Peter. I thought it interesting that I chose that name for the boy in my book. “How long has Peter worked here?”
“Only about a month,” Nancy said. “We hire extra help in the spring because there is so much to do. Raymond was hired to oversee the maintenance of the buildings and he’s in charge of the boats … we have a sailboat and a motorboat for guests to enjoy. I hired Peter to help Hank get the grounds ready for the summer.”
“Soon as Rena see Peter–” Modesta clapped her hands. “They like each other right away. I know it only a matter of time for them to pair off.”
“So now you are short-handed with staff?” Was that what Nancy had been worried about?
“No, we have a couple other girls to help with the rooms and with general cleaning about the house. Hank has a good handle on the grounds at this point.” She looked at me with worry in her blue-green eyes. “My concern is that Peter and Rena are going to start spreading stories that a ghost locked them in the cellar. It may frighten away business.”
I could see her point. “Did you ask them not to say anything?”
Modesta nodded. “Sí, I ask them and they promise to keep quiet but I don’t think they will. They are young and it is a fun thing to talk about.” Modesta stood up. “I must go to the office and do some work.” She waved goodbye and bustled away as if late for an appointment and only now realizing it.
Nancy drummed her fingers on the table. “I wish I knew how that cellar door got locked. If I could explain that and tell Rena and Peter it wasn’t a ghost … well, that would help stop bad rumors from spreading.”
“Maybe the ghost wanted them to have some time together and was trying to be helpful?” It was only a suggestion but one that could help the whole episode sound romantic rather than scary.
Nancy laughed. “I guess that would put a good spin on things wouldn’t it?
Glad to see her smile, I pushed away from the table. “I wouldn’t worry over it much, Nancy. Things happen. You can’t stop people from talking and my experience has shown that most people today are intrigued with spirits and stuff.”
Nancy walked with me out to the entry hall. “You’re right. I’m not going to dwell on it.” She stopped at the front desk. Modesta was nowhere in sight. “What are your plans for the day?”
“I’m going to go into town and do some shopping. I need to keep a few goodies at the cottage, and then I think I’ll take a walk along the shore and maybe read a book later.”
Modesta came out of the office with a piece of paper in her hand. “Here are the directions to the store.”
I took the paper from her, read over the directions, saw that it was quite easy and nodded my thanks. “Bless you, Modesta. I think even I can’t get lost with these directions.”
“Getting around here, you will find, is not all that difficult,” Nancy said. “Almost all the roads hook up with each other at some point. Just stay close to the shore road and you’ll always find your way back to us.” Nancy walked with me to the door. “Have a nice day.”
“Thanks, I think I shall.” But as I walked the path to the cottage, the now familiar coldness crept along the skin of my back. I swung around and looked up at the windows in the west side turret, the third floor window to be exact. Though I didn’t see anyone, I felt someone was indeed there watching me. Thoughtfully I stared back and tried to put out a psychic feeler … something I hadn’t done in two years. The only thing I felt was a sense of concern. That was probably because of the conversation I just had. Maybe later I could get Nancy to take me to the wine cellar. Who knows, since my ability seemed to be coming back maybe I’d pick up on something. It was a thought and it actually gave me something to look forward to. For the most part, I usually enjoyed encounters with the Tri-State, especially when there was a special message to impart. My instincts were telling me that whatever Tri-State presence lingered here was doing just that … trying to impart a message of some kind.
Sending out a mental promise to return later, I turned around and continued walking to my cottage. The warning trills down my spine told me that maybe I wouldn’t like the message. That gave me pause but didn’t stop me from wanting to check it out. It did, however, make me cautious. As I entered the cottage and prepared to leave for town, I wondered if maybe it was time for me and God to make up.
CHAPTER EIGHT
After returning from my shopping expedition and putting away the groceries, I put on a good pair of walking sneakers, grabbed my windbreaker, and headed for the shore. The tide was out so I started to walk across the exposed flats towards the water’s edge but changed my mind when I encountered slick rocks, thick gooey mud, and seaweed teaming with all sorts of sea life. Realizing the futility of a walk in such conditions, I turned back to walk higher along the dry part of the shoreline. Although there was quite of bit of sand, there were also a lot of rocks, some of them the size of small boulders. They were, however, more manageable since the seaweed and sea slime wasn’t a problem on this part of the shore. There was a lot of driftwood lying about and I kept my eye out for any interesting pieces, but for the most part I remained focused inward as I tried to tackle my troublesome anger issues. The smell of sea salt and drying seaweed, the dull roar of the waves and the occasional sharp cry of a seagull were fitting backdrops to what was going on in my mind.
Before Mike’s accident, I believed we were active participants in the creation of our lives. I believed nothing happened to us without our consent though I did understand that our consent was not always something we were consciously aware of. I believed angels existed and if we were fortunate enough to be open to communication with them, our lives truly were blessed. I was secure in the comfort that angels were with me all the time and because I was aware of them, I could make my desires known to them. I trusted those desires would be fulfilled … as long as they were for my highest good and didn’t hurt anyone else. I do not believe angels give us advantages over others by telling us winning lottery numbers or some such thing … no matter how often we beg that they do so. For the most part, my requests were fulfilled. Until Mike and Tootsie died.
