by K. J. Emrick
Darcy stiffened. “His name is Jon, Mother.”
Eileen ignored Darcy’s reaction. “What’s he like? Not that I would know, since you’ve never introduced us.” She was irritated by her mother’s accusation.
“Mom, we’ve only been dating a couple of months or so.” Darcy was annoyed to see the relief on Grace’s face that their mother was targeting her now. “He actually asked to come over tonight but I told him it was just family.”
Aaron rolled his eyes. Thankfully Eileen didn’t notice.
“I tell you what,” Darcy said to her mom, standing up from the table, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe we can have lunch together. Me, you and Jon. Okay?” She said goodnight to Grace and Aaron and walked out of the apartment, proud of herself for not rising to her mother’s bait. It might have been the first time in her life.
Chapter Seven
By the time she got back to Jon’s and he drove them to the police station it was almost midnight. They used Jon’s keys to get in the back door. The police force staffed only one or two officers each night, and right now both patrols were out on the streets somewhere. Jon showed Darcy the plain metal desk that Grant used to sit at, explaining the Chief had pointed it out to him when Jon had asked. It was just like all the others in the room, and it was someone else’s now, of course, but it should still hold a connection to Grant.
Darcy sat down cross legged right on top of the table. She levelled a look at Jon and said, “Don’t you dare make any jokes. This is necessary.”
“Of course it is,” he said drily. “How else would you do this but sitting your rear end on the desk?”
“You can leave if you want to. I know this sort of thing makes you uncomfortable.”
“Your rear end does not make me uncomfortable.”
She smiled at him. “Silly boy. You know what I mean.”
He shook his head. “I can handle it.” He moved back to lean against one of the other desks and crossed his arms over his chest, watching her.
Darcy nodded and then closed her eyes. There was no room to use the candles here, plus it would take too long to go and get them from home. She breathed deeply and tried to tap into the gray fog in the recesses of her mind that was her channel to the other side. She didn’t know how other people with her sort of gift did this. This was just how she did it. How she had taught herself to use her sixth sense.
In the mists of her mind’s eye, a figure appeared. She was surprised that she could feel Grant’s presence so quickly. A tall man, dark and shadowy, wearing a police officer’s uniform and waiting for her to say something.
“Are you Grant Peterson?”
The figure never spoke. It never moved. Yet it answered her.
Yes.
“Grant, we need your help. The fire at the Fender home. What happened the night of the fire at their manor house? Did you see Angelica in the building?”
Yes.
Chills ran up Darcy’s spine. The connection was very, very strong. Whatever Grant knew, he desperately wanted to help her. “Grant, this is important. Angelica’s daughter, Sarah, is troubled. She thinks there’s more to the fire and her mother’s death. Did you see Angelica die?”
No.
Okay, Darcy thought to herself. That was less than helpful. “What did you see?”
Tried to save her, tried to help her.
“What did you see?”
She was there in the house standing waiting for me, standing there. She waited for me until I saw her, waited for me then ran back into the flames, ran back in.
“She went back into the flames? Into the fire?”
Yes.
“Is it possible she got out another way?”
Grant’s spirit swirled and shifted. He didn’t know.
“Thank you, Grant. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
Not done, more to tell.
“More?” Darcy got excited and had to force herself to stay calm to keep the connection alive. “What is it?”
Someone else in the flames, saw them, think I saw them, another person standing in the flames.
“Someone else? Who?”
Look for the man who was there in the flames, I think.
“You think you saw someone else?”
Yes.
Jon’s voice interrupted her. “Someone else? Who?”
Darcy’s eyes snapped open and the mists cleared away and Grant was gone. She reached for him, felt for him, but he’d said all he wanted to say. He was gone.
“Jon,” she said in frustration. “You can’t talk to me when I’m doing that. The connection with these spirits can be very fragile.”
His face fell. “I’m sorry, Darcy. I didn’t think.”
“No, it’s okay. I should have told you. I think Grant was done anyway.” Darcy filled him in on what Grant had told her. “I’m not sure what it means. It doesn’t prove she’s alive or dead, really. And the idea that someone else might have been in the house with her? What do you make of that?”
He shook his head. “Since when should it be easy?”
She couldn’t argue with that.
Chapter Eight
The butterflies were fluttering wildly in Darcy’s stomach as she brewed tea and arranged some cookies on a plate. She took the plate to the table, barely missing stepping on Smudge once again. He’d been under her feet all afternoon. “Cat, you need to stay out of my way.”
Earlier in the day she had called Linda and asked her and Sarah to come over. She was really worried about telling them what she had found out. This was always the problem with a request like this. She never knew what she was going to find out and when people started digging into the past the answers weren’t always ones that people liked.
When there was a knock on the door just fifteen minutes later her heart skipped a beat. She opened the door and made herself smile at Sarah and Linda. “Hi guys, come on in. I have tea ready in the kitchen.”
Linda looked at her oddly as they sat down at the table and Darcy poured them each a cup of tea. Sarah watched her every move, her hands wringing themselves again, her face anxious. “What have you found out Darcy?” she asked finally.
