The Gardener

by Michelle DePaepe

  Opal glared at both them. “I’m not talking about Karl.” She reached for the last card. “And now...for your future.”

  Georgia thrust out her hand and stopped her. “Let me guess...this card is Death, and my life is in grave danger if I don’t pay for your dramatic exorcism service to get rid of some ghost haunting my house.”

  Karl frowned. “Georgia? What’s with you?”

  She didn’t reply as she crossed her arms tighter over her chest.

  Opal met her stone cold gaze and waited until Georgia took her hand away. Then, she turned over the card.

  They all looked down at the picture of a large heart pierced by swords.

  “The Three of Swords,” Opal whispered. “It would be better if you had drawn the Death card. Death simply means change...or the end of something, allowing a new phase to begin. This card is far more negative. It’s pain...sorrow...disappointment. Your darkest hour will soon be upon you. You must listen to me, Georgia! You need to get out of that house. The spirit that lives there is a demon in sheep’s clothing. He’s a trickster, capable of anything. Your life means nothing to him. He will use you to get what he wants.”

  “What spirit? Even if I believed in ghosts, I haven’t seen any evidence of—”

  She stopped as an arm slipped around her waist from behind.

  Opal strained to see who it was, but the man turned away from them, pulling down the brim down on his tall hat. His hand kept a possessive lock on Georgia as he seemed to be interested in a pack of hollering boys playing a game of tag in the grass just beyond the booths.

  Georgia turned to Karl with an apologetic look. “This is Daniel. He’s a friend... helping me out around the house.”

  Karl held out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” the man whispered in a raspy voice.

  With his face still hidden in shadows, Opal could see little but the strangely familiar tall hat.

  “What’s your name again?” Karl asked.

  “Daniel. DanielMoreno,” he replied without turning to face them.

  Their exchange was interrupted as Opal screamed and held on to the back of her chair, feeling like she was about to faint. With her other hand, she pointed a hooked finger. “How dare you come here!”

  The spirit calmly folded his arms and stepped away from them. “This woman is obviously troubled.”

  “Demon!” Opal screamed again.

  Karl shrugged. “Opal...calm down. There are children here.”

  “Never mind, Karl,” Georgia said as she gave her companion a nudge. “We’re leaving. I think I hear some caramel apples calling my name.”

  “Bravo,” Daniel whispered. “I’m not much for crazy Fortune Tellers.”

  Opal slumped back in her chair, her head swaying as if she might lose consciousness. Karl ran around the table to her rescue.

  She refused his offer to drive her home. But, as soon as she felt well enough, she made hasty excuses to the carnival coordinator, packed her bag, and left.

  Shivering with fear as she drove home, she found it difficult to keep her hands steady on the wheel.

  She thought about the murders—of course he was behind them. And, he was brazen enough now to appear in public.

  What had he done to Georgia? Opal could tell that he’d mesmerized her. The way she looked at him—it was sickening. It was like he had a spell over her. She could imagine him swinging a gold watch in front of her eyes, hypnotizing her. But, perhaps he didn’t need such props. He probably had enough power in his ethereal eyes to make puppets of women before he lured them to their death.

  They had walked away arm in arm...like lovers. The dress she wore seemed like out of character as if he had chosen it for her...to christen her as his supernatural bride.

  The spirit had convinced her of his humanness, and now Georgia seemed to be smitten with him.

  That must have been what happened to Virginia. For a while, that sweet old lady believed that he was a transformed version of her dead husband. But, when she found out his true nature...it was too late.

  Opal wondered if he would come after her now. Every shadow between the bushes by her front door of her house seemed capable of hiding a lurking predator. The branches seemed like claws ready to grab her as she shuffled up the sidewalk. When a dog barked down the street, she hurried even faster to get her key into the lock.

  Could the spirit still dissolve himself into writhing fumes of dark smoke? She locked the door behind her, hoping that it was enough to keep him out. What sort of protection did she have if it didn’t?

