Suddenly Psychic: Glimmer Lake Book One

by Hunter, Elizabeth

  Robin turned to Emma. “I think it’s up to her. But Grandma was pretty clear with the doctor and her home-health aide on this. She didn’t want any major medical intervention.”

  “But—”

  “Come here.” Robin took Emma’s hand and walked out of the side door that led to the rose garden where Helen had been basking in the sun a few days before.

  “I know it doesn’t seem fair.” Robin took Emma into her arms. “Trust me. I don’t want to let go of her either, but we have to respect what she wanted. She’s really old, Emma. And really frail. Her mind is all there, but she’s uncomfortable. She can’t do a lot of the things she enjoyed anymore, and she didn’t like being limited. She’d never want to be shut-in. She’d never want to live in a bed.”

  Emma’s eyes were red. She bit her lip and nodded. “Did Dad call Austin?”

  “Yeah. He’s driving down right now. So are Uncle Jack and Grandma’s brother, Uncle Raymond.”

  Robin wanted her boy. Whatever their arguments were, Austin was her boy and she wanted him close. She wanted all her friends and family close. She hugged Emma tight and felt her daughter’s arms wrap tight around her body.

  They walked back into Helen’s bedroom to sit with her. Emma found some of the big band jazz records that Helen loved and put one on the turntable.

  Robin was about to text Monica and Val when Mark poked his head through the door. She could tell by his eyes that he was as wrecked as she was.

  “Hey, Robin. Can you come out here for a second?”

  She nodded and left Emma with her great-grandmother. Her mother was sitting at the kitchen table across from a woman in wine-colored scrubs. They both rose when Robin entered the room.

  “Hey, Mom.” Robin walked straight to Grace and hugged her tight. “How’re you doing?”

  Grace’s eyes were red, and she looked tired. And sad. But mostly tired.

  “The nurse says…” Grace cleared her throat.

  The nurse, a smiling woman with light brown hair pulled into a braid, stepped forward and held out her hand to Robin. “My name is Lily. I’m so sorry to be meeting you all right now, because I know it’s hard, but I have to say I admire your grandmother so much.” Lily let Robin’s hand go. “She is so independent and so sharp. She and Dr. Cramer contacted hospice about five months ago.”

  “Hospice? Five months ago?” Robin looked at her mom. “Did you know about this? What was going on? Was she sick? Why wouldn’t she tell us if she was sick?”

  “Hospice isn’t only for the dying,” Lily said. “It’s something Dr. Cramer recommended for Helen because your grandmother sensed that she was nearing the end and she didn’t want any extraordinary measures.”

  Robin was confused. “Mom, did you know about this?”

  Grace cleared her throat. “I suspected she’d arranged something. She could be so secretive.” Grace took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She’s almost ninety-six and she fell last year. Mother was very realistic about her health.”

  “As I said,” Lily continued, “Dr. Cramer and Helen reached out to us a few months ago and set everything in place for us to take care of her when she got to this point.” She smiled kindly. “So I think it’s safe to say that she might be feeling ready to go. The important thing right now is for her to feel surrounded by this family who obviously loves her so much.”

  “We’re here.” Mark put his arm around Robin’s shoulders. “It’s Helen. We’re here for her no matter what.”

  Lily smiled. “That’s what we like to hear. Just remember, this is a process. For her and for you. I and the other nurses are going to be here with all of you during that process. I’ve already contacted three of my best people to set up shifts so that someone will be with Helen around the clock from now on.”

  “So…” Robin felt her throat start to close up. “She’s dying? That’s what you’re telling us.”

  Lily smiled sadly. “She’s ninety-five, Mrs. Brannon. This is up to her now.”

  Grace sniffed. “Leave it to Mother to make permanent plans without consulting any of us.”

  Mark laughed. “She knew how to keep a secret.”

  Oh, you two have no idea…

  Robin felt like everything was happening at once. They’d gone from talking about getting Grandma Helen some live-in help to having round-the-clock nursing care in the space of a few hours. Was this how dying happened? Everything all at once?

