Emma glanced quickly off to Gino’s right, to where Granny was standing, to acknowledge the spirit, but said nothing.
“When I went up to check on her like you asked,” Granny said to Emma, “she was sitting by the window, crying. Then that Marta came in with a tray of food but Vanessa hardly touched it. After just a few bites, she took a pill and went to bed.” Granny shook her head. “I’m not real fond of that woman, but I feel bad for her and for Gino here. She’s troubled and he seems at a loss over what to do about it.”
Emma glanced at Gino and saw that he was looking out toward the lake. She turned her eyes back to Granny and mouthed, “What about the ghosts?”
“What?” Granny asked. “I didn’t hear that.”
Discreetly, Emma pointed at Gino, hoping that Granny picked up that she couldn’t say anything out loud. Phil saw the gesture and started chuckling, knowing that Emma was trying to communicate with Granny and that Granny was being stubborn about it. He stuck the cigar between his lips to stifle the noise.
“The ghosts?” Emma mouthed again with silent emphasis on the last word.
“Oh,” Granny said, spreading her arms open with enthusiasm. “You want to know about the ghosts.”
Emma nodded with quick, short jerks of her chin, then stopped suddenly when Gino turned around to face them.
“I did see that Blaine again,” Granny said, moving closer to Emma, “and told him you would seek them out as soon as you can but it might not be until tomorrow. I also told him not to pop in on you in your bedroom. That you hate that.”
Emma smiled her thanks to the spirit. Next to her, Phil rocked and smoked, a knowing grin plastered on his face.
“Well,” Gino said, straightening and putting out his cigar. “I’m going to turn in. You folks feel free to sit out here as long as you want.”
“Thanks, Gino,” Phil said. “I’d like to sit a few more minutes and finish my cigar.” To emphasize his words, Phil happily waved the tobacco in a salute. “And thanks again for the book. I’m really looking forward over the next few days to seeing how you research and develop an idea.”
“Yes,” said Emma, turning her attention to Gino. “We can get to work right after breakfast.”
“Sounds good,” Gino confirmed.
“By the way,” Emma said just before Gino went inside. “Is it safe to take a run along the road we came in on? I like to run in the morning before breakfast.”
“Should be,” Gino answered. “It might be pretty damp in the morning, but you shouldn’t be bothered by anyone and traffic should be sparse. You may see a few animals stirring about, mostly fox and deer and small critters, but nothing dangerous. The small path by the garage that leads to the old house might be a good start. I walked it the day before yesterday. A ways past the old house, it circles back to the main road, giving you a nice loop. Just turn left when you hit the asphalt and you’ll be heading in the right direction to come back here. I’m not sure how far it is exactly, but I’d say at least a two-mile loop.”
“Great,” she said with a smile.
• CHAPTER FOUR •
IT was barely sunrise when Emma and Phil donned their running clothes the next morning. The big farmhouse was quiet. Before the run, Emma went into the kitchen to snag a banana for each of them from the bowl of fruit she’d spied after dinner and was surprised to see Marta already bustling around the big gleaming room.
“Good morning, Marta,” Emma said to the housekeeper, who was busy chopping a hunk of beef into cubes with a meat cleaver.
Marta glanced up briefly from her work and muttered a “good morning” back, but didn’t look directly at Emma. She went back to chopping the meat. Emma was sure that had Marta’s hands not been occupied, she would have reached for her crucifix. “I am sorry, Mrs. Whitecastle, but coffee is not ready yet. I didn’t expect you so early.”
“Nothing to apologize for, Marta.” Emma went to the big fruit bowl and picked two bananas. “And please call me Emma.”
“That would not be proper, Mrs. Whitecastle, and Mrs. Costello would not like it.” Finished with the butchering, Marta turned her cleaver loose on a pile of peeled vegetables that included potatoes, turnips, onions, and carrots, deftly reducing them into nearly identically sized chunks.
“What are you making so early in the morning?” Emma asked.