  She tossed her bag by the door and rushed to the bedroom to find her bible. The heavy leather book in her hands felt protective, though she didn’t think it would do much good unless he was a solid being, and she could aim it directly at his head.

  As she removed her glasses and undid her braids, she thought of the one slim advantage she had—she knew a lot more about him than he knew about her. In fact, she was the only person who knew who he really was.

  She was leafing through the pages, looking for some words of comfort when an epiphany struck.

  The spirit was at the carnival. That meant he wasn’t at the house. Neither was Georgia.

  Now was her chance to go there safely and look for his bones.

  “Oh, God,” she said as she looked for a shovel in her garage. “Here we go...”

  Chapter 62

  As they walked amongst the little ghouls and goblins, Georgia laughed and asked, “What’s that woman got against you? She seems to think you’re evil. What did you do? Kill her lawn? Accidentally dig up her tulip bulbs?”

  “Nothing of the sort. She’s delusional. I don’t even know her.”

  “When I was out here for my grandmother’s funeral, I found her in the house. She tried to warn me that my life was in danger from a ghost. Isn’t that the silliest thing you’ve ever heard?”

  “In my day...they would have run her out of town in the paddy wagon or put her in a sanatorium with the other crazies.”

  “Your day? You talk like an old man. You must be younger than I am. What are you...thirty-five? Thirty-six?”

  “A hundred and thirty eight.”

  Georgia laughed as she smelled the delicious caramel at the booth a few feet ahead. “Well...if that’s true...you’re preserved rather nicely. I could use some of your youth potion.”

  “And I would gladly give it to you if I could be sure that we would always be such great friends. I really enjoy your company, Georgia...” he said, drawing out her name in a long whisper.

  They paused at the end of the line then he reached out and brushed a dark curl from her eyes. “If you only knew, mio amore ...how much you remind me of someone I knew long ago.”

  For a moment, the world scented with candy, adorned with capes, cloaks, and screaming children retreated from her mind. She felt dizzy and closed her eyes. Daniel’s face swirled before her...his top hat...his silk cravat...and coattails. The image was unpleasantly familiar. Was she experiencing a sort of paramnesia, a false déjà vu conjured by her imagination?

  It was something foggy and veiled, but palpable. A dream. Yes...a dream. Had her vivid imagination imposed his image on the man in her nightmare?

  She opened her eyes and steadied herself as she looked into his eyes, shimmering like molten-colored moonlight on a verdant sea. They pierced into her as he took her hand and led her forward with the line. Trapped by his gaze and the vice–like grip of his hand, she felt the ferocity of his adoration, and it paralyzed her.

  He breathed warmth into her ear; an unexpected perfume of roses tickled her nose as he pressed close to her side. “You have been so gracious, allowing me into your home. I’m planning a surprise for you.”

  Her heart danced as if filled with fireflies. This hot-blooded Italian charmer...who could imagine him a ghost?

  Chapter 63

  Opal didn’t waste any time. As soon as she reached County Line Road, she barreled through the ditch and parked
in a tall stand of weeds and prairie grass, far enough from the road to keep it hidden. Then, feeling like a military operative on a covert mission, she tucked her jeans into her boots, slung her duffel bag over her shoulder, and hiked up the road.

  As she approached the house, she saw no cars in the driveway, and no lights on. Though, she was sure that the spirit, who now apparently called himself, Daniel, was still at the carnival with Georgia, the house seemed just as frightening on this chilly Halloween night.

  She had just a rough idea of where she was going. After crunching up the gravel drive towards the picket fence on the side of the garage, she felt for the latch on the gate and let herself through.

  On the path, she could see the back lawn, the empty field, and the scraggly line of giant Cottonwoods bordering the river. In the moonlight, they looked like monsters—their bare limbs jutting upwards like claws trying to snatch the stars from the sky.

