“That is some pretty shitty irony.”
“Isn’t it? Anyway, before marrying Mike I used to hold sessions with individuals and groups but Mike didn’t want his law firm to know what I did so I stopped doing all that. I kept it pretty much a secret while we were married though a few close friends knew and they kept me busy enough.” I thought of Marly and Fran, wondered how they were getting on, how Marly’s baby was doing.
“So your husband did believe you could talk to dead people? He didn’t question that?”
“At first he was skeptical but when I made contact with his grandfather, he became a believer. Besides, I told him every time I had an experience and he was always amazed by it.” I had to smile at the memories, Mike’s amazement and his admiration.
“So what is this ability exactly?”
“Impressions mostly…very strong impressions. When something is coming from the Tri-State there is a different feel to the thought … though I can’t hear it physically, I can make a clear distinction between my own thoughts and theirs. I often feel a coldness from within.” I didn’t tell him about the cobwebs or Sheila. I think I would have lost whatever ground I was gaining.
“So you don’t actually see dead people?”
“Sometimes, but not often. It depends on their energy. I can see a ghostly apparition same as the next person, but actual spirits, they don’t often materialize enough for our physical eyes to see them. They make themselves known by the cool drafts that surround them. I think their energy draws whatever physical energy is nearby, heat being one of those elements. They can affect other forms of energy, physical objects, by making them move though I think interacting in our world is difficult for them. For those who are determined, they can make sounds loud enough for our physical hearing to detect.”
“Can you contact anyone you want or do you just take what you get?”
I wondered where this questioning was going. “Sometimes I make specific requests. Those in the Tri-State somehow become attracted to whoever calls them. More often than not, I can make contact with whomever I’ve deliberately set out to contact.”
“But not your husband?”
I shook my head. “Not Mike. I think it is me blocking that communication, though, not Mike.”
“Why?”
I gave a short, shaky laugh. “Because I think I would fall apart if I felt him again. I need him to be gone or I can’t do this.”
Kade nodded with understanding. “As for me, if I thought there was a way to contact Jacob, I think I would do that.”
I looked at Kade, met his eyes. “Are you asking me to try and do that for you?”
Kade glanced away. “I’m not sure. If I am, I’m not wanting it tonight. I’ve got to get used to the idea.”
“So your injuries … are they healed?”
“My left leg spasms a lot and I have to do a lot of special exercises to help strengthen the muscles. I tire easily and have to rest often. That was the main reason I decided it was best to end my career. If I can’t keep up with the troops, I have no business being there hindering things.” Kade finished his beer then pushed the empty cans out of the way to lean on the table. “Painting is a good outlet for me but it also is something my body can handle.” He flexed his shoulders. “I do get a bit stiff in the back on occasion but when that happens, I get up, move around.” He shrugged. “My painting helps pay the bills so that’s a plus.” Kade’s paintings must bring in a good income if he could afford to stay at Sea Willow Haven for the summer.
My husband’s insurance policy and the settlement against the drunk driver’s insurance had me set financially for life. I would trade it all in to have Mike back, but it did help not having to worry about money. Besides that, my needs changed quite drastically after Mike’s death. Acquiring things just wasn’t important. I paid off all our bills and kept myself debt free. This trip to Maine was the first thing I’d actually splurged on. I was glad Marly convinced me to do so.
“I imagine that I shall do what I was doing before I married Mike … if my ability is indeed returning.”
“Hold sessions you mean?”
“Yeah. I also wrote articles for magazines and newspapers about my experiences.” I thought about the book I started writing but decided not to confide in him about that just yet.
“Maybe that’s your life mission?”
I looked at Kade, thought about that and nodded slowly. “Maybe it is.”
Kade grabbed our empty beer cans and my wine glass and headed for the cottage. “I suppose I’ve kept you long enough. I imagine you are getting tired.”
I waited on the patio until he returned. “Thanks for talking with me, Kade, for sharing with me what happened.” I offered my hand but Kade ignored it and gave me a hug. It was a bit of a shock getting hugged by a man again after two long years. Sure my dad and brother had given me hugs from time to time but that was different. I closed my eyes for a moment and enjoyed the physical contact. Then when I realized what I was doing, I pulled away and stepped back. “Night, Kade.” Quickly I turned and walked away. I could feel Kade’s eyes on me and it made my skin prickle with awareness. Again I found myself fighting the urge to turn around and look at him, allowing myself to do so only when I got to my cottage and opened the patio doors. Kade was still watching. I waved and he waved back.
As I prepared for bed, I let our conversation replay in my mind. Though I was determined to keep to myself while I was here, it was pretty clear that friendships were beginning to form. With Nancy and now with Kade. I sat down on the bed and stared off into space. “Oh, Mike, I hope you aren’t mad at me about tonight.” Feeling guilty, I put on my shorts and the t-shirt that I liked to sleep in (it had belonged to Mike) and crawled into bed. For a long time I stared into the darkness and tried to figure out how best to proceed. Do I allow the friendships to continue or should I avoid them as much as possible? I did not like that idea, it sounded too darned lonely. Well, I’d just proceed with caution and not allow myself to get too close…especially to Kade. Yes, most especially not to Kade.