“Beef stew for lunch. It has to cook for a long time to be good, so I must start now. Mr. Costello likes my stew.” Again she glanced at Emma without making eye contact. “But don’t worry, I will make a nice vegetable stew for you and Mrs. Costello. But it doesn’t need to cook as long.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Emma told the woman with a smile.
“Would you like breakfast now?” the wary housekeeper asked. “I can start the oatmeal in a few minutes.”
“No, Marta. Phil—” she started to say, then changed course to the more formal tone preferred by the housekeeper. “Mr. Bowers and I are going for a short morning run first. I just came in to get some bananas for a little energy boost. We’ll eat breakfast after, with the Costellos.”
“You run every morning?” the housekeeper asked in a monotone as she poured olive oil into a large, heavy stew pot on the stove and turned a flame on under it. “If so, I make sure you have bananas. Runners like that, yes?”
“Thank you, Marta. That would be very nice.”
Out on the porch that faced the driveway, Emma found Phil lacing up his running shoes. She handed him a banana. They ate in silence while listening to the woods around them bustle with early morning life. By the time they were finished, daylight had broken.
“This really reminds me of Julian,” Phil said when they were done, “except that the vegetation is more lush here. And I love how the house is surrounded by thick woods. At home we can’t have that due to fire hazards.”
“They get a lot more rain here than we do,” Emma noted. “And we don’t have near as many trees that turn color in the fall. Gino was right, we did come at peak fall foliage time.” She took a deep breath of the damp air, redolent with earthy richness. “Funny how it smells so alive, when the leaves are really dying.” The air was heavy with moisture, as Gino had said it would be. “I love morning smells and sounds,” she said. “It’s like a rebirth every day, no matter where you are.”
“Give me your peel,” Phil told her. “I think I spotted covered garbage and recycling bins at the side of the garage when we drove in yesterday.” They got up and walked toward the garage. After stashing the peels in the garbage, Phil and Emma started off down the small road at a slow jog.
They hadn’t gone far when they came across a clearing covered with low vegetation and wild grass. They stopped and looked around. “I’ll bet this is where the old barn used to be,” Phil said. He left the road and walked around the area.
“I think you’re right,” Emma said. “From the aerial photos in the album, it would have been right about here.”
“It’s almost like a small meadow,” Phil noted, “but look at the tree line.” He pointed to the surrounding trees, a thick mix of maple and birch. “It has an unnatural shape to it, too even and defined, and the few trees in the clearing are much younger.” He moved closer to the woods. “And there are lots of small boulders in the wooded area and none in the clearing. I’m pretty sure this area was cleared on purpose.”
Emma smiled as she watched Phil. Before meeting him, she knew very little about the outdoors and plants and animals, except for the potted plants and shrubs used to landscape homes. He had taught her a great deal about wildlife and nature in their time together, and she’d been a very willing student.
“Sh,” Emma said sharply. Her smile dropped from her lips as she went on alert.
Phil turned to Emma and saw that her eyes were closed. She stood perfectly still, except for her breathing, which was deep and measured, her chest rising and lowering with sl
ow deliberation. Just as he became alarmed, worried that she was having another of her out-of-body experiences, she opened her eyes. “This is definitely where the barn was,” she said.
Phil returned to her. “Did you see anything?”
She shook her head. “No, but I got the same sense of humming that I had last night when I looked through the album.” Before they had gone to bed, Emma had told Phil about the photos and how some of them had produced a sound, like the ghost of a long-ago tune.
Emma left the path and walked into the clearing where Phil had been. As she went deeper into the area, the humming got stronger. She held her arms straight out to her sides, as if balancing, and said into the air, “Show yourself. I know you’re here. We mean you no harm.”
Phil watched carefully from the dirt road but did not move closer. As always, he was ready to protect Emma.
