Suddenly Psychic: Glimmer Lake Book One

by Hunter, Elizabeth

  “Go away,” Robin repeated. “Leave Helen alone. You are not welcome here.”

  The ghost morphed from her memory of an older man to the haughty visage of a young and angry one. “This is my house. I built this house, and every inch of it belongs to me.” The corner of his cruel mouth inched up. “I don’t know what you think you’re going to do, Robin Marie, but it won’t work. I built this house. I built this family. And you’re never going to get rid of me.”

  Chapter 28

  “Wrong,” Robin said. “You’re dead. You aren’t welcome here.” She stepped closer, Val and Monica on either side, herding the ghost toward the open window. “Leave, Gordon Russell. You are not welcome here.”

  He sneered. “This is my home.” The handsome visage turned ugly and angry. “My home! I built it!”

  “You built it from the blood of an innocent man and the life of a woman you didn’t deserve.” Robin blinked a tear from her eye. “You stalked Helen Moore. You murdered the man she loved. You lied to her and you tormented her son.”

  He lifted his chin. “This is my home. I’ll never leave.”

  Be firm, Lily had said. Remind them that they’re dead. They don’t belong with the living. Be firm.

  “Go away.” Robin spoke forcefully and took another step forward. “You are dead. You are not welcome here. Leave Helen alone.”

  He smiled again. “She’s almost mine.”

  The last shred of her patience snapped. The arrogance of him! Even dead, they hadn’t been able to escape him. “She will never be yours!”

  The shadow wavered, and a light switched on in Robin’s mind.

  “Helen was never yours,” she said quietly. “That’s why you’re so angry, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve never left her alone. You know she was never really yours.”

  The ghost flickered, just for a moment, and Robin knew she’d hurt him.

  “She was never yours, Gordon Russell. She never loved you. Not like she loved Billy. The most she would ever give you was gratitude. Gratitude for saving her from a future that you ruined. And gratitude isn’t love.”

  A wind whipped through the room, knocking over a candle in the corner.

  “I’m on it,” Mark said. “Keep doing your thing, Robin.”

  Robin kept her eyes on Gordon’s ghost. “She loved Billy. She never stopped loving him. You could follow her. Spy on her. You could even kill Billy and marry her. But she never loved you. Not for a minute.”

  “You stupid, silly little girl,” he said. “Shut your mouth. Children should be seen and not—”

  “Seen and not heard, yeah, yeah, yeah.” The outline of the ghost wavered, and Robin said, “Someone give me the sketch. He’s trying to get away. What are you doing, Gordon? You running away from a little girl?”

  Val shoved a paper in her hand and Robin clutched it. The outline grew clear again.

  “Time to face your sins, Grandfather Russell. You didn’t just kill Billy. You sent a postcard after he was dead so Grandma would think the man she’d loved had abandoned her. And even after that, she still didn’t love you.”

  “Get out!” the ghost shouted, and wind whipped through the attic. “Get out of my house!”

  “Nope.” Robin raised her chin. “Gordon Russell, you’re dead. This is not your house. This is our house now.”

  “Is he leaving?” Monica said. “Lily said if you spoke firmly and clearly, he should leave.”

  “Yeah,” Val said. “But I have a feeling that Grandpa Murderer isn’t too keen on letting Helen go after he’s been stalking her for over half a century. I have an idea.”

  Robin kept her eyes on Gordon’s ghost, never looking away. She barely even blinked. “Val, if you have an idea—”

  “Salt.” Val raised the salt gun and fired toward the window. “Am I getting anywhere close?”

  “A foot to the left.”

  “Fuck, this is so weird,” Val muttered. She shot three rapid bursts of salt straight through the ghost’s body. “Anything?”

  “He’s scowling at me and he winced a little,” Robin said. “He doesn’t like it. He moved another foot to the left.”

  Which put him right in front of the open window.

  Monica raised her rosary and threw a handful of holy water toward the window. “Anything?”

  “No, the salt seems to work better than the holy water.”

  The wind was picking up. It wasn’t in gusts now; it was a steady breeze that was growing in strength.

