Her rational voice made a point (if talking to herself in the middle of the night counted as any sort of rational). She was scared of all kinds of things she knew weren’t actually dangerous. So why didn’t she lie awake at night trying to justify her fear of them? Or try to convince herself that she wasn’t actually afraid?
Beside her, Michael shifted and his arm tightened around her waist. She listened to the sound of his slow, steady breathing and realized that he was already asleep.
Because of him, she realized. Not just him, but because of Trevor and Gavin and Luke... and even because of her own experience.
She, of all people, should understand and want to reach out to those spirits. After all, she knew firsthand how it felt to stand in a room full of people only to have every eye pass through her as though she didn’t even exist. She’d never wanted to hurt or to spook any of the people around her. She just wanted answers. She was frightened and confused and so alone.
That was probably how most, if not all, spirits felt. If anything, those ghosts should be pitied, not feared. But even as she repeated that to herself in her mind, she still shivered at the thought of an unseen presence wandering silently across the shadows of her room. Although she was fairly certain that she and Michael were alone, she knew that Sterling Hall wasn’t far. He would be upset. He would be angry. And he’d more than likely want the truth.
Too bad Brink couldn’t see other ghosts. Kate would have had him come and stand guard while she tried to get some sleep.
Hey! You’re not scared of Brink, the little rational voice reminded her.
Perhaps it was because she was so exhausted, but she felt an odd sense of triumph. Maybe she wasn’t scared of ghosts, not all ghosts anyway. Maybe she was only scared of a select few, Sterling Hall being one of them. She had been scared of Trevor also, back before she knew why he was haunting her apartment.
Honestly, though, Trevor had stalked their apartment for months, trashing it, pacing back and forth in the middle of the night, and feeding off of Gavin’s energy, draining him of his health. Of course he’d scared her. That kind of supernatural activity would have scared anyone.
But Sterling Hall was worse. Much worse. The way he made her feel during those attacks, it was more than nausea and physical discomfort. There was something emotional about his assault as well, almost like he was trying to inflict onto them the same pain and isolation and loss which he had endured for decades. In her mind, Kate had felt trapped, crushed, and weighed down by something that would never let her escape. She could handle the flu-like symptoms. She’d endured far worse and lived. But that dreadful sense of hopelessness and abandonment, it was pure despair, more miserable than any physical ailment. If that was what Sterling Hall had lived, or perhaps the more appropriate term would be “existed,” with for all those years, it was no wonder that he’d allowed himself to believe that he was still alive and well, just waiting for his love to return to him.
Joanna.
For a woman so adored that a man had devoted his heart, his soul, his entire existence to proclaiming his love for her, Kate found it strange how little they actually knew about Joanna Stanton. They knew that she had been the daughter of a fisherman, that she had married Sterling Hall, and that she had died a few years after their wedding. Her story was something of an empty shell. They knew all of the facts, but what had driven Joanna in life? Her love for Sterling? Perhaps painting, or maybe walks down by the river? Had she spent her days inside the manor, relishing the temple that Sterling had constructed for her? Or had she been more of a free spirit, running barefoot through the forest?
Maybe if they knew more about her, they would be able to contact her. Unless, of course, she’d already moved on. But would she have gone on without her husband? It was a possibility. It was a romantic notion, that ghosts might wait around for their spouses or significant others to join them, but Kate knew that wasn’t always the case. And part of her didn’t think it should be. Although she wished she’d had more time to talk with Trevor, she was glad that he was at peace, and that his love for her hadn’t kept him from Heaven or Paradise or whatever was waiting for them on the other side.
Having lost herself in her thoughts, Kate finally felt her body begin to relax. Anxious to embrace sleep, she snuggled closer to Michael, closed her eyes, and breathed him in.
Her movement stirred him slightly, and she heard him whisper, “Kate...”
“Mm-hmm?” she murmured.
“...Love you...”
