed my nose further into his neck.
Two years, ten months, and four days had passed, but it seemed only a moment now.
It was as if time collapsed.
I collapsed too, resting my full weight on his chest.
“Who are you? I don’t know you!!” The man screamed, pushing me away.
I blinked in confusion as I stepped back.
This wasn’t Ryan.
I had been so certain moments ago, but now I could clearly see this wasn’t my husband. He was about ten years too old and thirty pounds too light.
“I’m so sorry…that’s my husband’s coat. I thought you were him.”
“It’s mine now.” The man said flatly, zipping it up to his chin. “I bought it at Goodwill in Tonston.”
“Tonston? When?”
“I don’t know. Last winter, I guess.”
I remembered now – I had donated some of Ryan’s things shortly after returning to Reed Hollow. It was easier on the heart than unpacking them.
I apologized again to the man. His name was Cooper and he was relatively pleasant when he wasn’t being assaulted by strange women.
“This jacket has helped me through a couple of tough months,” he said. “I’m not sure what I would have done without it.”
I touched his sleeve. There were no memories of Ryan in the coat now – only images of Cooper huddled around a campfire in the woods, shivering as the jacket kept him warm.
“I own The Aunt-Tea-Query down the road,” I said. “Come in for soup, anytime. My treat.”
“All right then,” Cooper agreed, straightening up. He turned and continued down the sidewalk, now seemingly lighter on his feet.
I looked back at The Little Teapot. Dave was staring at me through the window.
“You’re a fool, Baylee Scott,” I chided myself under my breath.
I shook the bottle of pills in my coat pocket. Are you having hallucinations?
NINE
(KELA)
Alex closed The Aunt-Tea-Query shortly after high tea, enlisting the help of his cousin Kela for the cause.
Kela was ten years his junior and chased shadows, rainbows and love with equal abandon. She would have been a flapper in another era, with her dark wavy bob, piercing blue eyes, and dimples that accentuated her bowed lips.
Tall and slim and vivacious, she commanded the attention of men, whether dressed in sweatpants or a short leather skirt. She was a fre
e spirit whose temperament rose and fell and thundered.
“You could just ask Yvette for the cat back,” Kela said as Alex peered through the side window of Bend and Break. She drew a harmonica from her oversized sweater and played a few notes, then stopped abruptly at Alex’s stern look.
“You don’t ask the devil for your fiddle back,” was his answer.
Kela shrugged. “Yes, Yvette’s an elitist, but I wouldn’t call her the devil. That’s giving her way too much power.”
“Well, you haven’t been around her enough. Just keep a lookout.”
Kela appraised her cousin’s camo pants, knitted cap, and climbing rope. “I salute your bravery while I eye-roll your stupidity.”
“Thank you.”
Alex bent over and got a crowbar out of his toolbox.
“Why don’t you just try opening the window first?” Kela asked.
He shrugged, then pushed open the window without any effort. With an audible sigh, he dropped the crowbar back into the box.
“Wish me luck,” he said, as he lifted one gangly leg over the windowsill.
“You’ll need it,” she said, as he disappeared into the grayness of the room.
It was unseasonably warm out and Kela paced near the window for several minutes before deciding the shade of a tree was a better place to carry out her lookout duty. She wasn’t fond of direct sunlight, preferring late nights and early mornings.
Plus, the tree was in the front yard, located near the sidewalk, and someone might venture by and ask what she was doing. If she were lucky, she’d get to try out her Southern Belle persona.
“What am I doing?” she’d ask her confronter in a long, slow drawl. “Why, can’t a girl just enjoy a little sunshine without raising some eyebrows?”
Too bad she hadn’t thought to bring her sun hat and parasol.
Kela tried to wait patiently, but as the minutes dragged on and no one approached, her enthusiasm for the game waned. Southern Belles were overdone. Maybe she’d pretend she were an over-scheduled soccer mom, sneaking away from her busy life for a quick yoga class.
Touch of Light: A Baylee Scott Paranormal Mystery (The Reed Hollow Chronicles Book 1) Page 7