My anger was not just in their leaving me but also in the fact that despite my communications with Sheila, whom I believed to be my guardian angel, and my strong convictions about having God’s protection from tragedy, I was not warned in any way that my life was about to change so unbearably … and at times, it was unbearable. The loneliness and the unfairness of it all became too much sometimes and I just wanted to scream. I wanted to be mad at something. Since God was running the show, it seemed logical to rail at him. Not that I believed God was an old man sitting up in the clouds. I didn’t believe God was a person or anything like a person. My vision of God was that of a creative, intelligent, omniscient energy part of every single thing in existence.
I also did not believe that God was emotional or motivated by emotion. Given that, I knew that in order to clear the air and come to peace with my life, I needed to let the anger go. I had to try–really try–to think this through without my emotions taking over. Somehow I had to come to an acceptable explanation, an understanding, of why Mike left me. And, I also needed to understand why Tootsie had to go with him. I didn’t think it was unreasonable to want an answer to those questions. Most people who came to me for help in contacting departed loved ones were hoping for two things–to know that their loved ones were okay and, in the case of an accident or untimely death, to understand why they had died. For myself, I’ve always understood that death is part of life and at some point everyone dies, but until Mike and Tootsie died I never really questioned the why of those unexpected, sudden deaths. I just accepted that some left physical life early. My main concern when meeting with clients was to connect them with their departed loved ones so that the living could move on. Despite all that, despite everything I had done and believed in, I was unable to accept that Mike was wrenched away during the prime of his life. Mike was a content man. He loved me, he liked being an attorney, and h
e loved our home, our friends and our family. So why did he leave all that and cross over to the other side?
I truly believed in free will and the concept that God doesn’t treat us like puppets, pulling our strings and determining our experiences. If the latter were the case, then, in my opinion anyway, our actions would be rendered inconsequential. After all, how can we be held accountable for our actions if God was the one controlling everything? Where was the sense in believing God, and God alone, made all the decisions concerning our lives? So, if I am to accept that God allows us some say in the matter, then that means I still believe that death comes only when we consent to it, even if that consent is only on a soul level. Although our consciousness, our personal awareness, may not realize what we are consenting to, I did believe that at a deeper level, soul deep to be exact, we are quite aware and in control of our own destinies. I also believed we could not in any way control someone else’s destiny, no matter how much we wished sometimes that we could. So, given that, where did all this bring me? Mike must have consented to pass on through to the Tri-State. If that were the case and I did believe it to be so, then my real question is why did he want to go? Trying to put myself in Mike’s shoes, I thought back to that beautiful, horrible day.
He woke content. He spent the morning in the garden and he truly enjoyed that. Our time together that entire morning was quite companionable. So, at that moment, just before the drunk driver hit his car … what would make Mike agree to the events that followed?
His time was done. Whatever Mike came into life to accomplish … he completed. Maybe I will never know Mike’s accomplished mission but putting that aside, did I really believe he should have stayed here just because I wanted him to? Truly, if I were to die at this moment, I was okay with that. But my parents, my family, would be devastated and my friends upset. Much as I loved them, I would cross over without hesitation if my time had come. But then, I am miserable because I miss my husband. Mike wasn’t miserable over anything that morning. And honestly, why did he have to take Tootsie with him? He could have left her with me. He was only going to the store. He often went to the store and left Tootsie home though she always begged to go. But not that morning. Why? Frustrated, I wondered if I could ever get by the fact that I was getting no answers to my whys. Could I at least get an answer from the angels as to why they didn’t warn me?
I paused in my thoughts to check out my surroundings. I’d walked quite a ways from the resort. Bobbing boats of every variety peppered the bay ahead and colorful buoys dotted the ruffled water. Since I didn’t want to go anywhere near people, I turned and headed back towards a small inlet I passed a short while back. A large boulder was located there and it would make a great perch for me as I continued with my mental wanderings.
Once settled on the large warm rock, I enjoyed the gentle sea breeze and soothing repetition of the waves lapping against the shore. Then I again focused on myself and my internal search for answers.
Those first few days after Michael’s death, I was in a state of emotional shock and then consuming anger. Angelic communication cannot occur under such circumstances. My inability to communicate with Sheila and hers to communicate with me were understandable. But before the accident–the night before while communing with her during my nightly meditation–why did she not warn me? A peaceful feeling washed over me and thoughts entered my head so swiftly that I knew I was finally getting an answer.
The angels … God … cannot interfere with a soul’s personal journey. Warning me might have created an interference that Mike’s soul did not want. Were that the case, then no warning would have occurred. I had to remember that to the angels, death is not a punishment or something to fear. Physical death for us meant a spiritual reunion for them. As wonderful a person as Mike was … I could certainly understand the angels being happy to receive his spirit. But what about me? That was a very selfish question and I realized it as soon as it sounded loud and petulant in my mind. That’s what all this was about anyway … me. I wasn’t concerned with Mike’s spiritual journey, only my own and what I wanted. Tears welled in my eyes, fell rapidly down my face and dripped off the end of my chin onto my shirt. Acceptance was an emotional thing and my emotions were somewhat overwhelming. I let the tears out and the peace in. I would never be happy with the way things turned out but I had to accept that everything happened for the best of reasons. Mike is where he wants to be and I had to be content with that. As for Tootsie … well, I’m not sure if free will works the same way for animals but I would like to believe that Tootsie went with Mike because she wanted to. It was the fact she was taken from life without her consent that bothered me more than anything. But, if she had a choice and chose to go … I could live with that as well. I didn’t like it and I never would, but I could live with it.