Kate felt her heart melting. “I love you, too,” she whispered back.
But he was sound asleep. Kate wondered if he’d actually been awake to begin with, or if he’d just spoken her name in his dreams. She smiled, wondering why she’d ever thought she had anything to fear. And finally, just as the sky outside began to glow with the pale shades of early morning, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 21
By the next morning, Michael was beginning to suspect that he and Kate were not the only ones ready to return home and leave Stanton Hall Manor once and for all. No one was in a very good mood. Although Kate assured him that no one blamed him, Michael couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault. His fault for seeing ghosts and for being stupid enough to talk to them. His fault for disturbing everyone in the middle of the night. His fault for agreeing to come in the first place.
Only Luke seemed as cheerful and optimistic as ever, and for the first time, it didn’t get on Michael’s nerves. He was actually grateful for Luke, because as long as someone was happy, there was the slightest chance that the whole awful experience hadn’t been for nothing.
“Alright troops, here is the plan,” Luke announced, not sounding a bit like a person who’d spent half the night provoking a distraught spirit into destroying what remained of the master bedroom. “As you all know, tonight is our last night here - ”
“Thank God,” Gail muttered.
“- and I would like to make it a special one, especially for our hosts. So, along with one last evening of absolute kick-ass ghost hunting, I’d also like to thank Mrs. Drake and Emily, not only for inviting us into their home, but for granting all of us, well me, anyway, the wish of a lifetime, by preparing them the best filet mignon they have ever tasted.”
“I didn’t know you could cook,” Kate remarked with a wry grin.
“One of my several not-so hidden talents,” Luke gloated. “Then after dinner, we get back to work. I was reviewing some of our footage this morning and we do have some good material, but Sterling seems to have made a habit of draining our cameras right before the really great stuff happens. So our goal for tonight is to make sure we get some absolutely can-not-believe-it, blow-your-mind, awesome evidence on camera.”
“You think we’ll be able to do that after last night?” JT asked.
“What happened last night?” Peter asked.
“Well, while all of you lazy loggers were catching up on your much-needed beauty sleep, the rest of us were actually trying to do our jobs, which is to communicate with spirits and find out what makes them tick or go bump in the night or whatever,” Luke answered.
“Luke, buddy, I say this with love, but you have had way too much coffee this morning,” JT muttered.
“Wrong. Haven’t had a drop. Now, we are going to have to take a trip into town for the food, unless someone knows where to get groceries around here, but considering how none of us actually live here, I’m going to guess that’s not as likely - oh! Hello, Carolyn.”
Michael turned to see their hostess standing in the doorway. She wore a black skirt and blazer, and her graying brown hair was pulled up into a tight bun.
“Good morning. I hope I’m not interrupting,” she greeted them.
“Of course you’re not. Is there anything we can do for you?” Luke asked.
“No, actually, thank you. I was just hoping I might have a word with Mr. Sinclair.” Her tone was conversational enough, but the way she said his name reminded him of how adults tal
ked to kids when they wanted to “discuss” something.
Uh-oh, Michael thought as all eyes turned on him.
He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. Maybe she’d seen the damage done to the master bedroom and thought it was his fault. Or what if she’d found out about him spending the night in Kate’s room? He could assure her that nothing had happened, but maybe she was really old-fashioned.
He stood up, hoping he didn’t look guilty. Not that he really had anything to feel guilty about. Still, he was barely able to meet Kate’s eyes as he left the table to join Mrs. Drake in the hallway.
“Have you enjoyed your stay here?” she asked, leading him away from the kitchen and back into the parlor with the books and the globe and the fireplace.
The honest answer to that question was, “No, it’s been miserable, I’d rather amputate my own leg than spend one more night in this awful place,” but that might hurt her feelings. So instead he answered, “Oh yeah, it’s been great. I really love the uh... the decorations.” He didn’t know if he sounded convincing at all, but he figured it was something Kate might say to be polite. Then again, she was an interior decorator, so it would probably sound a lot more natural coming from her.