  “Monica, hand me that box of salt. I want to try something. Val, keep firing the gun. He really doesn’t like it.”

  “Right!” A blue cardboard box was shoved in her hand. Keeping her eyes on Gordon’s ghost, Robin knelt down. “Mark, hand me the knife.”

  Gordon’s eyes lit up. “Did you bring me one of my knives?”

  “You’re a pretty sick puppy,” Robin said. “I remember where you kept this knife collection. Did you enjoy displaying the weapon you’d used to kill Billy Grimmer over the living room mantel?” Robin asked. “You hung a murder weapon on the wall over the mantel where you kept your wedding picture, you sick bastard.”

  Gordon’s lip curled. “Language, Robin Marie.”

  Robin poured a circle of salt on the ground and set Gordon’s sketch in it. “I bet you loved thinking about it, didn’t you? I bet it killed you not to brag.”

  The ghost’s face was transforming from something recognizable into something dark, shadowed, and twisted in rage. “What are you doing?”

  “I asked you politely.” Robin grabbed the knife in her right hand. “And you didn’t leave. Aren’t you the one who always stressed manners?”

  “What are you doing, Robin Marie?”

  Robin placed her hand firmly on the sketch in the middle of the salt circle, keeping it from blowing away in the whipping wind that filled the room. With the sketch firmly in the circle of salt, Gordon’s ghost solidified. He stopped pacing.

  “He’s not moving anymore,” Robin said. “The salt works on the picture too.”

  He might not have been able to move, but he could definitely move things. More and more candles tipped over. Mark hurried to each one, blowing them out before they could catch fire.

  “You’d burn it all down, wouldn’t you?” Robin asked, staring at the man who had haunted her grandmother, her mother, even herself, for so many years. “I spent forty-five years walking on eggshells because of you. Taking up as little room as I could because you raised a woman who feared you. And she raised her daughter the same way.” Robin turned the knife in her hand. “No more.”

  She sliced a fine line through the sketch, across Gordon’s neck, and the ghost grabbed his neck. “Just like Billy Grimmer,” she murmured, watching the blood seep between Gordon’s fingers. “I can’t kill you like you killed him.”

  “Robin Marie,” he hissed. “Get to bed. Children should be see— Ggrhg.” The blood poured faster when Robin sliced again.

  “Get out of this house, Gordon.” Robin spoke clearly. “Leave Helen alone. Leave Grace alone. Leave all of us alone. We don’t belong to you, and we never did.”

  Gordon’s feet couldn’t move, but he twisted and shuddered in agony.

  “Leave, Gordon Russell.” Robin picked up a candle and lit the corner of her sketch. “This is not your home.”

  He screamed in rage, but as the thick sketch paper burned, Robin saw smoke rising from his feet. Then his legs. His torso and his arms were enveloped in smoke.

  “Robin Marie, don’t you—” His mouth turned to ash, and the last thing Robin saw was a pair of angry black eyes staring at her through a veil of smoke; then the shadow twisted through the open window and it was gone.

  Robin held her hand out. “Monica, you still have some water? I really don’t want to burn the house down, and these candles are making me really nervous.”

  “Yep!” Monica tossed a water bottle at Robin.

  “Is he gone?” Val asked.

  “I think so.”


  Mark sprang toward the window, slamming it down. He grabbed the salt and ran a line along the windowpane. “Val, maybe that sage stuff?”

  “On it.” Val grabbed a bunch of sage and put it in a small bowl they’d borrowed from the kitchen. “I have no idea what I’m doing right now.”

  Robin poured water on the black, curling scraps of the sketch, soaking it.

  “Don’t blow on the sage,” Monica said. “I watched some traditional healers on YouTube. Light it and let it smolder in the bowl. Let the smoke build, then move it over you, almost like you’re washing with it.”

  “Okay?” Val scooped up smoke with her hands and waved it over her head. “Robin?”

  She rose and used her hands to wash the pungent smoke over her body, scooping it and trying to picture the smoke pouring over her like water. “Monica?”