  “What do we do now?” Robin asked the nurse.

  She felt adrift. She knew how to schedule her grandmother’s doctors’ appointments and how to get her in and out of cars comfortably. She knew what food Helen liked and how she liked her coffee prepared.

  But Robin had no idea how to help Grandma Helen die. She didn’t want Helen to die. As selfish as it might be, she wanted to keep her grandmother forever.

  “For now,” Lily said, “I want you to relax about any of the practical details. Don’t worry about helping her in and out of bed. Don’t worry about her medications or pain relief. We are here to take care of that. You need to focus on her.”

  Robin thought about her last conversation with Grandma Helen.

  “Are you happy here?”

  “I love this spot. I love the view. The house is too big. I told Gordon that, but he never listened.”

  “We need to make sure to keep the drapes open,” Robin murmured.

  “Good idea.” Mark squeezed her hand. “She loved the view.”

  “That’s great,” Lily said. “Play music she likes. You could read books to her, or letters from family. She might be in and out for a while, but even if she seems asleep, she’s still with you. She’s still processing all this, just like you are.”

  “Should we just plan on being here?” Mark asked. “I mean, it’s a big house.” He looked between Grace and Robin. “Why don’t we just bring stuff over and stay with her?”

  The wave of gratitude Robin felt almost knocked her over. Some men might balk at disrupting their lives to care for their wife’s dying grandmother. Not Mark. Not even for a second.

  Robin walked straight into his arms and didn’t try to stop the tears. Mark hugged her tightly.

  “We’ll be here.” He rubbed her back. “We’ll pack some things and move in.”

  Robin talked into his shoulder. “It could be days. Or weeks. We don’t know—”

  “It’s not like we’re moving across the state.” He stroked her hair back from her forehead. “It’s just across town. And she needs us. We’ll be here until… until she’s ready to go.”

  “Dad and I will do that too,” Grace said. “Besides, the holidays are coming. We should all be together.”

  * * *

  “We’re going to stay here?” Emma’s eyes were wide. “At Russell House?”

  “Yeah,” Robin said. “Your dad suggested it, and Grandma Helen needs us close. There’s plenty of space.”

  “Yeah but…”

  They rarely stayed at Russell House. A few times during holidays, or sometimes when the kids had been little. They’d had campouts in the front yard during summers and had spent countless hours at Russell House’s private beach.

  But living in the grand old mansion, all together?

  “Is Austin staying here too?”

  “Yes.”

  Emma stared out the window. “So we’re all staying here. Together. In Russell House.”

  Robin frowned. “Is everything all right?”

  “Do we have to stay on the third floor?” Emma was pale. “It’s cold.”

  “No. There are plenty of rooms on the second floor.”

  Emma nodded and seemed to relax. “Okay. That’s okay then.”

  Whoa. What was going on? “Em, is everything okay?”

  “I just had really scary nightmares when I stayed here as a kid. But I know it was my imagination.” Emma shook her head. “And it was only on the third floor. I’m not little anymore. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Robin was reminded of the eeri
e hallway that led to the attic. She let her daughter wander back to the kitchen where Grace was already cooking chili. She walked outside and called Monica.

  She picked up after two rings. “Hey. Mark already called me and Val when he went to the house to get your stuff. What do you need?”

  “Company maybe? But I don’t want to bother Val. I know she’s busy.”

  “She’ll be there when she can. She was finishing homework duty with the boys. I’ll bring a breakfast casserole over so you guys have some backup for tomorrow.”

  “I love you so much.” She blinked back tears. Everyone needed best friends like Monica and Val. Everyone.

  “Is Emma there? Does she need to go anywhere for school or anything? Do you need help driving?”

  “No, she’s here. She’s okay. But…” What to make of Emma’s reaction to staying at Russell House? What to make of her nightmares and reluctance?

  “What is it?”