Calmness settled over me and my tears dried up. Peace drifted through my psyche in soothing waves, washing away the anger that had clung to my soul for so long. Emotionally drained, I sat quietly, allowing no thoughts to hinder the healing process. It was a great feeling to finally be free of the negative baggage I’d carried around for two long years. How could I have forgotten that to heal, one must open their spirit to God’s healing graces? The sadness of the past two years became a memory. I knew that if I allowed myself to wallow in the memories, the sadness would come to the forefront and fill my spirit. I could not allow that. For the time being anyway, I was alive and well and I needed to get on with my life – figure out my own life mission and get to it.
Having made a decision and feeling spiritually uplifted, I slid off the rock and headed for the cottage. I would take a cleansing shower and head up to the house for dinner. Then I was going to get Nancy to take me to the wine cellar. If I were led to Sea Willow Haven to help spirits trapped here, then I needed to get moving. I had less than a month to figure it all out.
CHAPTER NINE
“So you found the grocery store okay?” Modesta came around the front desk as soon as I entered from the hallway leading to the back door and walked with me to the dining room. She looked at me curiously and I wondered why.
“Yes, thank you, Modesta.” When we entered the dining room, everyone from the night before was already in place, same seats. We were creatures of habit after all. I sank in the chair next to Nancy. Tonight we were having shrimp scampi, steamed vegetables and fluffy white rice. The Rosen’s however, had herbed chicken on their plates since they told Nancy the night before that they did not like shrimp. Nancy let everyone know what dinner would be for the following day so if there were something on the menu we did not care for, the chef could prepare another dish that was to our liking.
“Are these local shrimp, Nancy?” I gave myself a modest portion of the scampi, its aroma filling my nose delightfully and making my stomach rumble.
“Yes. We try to prepare most our meals from local sources.” Nancy waited until I had eaten a few bites before she spoke to me again. “Did you have a nice walk on the beach?”
“Yes I did.” I felt Kade’s eyes on me and glanced up. He had a thoughtful expression on his face and I wondered if he was remembering last night and the voice we heard?
“How about you, Kade? Did you get some painting done?” Nancy asked.
“Yes, actually.” He paused for a long moment. “Maybe you would like to look at it later?” It seemed a request rather than a question.
Nancy smiled with delight. “Certainly I would.”
The rest of the dinner went by with lots of chatter and some laughter. Once again I enjoyed the light atmosphere and felt grateful for it. After dinner and a dessert of delicious strawberry shortcake, I followed Nancy into one of the resort’s comfortable sitting rooms. Since Jack and Kade had the same idea and were close behind, I pulled Nancy aside and whispered to her. “I was wondering, Nancy, if you would give me a tour of the wine cellar?”
Startled by the request, Nancy gave me an assessing look. “You going to feel the place out for ghosts?”
I glanc
ed over at the men. They settled themselves in a couple of leather chairs apparently deep in discussion about something and paying us no attention. “Yes, if that is okay with you?”
Nancy took my arm and spoke over her shoulder as we headed out of the room. “Jack, we’re going for a walk.” Jack glanced up, waved, and went back to his conversation with Kade.
Nancy led me down a hallway to a door at the end near the kitchen. She looked behind her to be sure no one was about, opened the door and quickly ushered me inside. She flicked on a light switch pulling the door shut behind her. Cool air drifted up from the dark cellar below. “There are two entrances to the wine cellar, this one here and another that opens to the side of the house. Rena and Peter used the outside entrance to get into the cellar. There are two main rooms … the one here that these stairs lead to and then the other room where they were that is accessible from this side by a thick wooden door and from the outside entranceway. The door that separates the two rooms is latched from this side and was why they couldn’t come out this way when they got locked in. And because of its thickness, we couldn’t hear them pounding on it.”
We stepped down onto a concrete floor. Nancy flipped another switch at the bottom of the stairs and the wine cellar lit with dim light. Rows and rows of bottled wine lined the walls of the cellar. A heavy door was located to the right of us. It was cool down here and smelled of dust but there was no dampness of any kind and was tidy and clean. I felt nothing here but a calm atmosphere.
“I can tell you that there are no bodies buried in the floor of your cellar, Nancy.” I said this jokingly but Nancy gave me a grateful smile.
“Thank God for that.” Nancy went to the door and lifted a heavy latch. “When you shut the door, the latch automatically drops into place locking it. We use this outer part of the cellar to store vegetables and canned foods. George, our chef, and Modesta are great believers in canning food. They say it is much better for us than store bought products.” She opened the door. “This back area is always colder, too cold for the wine, which is why we keep the door closed.”
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