  “I got it.” Monica looked far more practiced. She’d obviously studied what to do. She murmured soft prayers as she smudged over her body. Then she picked up the bowl and walked to Mark. “Our faithful sidekick.” She grinned and wafted the sage smoke over Mark.

  “Let’s get the room.” Robin could already feel the difference in the attic. The earthen, moldy smell was gone, both from the fresh air from the window and the smell of the burning sage.

  Monica walked around the entire attic, waving and spreading smoke in the corners and along the edges. By the time Monica returned to the center of the room, Robin was looking out the window, staring at the starry night sky.

  “Did it work?” She glanced at Mark. “What do you think?”

  “I mean… I’m not gonna lie, that was weird as hell.” Mark nodded. “But whatever was in here—and there was definitely something in here—seems like it’s gone.”

  “Let’s clean up,” Val said. “I want to go visit Helen.”

  * * *

  Walking down to the third floor, they noticed the change immediately. Though the house was dark, the smell of baking wafted up the stairs and the air felt warm and cozy. Robin poked her head in the old nursery and saw the darkened room full of old toys and small beds. For the first time ever, she felt warmth and remembered laughter.

  “He’s gone.” She reached for Mark’s hand. “I think he’s really gone.”

  When the four of them entered the kitchen, the only one awake was Lily.

  The nurse turned wide eyes toward them. “Something happened upstairs.”

  Robin nodded. “I think the ghost is gone.”

  “Is it?” Lily looked around. “I felt something. Your grandmother’s room is warmer. I had to turn down her space heater.”

  “Did she wake up?” Robin harbored a faint hope that Grandma Helen’s wavering consciousness was a byproduct of Gordon’s interference. Maybe with Gordon gone…

  “No.” Lily smiled sadly. “In fact, according to the last nurse’s notes, she hasn’t opened her eyes in about twelve hours now.”

  Robin bit her lip to keep from crying. She nodded. Mark put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into his embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” Lily said. “But remember, she’s very tired. And she’s been surrounded by love for days now.”

  “Can we go in?” Val asked.

  “Raymond is in there, but I think he’s sleeping in the recliner.” Lily put a finger to her lips. “So just be quiet.”

  Robin and Mark, Val and Monica, entered Grandma Helen’s bedroom, where a dim lamp cast a golden glow around the room. Raymond was sleeping in the corner, his grey head peeking out from under a yellow blanket. Helen was sleeping, and it was the most peaceful Robin had ever seen her.

  The hospital bed they’d moved her to was partly raised, and Helen’s mouth was curved into a slight smile. Her hands were lying on either side of her body, fingers relaxed. The wrinkles lining her face seemed to fade in the soft gold light.

  Something flickered in the corner of her vision, and Robin turned her head.

  Billy was leaning against a wall, watching Helen sleep. The look on his face was adoring and tender. “Isn’t she the most beautiful thing you ever saw?”

  Robin smiled. “She’s pretty special.”

  “I know,” Mark said, his voice just over a whisper. “She was the first person who welcomed me into the family. Do remember that? Your mom and dad were kind of suspicious, but she was the best. She was so confused about my job though.” He smiled. “I think she still is.”

  Val and Monica dragged chairs from the sitting area so Robin and Mark could be close to Helen. Monica reached for the book on the bedside table and opened it. Val moved to the turntable to change the record.

  Robin clasped Helen’s hand and laid her cheek next to her grandmother’s on the crisp cotton sheet. “Billy never left you, Grandma. I know you don’t want to talk about sad things, but I want you to know that. He tried so hard to get to you and the baby.” She looked over her shoulder at Raymond, who was still sleeping like a stone. “He loved you so much,” she whispered. “He still does. He watched over you the best he could. I just wanted you to know that.”

  Grandma Helen took a deep breath and let it out, her mouth still curved in a smile.

  Mark looked at Monica. “What was she reading?”

  “A romance.” Monica wriggled her eyebrows. “Looks like a pretty racy one too.”

  Mark shook his head. “She was always full of surprises.”

  Val leaned against the far wall, not far from Billy’s ghost. “I think I want to be Grandma Helen when I’m old. Only I’m going to embarrass my children by having torrid affairs with much younger men.”