  Robin glanced over her shoulder at the hulking mansion overlooking Glimmer Lake. “Monica, I think there’s something weird in this house. I don’t know what it is, but I want to find out.”

  “We’ll get together and sort it out tomorrow with Val,” Monica said. “Right now, focus on your mom and the family.”

  “Okay.” Just as Monica was hanging up, Robin spotted lights turning in to the driveway.

  Austin’s old Jeep bounced around the circular driveway and came to a stop by the front door. He jumped out of the car, and Robin saw his expression. All the typical arrogance was stripped away. He was her boy again, not a boastful, half-grown man who thought his mom didn’t know her ass from her elbow.

  A thousand memories flooded her.

  Austin in her arms while her mom and Grandma Helen showed her how to breastfeed. A toddler bumping down the steps at Russell House, too impatient to wait for help down the stairs. Her little boy running across the lawn and down to the lake, bringing Grandma Helen a tiny bouquet of dandelions.

  “Mom.” He looked like he was about to cry.

  Robin opened her arms, and Austin nearly ran into them.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come back last summer.” He sniffed against her shoulder. “Grandma Helen asked me if I wanted to stay here and—”

  “Buddy.” She hugged him tight. “She understood. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

  “I called her last week.”

  “Did you?” She kept her arms around him. Austin hadn’t hugged her like this since he was eleven. “That’s great. I bet she loved that.”

  “Not really.” He sniffed. “She tried to be polite, but she mentioned a couple of times that she’d rather I wrote.”

  “Well, she is kind of deaf.”

  Austin let out a watery laugh. “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you too.”

  Chapter 22

  It was nearly midnight when Robin had a chance to sit with Helen again. The house was quiet, Mark had set up a temporary office in the old library, Emma and Austin had settled into rooms on the second floor, and Robin’s mom and dad were in the old master bedroom.

  Robin sat next to Helen, holding her hand and listening to records spin.

  “We love you so much,” Robin said softly. “So much. Did you know that? I hope we showed you enough. I know Grandfather Russell wasn’t a loving man, but I hope your kids and grandkids showed you how much we love you.”

  The soft sound of a piano recording filled the room, and Robin paged through a box of old photographs Grace had brought to Helen’s room.

  “Look at you,” she said softly. “What a stunner.”

  Her grandmother’s eyes winked out at her from a black-and-white photograph. She was leaning against the hood of an old Packard in a pair of slim black pants and a button-down white shirt, one hand on her hip. “Look at you in those pants, Helen Moore. What a rebel you were.” Whose car was it? Would her mom recognize it? Could it have been Billy’s? There was no way of knowing.

  “Billy Grimmer told me he’d walk through fire to see you smile,” Robin murmured. “Did you know that? Did he tell you that?”

  Helen’s eyes flickered behind closed lids, as if she was dreaming. She’d woken for a few moments and eaten a little broth, but that was all she wanted.

  “I guess I don’t have to explain that to you anymore,” Robin said. “Don’t have to worry about you thinking I’m crazy for seeing ghosts.

  “Billy showed me your cabin,” Robin continued. “I haven’t gone in it yet. I’ll go back with Monica and Val. See what we can find.” She put the box of photographs on the dressing table next to the bed and noticed a cigar box under a pile of magazines.

  “You take up smoking in your wild older years, Grandma?” She moved the magazines and books off the cigar box and opened it.

  Letters. There were dozens of them. Robin opened one, expecting to see Uncle Raymond’s name, but that wasn’t the name she found. Her eyes went wide when she saw the signature.

  Your man,

  BG

  “Holy shit.” Robin shuffled through the other letters. There were dozens of them, all written to HM from BG. “Grandma, where did you hide these?”

  She must have gotten them out after she and Robin had talked the last time. Despite Grandma Helen saying she didn’t want to think about sad things, Billy Grimmer was clearly on her mind.

  Robin sorted through the old cigar box, putting all the letters on one side and keepsakes and other miscellany on the other. Billy had written Helen dozens of love letters. There were also two pictures at the bottom of the box, along with a postcard, a dried flower, a ribbon, and two tickets to Casablanca.