  She shivered, hoping there were no teenagers under them at this moment trying to conjure the ghost of MargaretCrawford. She’d heard enough tales that sounded believable to know they couldn’t all be made up.

  One of her clients said that he had seen her himself. He told her a chilling story about being out there one night with some high school buddies. They had used a Ouija board and called her name. Nothing happened, and they were about to give up when the light from the full moon seemed to dim. Then, they saw her rising from the river with her long hair covered in slime, cascading in twisted strings down to her waist and her cotton dress dripping with brackish water. Her skin was a putrid shade of ashen gray and bloated, and her eyes glowed a yellowish-green as if they had swallowed up moon’s light. She had opened the black cave of her mouth as if trying to speak to them...but when she got within a few feet of them, they lost their nerve and bolted.

  Opal didn’t know if the story was true, but she certainly didn’t want to run into anything so gruesome herself. She was already on edge. Fear prickled her skin, and her ears were perked for any sound of someone...or some thing...approaching. But, she had work to do and knew that her time was limited.

  She trekked down the right towards the gardens. After she passed the vegetable garden, she glimpsed the wrought iron arbor ahead. And through it, she saw a glimpse of the stone fountain. It looked just as it had in her nightmare.

  But, this time, it didn’t glow an ethereal green—the moon cast an eerie orange-ish light about it. There was a pool of water in the lower tier, shimmering like molten-hot silver. It might as well have been blood marking the spot. She knew from Crawford’s journal that MargaretCrawford had been drowned there. And her killer—the spirit himself—was buried below its base.

  The arbor had a prickly bare rose vine twined around it. Weary of any thorns that might reach out and grab her, she ducked as she ran through. Then, she rolled up her sleeves and got to work. After propping her flashlight up on an empty flowerpot, she got out her shovel.

  With the first thrust, the tip of the blade seemed to hit solid rock. After several more frustrating tries, she paused and leaned against the handle. It was only the end of October—the ground shouldn’t be frozen for a few more weeks.

  Determined, she redoubled her efforts and threw all of her might into each stab at the hard earth. After a few minutes, sweat mingled with the carnival glitter on her cheeks. But, she didn’t give up. She was determined to dig down to the spirit’s bones if she had to spend all night out there and do it with a spoon.

  But, two hours later, she only had a hole about a foot deep when she heard a car and saw the faint glow of headlights from other side of the garage.

  She dropped the shovel from her bruised hands, clicked the flashlight off, and sat crouched in the darkness.

  There were voices—a man and a woman.

  Could she risk staying and keep working with just the moonlight? It didn’t take more than a second to realize how foolhardy that idea was. She remembered how the spirit had nearly squeezed the life out of her. If he found her here again, she would surely die on the spot—just like Margaret and Virginia.

  She packed the shovel in her bag. Then, she ran through the thorny rose brambles and worked her way east around the far side of the property until she got back to the road.

  When she felt that she was a safe distance away from the house, she stopped and looked back. She whispered to the memory of old WilliamCrawford. “You told me in your journal how you killed AlphonsoGiovanni. Now...tell me how I can kill him again.”

  Chapter 64

  “Thank you,” the spirit said as he opened the car door for Georgia.

  “For what?” She stepped out, careful to keep from catching the heavy folds of her dress.

  “For allowing me to escort you to the carnival. You have no idea how much it meant to me to get out and mingle with the townspeople tonight.”

  She inhaled a deep draught of the night air, still remembering the scent of caramel apples and pumpkin spice.

  The stars twinkled above as they walked towards the porch. The front light was out, but the darkness didn’t bother her. On this enchanted night, she felt drunk with happiness. It was an unreal, but warm feeling to be back in her hometown with such a wonderful man at her side.

  When they neared the door, he paused. “Dance with me...”

  “Here? In the dark? With no music?”

  His lips grazed the lobe of her ear. “Do you know how many years it’s been since I last danced?”