  “Embarrassing your children is the reward for raising them,” Monica said. “Gil and I tried to embarrass ours regularly.”

  “I miss Gil,” Mark said. “So damn much. Can you imagine how much better this would be if Gil were here?”

  “I know,” Monica said. “It pretty much sucks.”

  “Yeah,” Val said. “Robin, have you ever—”

  “I have never felt Gil anywhere.” She looked at Monica. “And I never want to.”

  Monica frowned. “If he was hanging around here, I’d be pissed. I can take care of myself. The kids and I will be all right.”

  Billy’s ghost moved from the corner to walk next to Helen’s bed. “She’s ready.”

  Robin bit her lip and fought back tears. She reached for Helen’s hand as Billy stood over her and held out his.

  Helen blinked her eyes open, sat up, and looked into his eyes. “You’re here.”

  Her spirit rose and appeared in an instant, standing next to the bed, looking down at her frail body.

  Her spirit, as Robin had always suspected, was in the vibrant prime of life.

  “I’ve been waiting,” Billy said.

  “I know.” Helen looked over at Raymond. She walked over and passed a ghostly hand over his forehead. “Do you see him, Billy?” Her voice was young and clear, brighter than Robin had never heard in life. “Isn’t he beautiful?”

  Billy was at her side, his own hand passing over Raymond’s forehead. “He’s wonderful, Helen. You raised a fine man.”

  “And my girl Grace.” She turned to Billy with a brilliant smile. “She’s so smart and funny. She’s just the picture of my mama. I love her so much. You’d love her too.”

  “Of course I would,” Billy said. “But I’ve been watching a long time, best girl. I’m pretty tired. You ready to go?”

  Helen looked around and locked eyes with Robin, who was staring straight at her. “Look at you. And you thought you were ordinary.”

  Robin smiled and swallowed hard. “Goodbye, Helen. I love you so much.”

  “Extraordinary.” Helen’s face was glowing. “Simply… extraordinary.”

  Helen’s and Billy’s ghosts grew brighter and brighter. Robin closed her eyes, and when she opened them, they were gone.

  Chapter 29

  Six months later

  April sunshine poured over the gardens at Russell House, casting shadows beneath the trees and flashing like diam
onds on the wind-whipped surface of Glimmer Lake. The deep blue water was warming up, and Robin saw boats dragging water-skiers in the distance.

  Mark shuddered. “Too cold.”

  “They’re young and senseless,” Robin said. “Hand me the hammer?”

  “You got it.”

  They were building a gazebo in a far corner of the front lawn that backed up to the manicured forests that surrounded Russell House. In the distance, Jake Velasquez was painting the bright red trim on the boathouse that would finish the face-lift he’d given the entire dock.

  When Monica had first approached Robin’s mother with the idea of turning Russell House into a bed-and-breakfast, Grace had been reluctant. She’d hesitated at the idea of partnering in a brand-new business when she was already retired.

  But Monica’s enthusiasm had convinced her. Russell House would be a bed-and-breakfast, an event venue, and the old house would uphold the tradition of the Russell family by adding something grand to the community of Glimmer Lake.

  Plus, Robin added, Grandma Helen always wanted more people around.

  “I think Grandma would have loved this.” Robin squinted as a delivery truck rolled into the driveway, carrying yet another shipment of furniture. Grace and Robin were slowly sorting through the enormous house, picking out pieces they wanted to keep, antiques they would sell, and things that would be repurposed in the new inn. If everything went according to plan, the inn would be finished in time for Christmas.

  When it was finished, Russell House Inn would have seven richly appointed master suites and seven smaller and more economical bedrooms with shared baths on the third floor. It would have a library and game room, a dining room with catering potential, and a formal room where guests could mingle, dance, or enjoy a cocktail after a day on the lake or the ski slopes.

  The inn would be the perfect place for a destination wedding or a romantic getaway. The gardens could host lavish parties in the summer and sumptuous holiday gatherings in the winter. Russell Lumber’s employee Christmas party had been their very first booking.