When I finally fell into sleep, I dreamed of Mike and Tootsie. I dreamed we were home and Mike was helping me bake an apple pie. As I was pulling it from the oven he started after me shouting a warning, waving his hands. Tootsie barked wildly at my feet. Surprised, I turned to Mike holding the pie in my hands … then I realized I was holding it with my bare hands and they were burning. I started screaming and Mike grabbed the pie and threw it. “Don’t ever bake that pie again, Tess! Never again.”
When I woke in the morning, I thought about the dream and couldn’t figure out what it meant no matter how long I meditated on it. As vivid as the dream was–the fact that I could recall every detail–I knew the dream was a warning. But of what? Certainly Mike’s first communication with me couldn’t be about baking? There was no doubt in my mind that last night’s dream was a real communication from Mike and Tootsie. Our dream state is as close to our soul state as we get in this life–it is easy for loved ones to make contact with us that way. This was the first dream I’d had of Mike. It was nice seeing him again. Now if I could figure out why?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After my shower, I decided to stay and have breakfast at the cottage. I bought some bagels at the store the day before so that’s what I chose to enjoy with my coffee. It was a sunny warm morning so the patio seemed the logical place to go and I headed there with my laptop. A quick glance at Kade’s cottage showed him to be nowhere in sight. Giving myself a mental scolding for even bothering to look, I sat down at the table and booted up my computer. I wanted to get some writing time in before getting on with my plans for the day. A major part of that plan was seeking out Nancy and asking her about the turret room and the experience her daughter had there.
“Sarah was in love. She did not question her feelings for she knew without a doubt it was love and it was exhilarating. Peter was everything she wanted. He was thoughtful and attentive, he made her laugh. She enjoyed that the m
ost for she never realized how much fun two people could have together. It was hard keeping him a secret and couldn’t believe she had managed to do so. But, it was easier to fool the busy servants when her father was away. She learned of a secret passage in the hall next to her room…it was quite by accident and to her mind, fate was lending a hand in helping her romance along. It told her what she knew…they were meant to be together. Sneaking through the secret passage that led down to the cellar was a bit daunting because it was so dark, but now she kept a lantern just inside the door to light her way. From the cellar she used another secret passage although this one she had known about for quite some time. The cook showed it to her when she accompanied him to the cellar for supplies one day. She didn’t much like that passage for it was very cold, damp and musty smelling. It led to some small caves that eventually opened up near the shore out of sight of the house and were once used for smuggling years ago. Until she’d met Peter, she had never dared to use it but he always waited for her inside the tunnel close to the cellar entrance and crawled through the darkened passage with her. He had even created a cozy room within one of the caverns the tunnel opened up to. They kept a change of clothes hidden in the cavern for her to use as a disguise when they ventured from the cave out into the open. And oh how she loved the freedom of that!
Peter often took her for rides in his boat. He also took her to the island where he found an abandoned camp that he had fixed up for his own use. They spent many hours there. She couldn’t wait until they could be together forever. Sarah longed for the day they would not have to sneak around. She wanted everyone to know how wonderful Peter was and how much she loved him. When the time was right, she would tell her father. Now that she was eighteen, surely he couldn’t keep her a prisoner any longer. Could he?
I stopped typing, read over my latest addition and saved my work. Whose story was I writing? Was I writing their story…the tragic lovers of forty years ago? Mentally I went through the cellar and tried to recall anything that might suggest a secret passage. I remembered nothing there that would provoke a closer inspection. Surely my instincts would have led me to such a discovery? Wouldn’t Nancy have known and said something? Maybe the tragedy was influencing my imagination and there was no connection to the story I was writing. Somehow, I just didn’t believe that.
“Good morning, little lady. You sure look lost in thought on this fine day.”
I looked up at Hank and motioned for him to come join me. “Good morning to you, Hank. What brings you this way?” I indicated he should take a chair then nodded toward my coffee cup. “You want some coffee?”
Hank took off his ball cap, scratched his balding head and replaced his cap. “No, thank you. I just wanted to ask if that closet door of yours is still sticking? I meant to have it fixed before you got here but I was busy with other things and forgot.”
“Actually, Hank, it is stuck open. I don’t mind it since it’s just me in the room but I do understand that you want everything on the resort working properly. So, if you want to have a look at it, please feel free to do so.” I started to rise but Hank waved me back into my seat. He lifted a small bag that I hadn’t noticed he was holding.
“Don’t bother yourself none, little lady. You stay and enjoy your coffee. I got the tools I need right here. I’m pretty sure the runner is bent so I’ll just go take care of it right quick and git out of yer hair.”
Before he could walk away, I decided to settle the question I was muddling over when he showed up. “Hank? You have worked here quite a long time haven’t you?”
Hank’s eyes widened a bit and then he grinned. “Well, that depends on how long you think I’ve been here. I’m not as old as I look, you know.”
I laughed at that. “No, no, I know you aren’t as old as the resort, Hank. Nancy told me that you worked for the Morgans. I was wondering if you knew of any secret passages around here, either in the house or wherever?”