Darcy had already decided to be completely honest with her. She just wished they could have taken their time a bit more. “I don’t know how to put this, Sarah. Um. It might even be a little disturbing for you. Are you sure you want to know?”
Sarah was nodding before Darcy could even finish the question. “Yes. I’m sure.”
So Darcy took a deep breath, and came out with it. “I wasn’t able to contact your mother’s spirit. That’s unusual for me. So I had Jon do some research. Um. There is a chance your mom is still alive.”
Sarah gasped and dropped her cup as her hands flew to her mouth. The cup fell to the floor and broke in two. She blinked repeatedly and otherwise sat there motionless. Linda sat frozen with her cup halfway to her mouth, which was hanging open in surprise.
Darcy was prepared for a thousand questions and she knew the answer to each one would only lead to more. How could she explain what she’d just said? Linda, of course, knew about her abilities and was quite used to Darcy just knowing things. Which was all well and good, but that wouldn’t help her explain it to Sarah.
Unless she just spilled it all and let Sarah decide for herself.
“I spoke to Grant Peterson,” she explained slowly. “He was a police officer who was there the night of the fire.”
Sarah put her hands back into her lap. “Was? He was a police officer? What is he now?”
“Dead,” Darcy answered her. “He’s dead.”
Darcy looked over at Linda for support. Her friend just shrugged and put her tea cup down.
Sarah cleared her throat and shook her head. “That’s insane.”
That was the response Darcy had been expecting. She didn’t let that bother her. Too much. “I have an ability to, um, well…speak with the dead. It’s a sixth sense. You’re going to have to trust me on this, Sarah.”
&
nbsp; The girl laughed. “Just trust you. Okay.”
Linda reached over and put her one of her hands over Sarah’s trembling ones. “Sarah. You can trust Darcy. I’ve known her for a number of years and what she’s telling you about what she can do, strange as it seems, is true. Let’s hear her out.”
Darcy was able to relax some knowing that Linda was there to support her. She waited for Sarah to nod, her eyes still focused on the table, before she went on. “Grant saw your mother that night in the fire. But he saw her run into the fire, not away from it.”
“I don’t understand,” Sarah said.
“Well, I’m not sure I do either to tell you the truth.”
“Did he… Dear God this is insane.” Sarah took a deep breath and then finished her question. “Did the dead man say anything else?”
“Well, yes. He said he thought that he saw another person in the house with your mom. A man.”
Now Sarah’s head snapped up. “Just like I saw?”
Darcy wished she could just tell her yes and make her feel better. That wasn’t how it worked, though. “I don’t know. You saw two people in the fire. Grant said he saw your mom, and then saw a man, but he wasn’t even sure about that. Could it have been your dad?”
“No.” Sarah shook her head, rubbing at the corner of her eyes where tears had collected. “Dad couldn’t get back in. He tried, but I was so scared and he had to stay out with me…”
“It’s not your fault, honey,” Linda said to Sarah. “You were just a little girl.”
Darcy chewed on that bit of information. Louis hadn’t been able to get back in to his wife. Not without leaving his little girl behind and afraid. What an agonizing choice that must have been. But if the man Grant thought he had seen in the fire wasn’t Louis, then who would it have been?
***
The next morning Darcy woke up feeling more tired than when she had gone to sleep. Her mind would not stop thinking about the whole situation with Sarah. Having come up with no answers at all, it kept asking the same questions over and over deep into the night.
When Darcy walked to work through the town center she stopped in her tracks to take in the sight before her. She was stunned by how transformed the area was. Everyone had been very busy the last week setting up their stands for the festival and putting up decorations of colored leaves and stacks of haybales. The stands were set up on every available space and each one was decorated beautifully with colorful banners so that the area looked like a sea of blues, greens, yellows and reds.
Darcy saw Henrietta buzzing about her stand where she would be selling jams at the festival, now just a couple of days away. Darcy went over and said, “Hi Henrietta.”
“Oh, hello there Darcy, how are you doing? Looking forward to the festival are you?”
Darcy smiled at the woman and said she was. Henrietta was a bit of an enigma. She acted like an old woman, with her cane and head of very frizzy, white hair. Her face and voice seemed so much younger, though. Darcy had seen her several times before and never been able to guess her age.
“You going to come and buy some of my blackberry jam this year?” Henrietta asked her.
“If I can get here in time. Last year I missed out, you know.”
“Don’t worry, Darcy. You’re one of my favorite people. I’ll keep some under the table for you.”
“Thank you so much, Henrietta. I really need to go, though, or I’ll be late for work.” With a little wave Darcy moved on along the path towards the bookstore.
Her thoughts quickly went back to Sarah and her mother. Henrietta had lived in town for a long time, Darcy thought. She lived away from most everyone, too, so she might have a different take on things. Darcy made a mental note to catch back up with her and ask if she knew anything about the whole mystery.
Then she remembered she’d promised to meet her mother for lunch. She might have to put off investigating anything until after that.
***
Darcy worked her way through the morning with Sue talking about the festival and Sarah and even a little bit about Randy, her ex-boyfriend. When the bell over the door jingled she turned to see her mother walking in. Oh no, was it lunchtime already? Jon. She hadn’t even called him yet to tell him they were supposed to meet with her mom!