Oh well.
“That’s good. I thought I heard some commotion last night.”
Michael wasn’t sure how much Luke wanted him to say, or honestly, how much she really wanted to hear, so he just said, “Nothing out of the ordinary.” It was kind of true.
“Good. Very good,” Mrs. Drake said, closing the door to the parlor. “Now then, so much for small talk. What did you say to my daughter last night?” She changed the subject so abruptly that Michael wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.
“I’m sorry?” he asked.
“Emily told me that you spoke to her last night. I want to know exactly what you said.”
“Oh. Well, I... Um...” He’d been so caught up in the Sterling Hall fiasco that he had completely forgotten about his encounter with Emily the night before. Now of course, he remembered the meeting, but he had no recollection of what had actually been said. “I don’t know. We really didn’t talk for that long.”
“Well, you must have said something significant. This morning she could barely look me in the eye. It was only after she mentioned your name that I realized you must have said something to her, something about this house or the nightmares that it brings to life in her mind. You need to tell me what you said.”
Suddenly, the words exchanged with Emily rang as loud and clear in his memory as though he’d just spoken them.
“Is it true... That you can see them?”
“Yeah, it’s true.”
“Well, um...” Michael began, certain that Mrs. Drake was about to yell at him. “She asked me a few questions about um... them.”
“Your ghosts.”
“Yeah.”
“And what did you tell her?”
Michael considered a variety of answers before he replied, with a lot more confidence than he felt, “I told her the truth.” He was going to get in trouble anyway. He might as well go down swinging. “I told her that yes, I can see them. And that you’ve got one here in the house. And he’s... not happy.”
For a moment, Mrs. Drake’s face fell completely blank. Michael tried to read her expression, but he couldn’t tell if she was angry or relieved or confused, or perhaps somewhere in the middle. When she finally spoke, her voice was hushed and guarded.
“I don’t know if you actually believe that, or if you’re trying to mock me.”
“It’s not a matter of belief, Mrs. Drake, and I’m certainly not trying to mock you. But I think your daughter deserves to know the truth. I didn’t want to scare her or make things worse, but I’ve spent my entire life lying to people about what I see and what I hear. It wasn’t until this past year, meeting Kate and opening up to her and to Luke, that I’ve finally found some sense of, well, of freedom. I know what it’s like to have people think that I’m crazy and that there’s something off about me. But what makes it worse is being told by the people I love that they don’t believe me.”
Michael had no idea where he’d found the guts to say all that to the woman’s face, but he didn’t back down. He believed in what he’d said. If Emily was truly as terrified of Sterling Hall as she seemed to be, then she needed to be able to confide in her mother.
To his utter shock (and relief), Mrs. Drake’s eyes softened. “You really think that there’s something here?”
“I know there is, Ma’am.”
“Do you think it’s dangerous?”
That was a loaded question. Had Sterling caused them physical discomfort, illness, and injury? Yes. Did Michael think he would intentionally bring harm to Carolyn or her daughter? No.
“Not dangerous in the sense that he would hurt you. But I do think he’s unstable, and that he can, and probably will, make life here unpleasant.”
Mrs. Drake took a deep breath. Michael realized that she was struggling to fight back tears. “Can you help us?”
Again, Michael didn’t know how to answer her.
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I’ve tried - we’ve all tried - to make contact with him, to talk with him, but I’m not sure we’ve made very much progress.” That wasn’t altogether true. They had made some progress. He only hoped that they hadn’t done more harm than good.
Fortunately, Mrs. Drake seemed to accept that.
“I was only trying to do what was best for her. I was raised not to believe in such nonsense. In our family, ghosts were nothing more than folklore and fairy tales. I thought if I treated my daughter the same way, in a calm and rational manner, then she would never have to be afraid like this. It’s the last thing I ever wanted.”