Hank shot me a startled look and then glanced away, thinking. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about telling me the truth, or making up a lie. Why I felt that, I don’t know, but there it was.
“Well now, that’s a new one for me.” He gave me a sly look, his blue eyes twinkling. “You planning on a secret rendezvous with someone?”
“Hank, really. I haven’t been here long enough to rendezvous with anyone.”
Hank laughed. “If that Sinclair fellow has any eyes, it shouldn’t take him long at all.” He wiggled his bushy eyebrows. “If I was twenty years younger …”
Hank’s harmless flirtation made me laugh. It also made me feel somewhat guilty. I shouldn’t be having so much fun should I? I thought when Mike died I would be sad for the rest of my life. Two years later I’m enjoying the harmless teasing of a man old enough to be my grandfather. “You are very sweet, Hank.”
Hank blushed red. “As for your question, why are you asking such a thing? You know something about this place?”
“No, of course not. I just thought all big old mansions had secret passages.”
“Well, maybe in a gothic romance you might find such a thing, but I don’t believe Sea Willow has anything romantic of that nature.” He started for my cottage, giving me a consoling pat on the shoulder as he passed. “Sorry, little lady, don’t mean to disappoint you.”
I heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Thanks anyway.”
While Hank worked on my closet door, I moved to the lounge chair and lay back. The sun was out today and the ocean breeze was gentle. I loved the sound of water rushing to shore, the breakers crashing loud and soft depending on their size. I loved the sea gulls and the fresh, salty air. It truly was peaceful here. I closed my eyes and immediately remembered my dream from the night before. I enjoyed the memory of sharing the kitchen with Mike and having Tootsie at my feet.
The coldness pervaded slowly, so much so that I almost didn’t notice it and then the shiver came. That jolted me from my dream recall, and I went on alert. The cobweb feeling brushed across my face and at that same moment I remembered Mike screaming at me from my dream. “Don’t bake that pie ever again, Tess. Never again!” It was almost as if I could physically hear the warning. I shook my head and sat up, my heart pounding. Was Mike trying to reach me? Did I want that contact? Tears filled my eyes and I quickly blinked them away. No, I wasn’t quite ready just yet to talk to him. Not yet.
“You okay, little lady?” Hank stopped beside me and hunkered down. “Something upset you?”
I brushed at my eyes and gave Hank an embarrassed smile. “No, Hank, I’m fine. Really. I was just thinking about Mike, my husband.”
Hank’s lined face gentled. “I heard you lost your husband. I’m wicked sorry about that.”
“Thanks, Hank.” Wanting to change the subject for I was feeling vastly uncomfortable, I waved toward his maintenance bag. “Did you get the closet fixed?”
“Sure did. You should be able to open and close it without any problem now.” Hank stood. “I’ll be seeing you, my dear.”
“Thanks, Hank.”
“Just doin’ my job.” He hurried off as if suddenly uncomfortable himself. Crying females probably did that to him.
I took my laptop and empty coffee cup inside and then slipped on a pair of sandals. It was time to go see Nancy.
* * *
When I walked into the cool interior of the hallway, I met Modesta on her way out. She looked dressed for an outing of some sort. “Morning, Modesta, do you know where Nancy is?”
“Good morning, Tess. Nancy run the desk for this morning. I go to shop.” She looked around and then leaned close, whispering, “I go to see Rena. I hope she no tell about the ghost.”
Smiling at the clandestine air she affected, I whispered back. “Good luck with that.”
Modesta’s lips thinned in a tight smile, her dark eyes narrowed and serious. “I think I hear the ghost again this morning.” Again she looked about and then leaned even closer. “I hear her up in the room, pacing, pacing.” Modesta shi
vered. “I only hope our guests no hear that when they come tomorrow. We have the two rooms down on that end rented for the weekend.”
“You mean the ones at the end of the hall … near the turret stairs?”
“Sí, sí, those are the ones. I go to check the rooms, make sure they clean and ready, and I hear the walking.”
“Maybe someone really was up there?”
Modesta shook her head. “No, no. Nancy … she lock the door again, this time with a padlock. I check it and the door is locked.”
“Well, even if it was a ghost you really don’t have anything to worry about, Modesta.”
Modesta opened the door. “I no worry for me. I worry for Nancy and Jack.” Modesta went out and pulled the door closed behind her. Obviously our conversation was over. Which was fine by me as I had a very distinct feeling that Modesta did not like me. I didn’t come here to chat with her anyway, I wanted to talk to Nancy. Speaking of which, where was she? No one was at the front desk but a door to the right of the check-in area stood open. I walked over to it and peeked in. Nancy was sitting on a sofa reading a book. She glanced up, saw me and motioned for me to come in and join her.
“We missed you at breakfast, Tess.”
“I had some bagels so stayed to enjoy breakfast by the sea.” I sank onto the sofa beside Nancy and motioned to her book. “What are you reading?”
Nancy turned a soft shade of pink and gave a sheepish laugh. “It’s one of Sylvia Brown’s books. You’ve heard of her I’m sure. She’s a psychic.”
“Who hasn’t heard of her? Are you trying to learn how to communicate with your ghosts?”
Be Still, My Love Page 10