  The pictures were interesting. There was a picture of three boys, one of whom was Billy Grimmer. The other two she didn’t recognize, but they might have been his brothers. They were standing next to a giant saw blade in the woods. The second was a picture of Helen leaning against a tree by the river. The postcard was from Reno and only had Billy’s initials on the back. There was also a sketch of Billy smiling. From the style of drawing, Robin knew her grandmother had sketched it. The expression was happy. Intimate. Joyful. It was a smile between lovers.

  Robin opened a few of the letters and skimmed. Some of them were flowery, but most were light and news filled, talking about what was happening with Billy’s family or what was happening at the dam. The cabin was mentioned more than once. It was the place they met on the weekends when Billy could manage to get away.

  He called her his “best girl” and spoke often about when the dam was finished and where they would go. Billy was full of plans and promises. He wanted to save enough to buy a little farm “near a river where the light is clear.” He talked about Helen teaching painting and drawing classes. Talked about wanting “four or five kids” who looked just like her.

  For a moment Robin put herself in her grandmother’s shoes and thought about how devastating it must have been. None of these plans had come to pass. Billy and Helen hadn’t bought a little farm near a river. They hadn’t had children together. Her grandmother had never taught drawing or art. She’d lived her life in the rigid social construction demanded by Gordon Russell, who had found her crying and alone, abandoned and pregnant with Billy Grimmer’s child.

  What happened, Billy?

  The last letter in the box was nearly torn from being open and folded so often. It was smudged with what Robin guessed were tears.

  “Best girl, I know you’ll meet me at our place on Friday, but this time I want you to be ready. I’m done with this valley, this dam, and this town. We need to leave. Too many of the men here are the wrong sort. Be careful, Helen. Stay home or only go out with your brother this week. Can you do that for me? Some of them have been hanging around town. I don’t want to scare my best girl, but be careful. For all of us. Come this Friday, we’ll be together. I have a plan.”

  It was signed BG and dated September 1944, the same month the dam was finished and the town of Grimmer was officially abandoned.

  “I was going wi
th them. I’m sure of it. But there was some place I needed to be first. And then…”

  Billy had needed to meet Helen. He’d needed to meet the woman pregnant with his child so they could leave town, meet his family, and buy their little farm on a river. But he’d never shown up because he’d been kept from her. Chained in an abandoned mine and lost at the bottom of Glimmer Lake.

  But by whom? And why? Who were the “wrong sort” Billy had written about? Had one of them been his murderer? And why had it been seventy-five years until the truth of Billy’s death had emerged?

  * * *

  Robin strode into the night, holding her sketchbook and the cigar box of letters in her arms.

  “Billy!” She walked into the trees and sat on a bench near the path, frantically sketching the man who had abandoned her grandmother. “Billy Grimmer, you better show your face,” she muttered.

  She pictured him in her mind, the ghostly image she’d seen along with the pictures in the library, the sketch her grandmother had made. Every portrait and picture had captured a piece of Billy Grimmer, but she needed to capture the whole.

  She opened up her mind and her heart. She sank her feet into the earth and took a deep breath. She felt like the mountain air was expanding her from the inside out. The night filled her, and she could see Billy’s image clear as crystal in her mind. Her pencil flew over the page, lines and curves taking shape as she drew Billy’s spirit to her.

  As the portrait came to life beneath her pencil, she felt him. At first it was just the sense of him. The flicker of his eyes and the line of his jaw. Then she felt him, his confusion and longing. Robin closed her eyes and concentrated. When she looked up again, she caught the outline of his ghost standing at the edge of the forest. Billy was there, staring at the house and looking lost.

  “I just want her to know I tried,” he said softly. “I tried so hard.”

  Robin put down the sketchbook and held up the letters. “I found your letters. I know you were trying to leave with her. What stopped you? Who killed you, Billy?”