“I think she knows that,” Michael told her.
Mrs. Drake nodded as she pulled out a handkerchief and dried her eyes. “Well, thank you for saying that. And thank you also for coming. I know I haven’t been the warmest of hosts, but I do appreciate your willingness to come up here.”
Michael wanted to tell her that he didn’t deserve her gratitude, but maybe, if he played his cards right, he could still earn it.
“I’m pretty sure Luke would have never spoken to me again if I’d refused,” Michael grinned. On that thought, why hadn’t he refused?
“He is quite the character, isn’t he?” Mrs. Drake asked.
“He’s one of a kind,” Michael agreed.
Just then, the clock on the wall began to chime.
“Oh dear, already nine,” Mrs. Drake sighed. “Time to begin my daily chores. I hope you enjoy your last day here, Mr. Sinclair.”
“Thank you,” Michael said. Watching her walk away, the image of Marian’s lost necklace suddenly flashed across his mind. “Oh, Mrs. Drake?”
“Yes?” She turned back.
“You haven’t found an antique garnet necklace around the manor, have you?”
“I haven’t. Has your girlfriend lost one?”
“Well, no. It wasn’t hers. It was Marian’s, the woman who was here last night. She uh, took it into the master bedroom and it just sort of vanished.” Even though Carolyn seemed a little more open to the idea of ghosts, Michael wasn’t sure she was ready to hear that they suspected one had stolen the necklace right out of their hands.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for it. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time something precious has gone missing in this place.” Then, she turned around and marched swiftly out the door.
Michael lingered behind a few moments before he also left the parlor and made his way back toward the kitchen, following the smell of fresh coffee and scrambled eggs. It was only then that he realized how hungry he felt. Maybe a good breakfast was exactly what he needed.
Hell, it definitely couldn’t make things worse –
“Somebody didn’t make it back to their own bed last night.”
- unless of course, he never got to eat it.
/>
Brink appeared, as he often did, completely out of nowhere and fell into step beside his best friend. The young ghost had a broad, cheeky grin plastered across his face. Michael knew he’d come to interrogate him about spending the night with Kate.
“Is there any way I could make you believe that I’d suddenly lost my ability to see you?” Michael asked.
“Dude, I don’t think you’re hearing me. I saw - ”
“Oh no, I’m hearing you perfectly, and I know what you saw, but there is nothing to talk about because it was totally innocent. She was scared and she asked me to stay. That’s it.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. Back up. What?” Brink asked.
“What?” Michael echoed. Brink was confused? Did that mean...? “Wait, who are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Gavin and Gail. Who are you talking about?”
“What?!” Michael yelped, much louder than he’d intended. “I mean... Yeah, I’m talking about them too.”
“Oh no you weren’t. Did you - ?” Brink’s face fell. “Oh my GOD.”
“No! No, it wasn’t like that. We just... ugh,” Michael moaned into his hands. “We had a stressful night, okay? I don’t know where you were... Well, yeah, I guess I do know where you were, but I just... I don’t even know how to begin explaining it to you.”
“Dude, it’s okay. Calm down.” Brink stuck his arm out and awkwardly moved it through Michael’s collarbone. “If I had real hands, I would be patting you on the shoulder right now.”
“Thanks,” Michael said. He may have been offbeat and a little reckless when it came to boundaries, but Brink was a good friend. He always had been.
“Are you okay?” Brink asked.
“Yeah, I am,” Michael responded honestly. “I’m just ready to go home.”
“Me too. Don’t get me wrong, this place is great and everything, but I like it when it’s just you and me. I’m tired of all these other yahoos thinking that you’re their best friend.”
“I didn’t know you got jealous,” Michael grinned.
“Well, yeah. I mean, I know that I exude charisma and a devilishly refined sense of fashion, but it’s hard to compete with guys who have cool cars and heartbeats...” Brink trailed off.
Between Worlds (Cemetery Tours Book 2) Page 16