The humming around Emma grew stronger and for a minute she thought she could see the shimmering outline of a spirit in the early morning light. “Is that you, Blaine?” she asked, remembering the name Granny thought belonged to the young farmer. She continued keeping her arms straight out. Her mentor, Milo Ravenscroft, a noted physic and medium, once told her that this posture showed unfamiliar spirits that you meant them no harm, nor were you afraid of them. It was an open, vulnerable position, and it had worked for Emma in the past. Still, she received no answer. She stayed that way, facing the unclear spirit, hoping it would show itself, when she began seeing the outline of another spirit, then another. She couldn’t tell if they were male or female, only that they were near her. They came closer, then backed away, then approached again, only to retreat. Each time, the damp morning air around Emma grew chillier until goose bumps rose on her arms under the lightweight running jacket she was wearing. The shadowy spirits did this several times, coming and going, like waves on sand, until they backed away one last time and disappeared.
When Emma lowered her arms, Phil rushed to her side. “What happened?” he asked.
Emma took a few deep breaths. “There were several here. I couldn’t see them clearly, just hazy outlines. I don’t even know how many, but I think it was at least four or five.” Emma looked around, trying to see if they were still close, but she saw and sensed nothing but a light breeze moving in the trees. “The trees branches are moving from a breeze. The presence of several spirits could cause that,” she said to Phil.
Phil pointed to the woods on the other side of the road. “Those branches are moving, too,” he noted, “so either it is just a breeze, or we’re surrounded by a flurry of ghosts.” He pointed up. “The treetops are moving, too, so my money’s on a natural air current.”
“Yes,” Emma said, “I think our visitors are gone. Let’s keep moving. I’m dying to see what, if anything, turns up at the old farmhouse.”
When they were back on the road, Emma said, “Let’s walk, Phil. I want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”
“You got it,” he agreed, taking her hand.
They walked along the path at a quick pace, Emma keeping alert for any further signs of spirits. Phil looked the area over, too, but kept a close eye on Emma. They hadn’t walked far when Emma brought them both to a halt. “There,” she said, whispering. “Just to the left of the path is a spirit shimmer.”
“Are you sure?” Phil whispered back.
Emma nodded, then said out loud. “Please show yourself. We’re here to give you help, if you need it.”
“Relax,” came a familiar voice from their left side. “It’s me.”
Emma’s shoulders drooped as she let out the breath she’d been holding. “It’s just Granny,” she said to Phil.
“Just Granny,” the ghost parroted with indignation as she came clearly into view.
“You know what I meant, Granny,” Emma said to her. “We encountered some spirits earlier on the path, but they didn’t materialize or say anything. Have you seen any?”
“Not a soul,” the ghost answered. “Not even that Slim guy.” Emma turned to Phil and shook her head to convey Granny’s answer.
“Granny,” Phil asked, “have you been to the old farmhouse yet? It should be right around here, just past the clearing we passed.”
“I didn’t know there was one,” Granny answered. “Remember, I can’t go places I haven’t been before unless someone I know is there to draw me.”
Emma related the answer to Phil and quickly brought Granny up to speed on the photos and the humming sensation. “We’re heading there now, Granny. Gino said the present owner uses it as storage.”
“I checked in on Vanessa again this morning,” Granny told them. “She’s pretty sick.”
They’d just taken a couple of steps when Emma stopped abruptly. Tethered to her by their hands, Phil stopped, too. “What do you mean, Granny?” Emma asked. “How sick?”
“Green as pea soup,” the ghost reported. “She hardly touched her food last night, but she’s puking like crazy this morning. And she’s pale as a ghost, if you know what I mean.” Granny gave Emma a knowing look.
“What?” Phil asked.
Emma let the words sink into her skull, then asked Granny, “Are you saying that Vanessa Costello is pregnant?”
“What?” Phil asked again with surprise.
“Maybe, or maybe it’s just a bug,” Granny said.
“Did she look pregnant, Granny?” Emma asked.
“If she is, she’s not far along in her time.”
“What?” Phil asked a third time, now with impatience.