Her mother was impeccably dressed once again in another fashionable skirt and silk blouse, this time a lovely pale yellow color. Eileen leaned in to give Darcy the same kind of quick hug she had the night before and then stepped back looking around the store. Darcy couldn’t tell what she was thinking from her carefully neutral expression, but she was sure it wasn’t good.
It wasn’t like her mother to be so quiet but Darcy let her be. Sue wisely found other things to do that somehow always kept her on the opposite side of the store from them.
“You know,” Eileen said at last, “it looks just like I remember. You really haven’t changed it much. I could even expect to see Millie walk through that door any moment like she used to, exclaiming that some tragedy was about to happen.” Eileen scrunched up her face. “She was a little strange, your Aunt Millie.” She looked thoughtful. Darcy took offence at her dig at Millie. She’d been a wonderful woman and Darcy missed her terribly.
“This store has always had a strange atmosphere to it. Can you feel it?” Eileen shivered a little, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.
“I think it has a great atmosphere,” Darcy said stiffly, more than a little offended.
Eileen pierced her with her stare. “Yes you would, wouldn’t you?”
Darcy knew exactly what Eileen meant by that. She was referring to Darcy’s sixth sense. Her mother had never been able to come to terms with it. Darcy could sense the conversation heading into old, familiar territory so she decided to put aside her hurt feelings and change the subject.
“Actually, mom, the store isn’t exactly the same. I changed the name and I’ve modernized it a bit. We’ve even added several new sections.” She moved over to where her mother was standing and pointed them out.
“Oh yes, you have.” Eileen wandered over to one of the shelves and ran a finger along the spines of the books. She slid one of the books out of its place in the row. Eileen ran her fingers lovingly over the cover with an odd look on her face.
She turned to Darcy holding the book up for her to see with a small smile on her face. It was a copy of “Pride and Prejudice.”
“Did you know,” she asked, “that I named you Darcy because of this book. I was going through a phase where I used to read this over and over. I think I was a little in love with Mister Darcy. When you were born I just knew I had to name you after him.” She studied the book for a few moments more before putting it back in its place. “Silly thing to do wasn’t it?”
Darcy wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer. Her mother never talked about her personal life like this. It was sweet, in a way, and along with the hugs and the attempts to be nice her mother was starting to worry her.
She turned to Darcy and with no warning asked, “When am I going to meet this Jon person of yours?”
The rapid change of subject threw Darcy for a moment. She shrugged. “Actually, I was supposed to invite him to lunch with us but I haven’t had the chance to call him.” It was a little lie, but it was easier than saying she’d just forgotten.
“Oh really Darcy dear, that’s not an answer. I think you should have us all over to your house to dinner tomorrow night so that I can get to know this new man in your life. Let’s hope he’s an improvement on Jeff.”
Darcy didn’t know how to respond to that. Her ex-husband, Jeff, had been murdered a few months ago. Was Jon an improvement over Jeff? Without a doubt. But Jeff and she had started to reconnect just before his death and she had been incredibly sad that he had been killed.
“Mom, how about we just go for lunch today? I’ll call Jon and maybe he can meet us.”
Eileen gave her another sharp look. “Nonsense. I didn’t come all this way out here to the backside of the
civilized world to not meet him. I’ll see you at your place for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll make sure Grace and Aaron are there on time. The Lord knows that was never your sister’s strong suit.”
She made her way to the door. Turning before she left, she gave Darcy another long look, and then she was gone.
“Wow,” Sue said from the other side of a book stack where she’d apparently been hiding for a while now. “I’ve heard you talk about your mom. Your stories didn’t do her justice.”
Darcy sagged against the counter feeling thoroughly frazzled. She wasn’t sure how she was going to get through an entire dinner with her mother. The one bright spot was that at least Jon would be there with her.
Chapter Nine
Later that day when lunch time rolled around Darcy found that she wasn't very hungry. So she decided to skip lunch and take a walk out to the cemetery on Applegate Road.
In general, she tried to avoid the cemetery. Ghosts and spirits anchored themselves to the living world at whatever place they felt most tied to. That’s why houses became haunted by those who used to live there, and why those same ghosts never moved on to haunt deluxe apartments in Beverly Hills. They liked the familiarity of what they knew.
Sometimes, the deceased ended up tied to their gravesite. It was a lonely existence for them, as far as Darcy had been able to determine, and it made many of them irrationally angry. That was a lot of emotion in one place for someone as sensitive to the other world as Darcy was.
It took her nearly a half an hour to walk out past the school and the town hall to lonely stretch of road where the town’s cemetery was. It had stood in this same place for more than a century, predating the incorporation of the town, even. There was one corner of the place that had headstones from the early 1800s and another where there was only flat stones on the ground with names on them that might have been even older.
Darcy was very glad she was coming here in the daytime.
The rusted wrought iron fence around the three acre plot of ground had an archway that faced the street with Misty Hollow Cemetery written in metal letters across the top. Leaves skittered across the ground in a sudden wind. The grass was kept mowed and the trees inside the cemetery were ringed with red mulch. It was a nice, peaceful place.