  “Last week? I imagine you’ve got a dozen girlfriends around town.”

  He took her hand, holding it up to his chest and circled her waist with the other. “No, mio caramella. It’s been a miserable century since I held a woman like this.”

  She laughed and let him begin to sway her body back and forth. With his eyes twinkling in the faint light of the moon, feeling the warmth of his body pressed so close to hers and the intoxicating sweetness of his breath against her cheek...she felt like a cobra being charmed from the emotional safety of its basket.

  “If only we had an organ or a piano...and someone to play it. But no matter...we can dance to the beat of my heart. It has quite a rhythm these days.”

  “You’re such a romantic. I never know when to take you seriously. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  “And I’ve never met anyone like you.”

  Georgia’s emotions vacillated between exhilaration and a strange sadness. It was wonderful to have this attention, but there were still bleeding wounds inside. It hadn’t been that long since she’d been knocked out in a 1-2-3 punch from the divorce. As Daniel invaded the sanctity of her barriers, her inner bruises winced.

  Even without the light to see him clearly, her mind drank in every detail of him as they danced in the shadows on the porch...his sparkling green eyes, his locks of sexy dark hair, and his strong lithe body with its tight muscles that seemed made from stone from his labors in the gardens.

  They danced in silence. Then, he began to hum softly in her ear, creating his own music for their bodies to follow. The sweetness of it almost made her cry. No one had ever given her this kind of intense attention...not in her entire life.

  For a moment...with him in his antique groom’s suit and her in the fanciful white gown...it seemed as if they might be dancing at their wedding. His rough cheek melded into hers, and she felt a strange warmth coming not only from his skin...but a pulsing heat from his heart.

  She didn’t want this evening to end. If only she could spend the rest of her life dancing here in the darkness and forgetting everything else in the world.

  He paused for a moment and looked into her eyes, holding her stare until she blinked. At that moment, she thought she saw a spark—a bright pulse of light coming from their green centers. It certainly must have been her imagination.

  Chapter 65

  The spirit released Georgia from his arms and spun her away from him, pausing when she was at arm’s length. Then, he pulled her back, pivoting her body around until she stopped millimeters from hi
s face...their cheeks so close that the fine invisible hairs on their skin touched and tickled every pore of his reborn skin.

  Enjoying the slow art of seduction gave him the willpower to take his time with her. “It’s late...I must let you get to bed,” he whispered as he reluctantly loosened his grip around her waist.

  “Hmmm...” she moaned. “Yes...late.”

  His lips paused near her ear. Then, they traveled around to her cheek. “You know I can’t sleep without my evening walk. I’ll see you later?”

  She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “Goodnight, Daniel.”

  He hugged her, pressing their bodies close together. Then, he kissed her softly on the cheek, letting his lips linger a couple of seconds afterwards. Their web of intertwined fingers from the dance seemed to break apart strand by strand as he let her unlock the door.

  “Buona notte.”

  Though, he had been a bit bold this evening...he knew that any doubts in her mind would be written off to the sorcery of this magical evening.

  He stepped down out of the house’s shadows and into the moonlight, took a deep breath, and smiled. He didn’t need to kill tonight. He felt well...in fact...he felt better than he ever had. Maybe being so close to Georgia and gaining her affection was doing him more good than he knew. But, even with her nearness, he doubted that he could go very long without weakening again. What was it going to take...20...30...500 lives before he was a whole man again?

  He sighed as something drew his attention back towards the gardens. Was it a sound? A scent?

  Once again, he found himself drawn to the fountain. He walked around it until he came to a spot where the soil felt unusually soft under his feet. He bent down and examined the area, noticing a circle of loose dirt.

  Someone had been there...digging. But who and why?

  It was too big of a hole to be a nut-burying squirrel or a mouse-chasing fox. Had it been the Fortune Teller? Or, had it been one of Georgia’s snooping relatives?