Granny cocked a thumb in Phil’s direction. “Better fill him in,” she told Emma. “He’s beginning to sound like some old fart who needs a hearing aid.”
Emma turned to Phil, still unsure of what to think about this possibility herself. “Granny says that Vanessa was vomiting this morning and looks pale.”
“Maybe it’s food poisoning and not a pregnancy,” Phil suggested. “Then again, she’s probably in her forties, so a pregnancy is not out of the realm of possibility.”
“True, or she could be starting menopause. Some women start earlier than others and get sick from it.” Emma gave it more thought. “Gino thinks Vanessa is about to leave him. Having a baby could change everything.”
“Providing she keeps it,” added Phil. “She might not at her age and if the marriage is about to end. This could explain her surliness last night. She might be trying to decide what to do.” He paused. “If Vanessa is pregnant, I wonder if Gino knows?”
Emma shook her head with sadness. “I’m guessing he doesn’t. Vanessa was drinking before dinner last night. I only saw her slowly sipping some wine, but mixing alcohol with sleeping pills is definitely not good for a baby. If Gino knew about the pregnancy, I think he would have stopped her. Or again, she’s not pregnant.”
“Well,” Granny said with pursed lips, “if she is pregnant, I’m thinking it might not be Gino’s bun in Vanessa’s oven.”
Emma turned quickly to the ghost. “Why would you say that, Granny?”
“After she got sick this morning, Vanessa called someone. I couldn’t tell who, but it definitely was not a business call. She was keeping her voice pretty low and sugary. She was miserable, but putting on a brave face for whoever was on the other end of the call.”
“What about Gino?” Emma asked. “Did you see him?”
“He was still asleep, as far as I could tell,” Granny reported. Emma passed Granny’s comments along to Phil.
Phil paced back and forth on the path. “This is none of our business, Emma,” he said, coming to a stop in front of her. “The Costellos are in the middle of some serious marital issues and I’m not comfortable being here. Nor am I comfortable using Granny to spy on them, even though it is convenient.”
“I like the spying part,” Granny said getting huffy. “Just call me double-o-ghost.” Emma did not relay those words to Phil.
&nb
sp; “Me either, Phil.” Emma reached out and stroked Phil’s upper arm. “Maybe I can give Gino all the background he needs today and then we can beg off the rest of the trip, say we need to get back. We could leave tomorrow and swing up to see Kelly before heading home.”
“I can certainly say something came up at my office, but aren’t Kelly and Tanisha coming here in a few days?” Phil asked, remembering what Leroy had told them.
“I can call Kelly,” suggested Emma, “and warn her about the drama going on here so they don’t make the trip. At least Kelly might be able to stay clear of it.” She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and looked at it, hesitating instead of calling. “Although it is pretty early to call.” Emma thought about sending Kelly a text, but changed her mind. She wanted to talk to Kelly in person.
“Aren’t you guys forgetting something?” asked Granny. Her arms were folded in disapproval and a schoolmarm scowl was carved on her face. When Emma turned her attention back to the annoyed ghost, Granny added, “The ghosts?”
“Granny,” Emma said with frustration, “I can’t help them if they won’t show themselves.”
“True,” Granny replied, “but at least take the time to meet Slim and see what he has to say. You’ve only been here a short time.”
“It’s true,” she said to both Phil and Granny, “we haven’t been here long and I still need to help Gino with his questions. Maybe today the ghosts of Misty Hollow will tell me what they want and it will be an easy fix.”
Phil snorted and grinned at Emma. “When has it ever been an easy fix, darling?”
Knowing Phil was right, Emma didn’t make a comment. Instead, she started walking in the direction of the old farmhouse. “Come on,” she called back over her shoulder, “we might as well finish our walk. Maybe the ghosts will show up somewhere along the way.” Even though Phil couldn’t see her, Granny gave him a shrug as they started off after her.
The Ghosts of Misty Hollow Page 5