Nine Lives

by Wendy Corsi Staub

  “She’s going to pull through this,” Bella snaps. “And she’s going to ‘go on and on’ about you when she gets to the witness stand.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  So he doesn’t know.

  She’d only told him Bonnie had been pulled out of the lake, not that she was still alive.

  “She’s a fighter, Steve. If she wasn’t going to let cancer steal her life away, then she sure wasn’t going to let you do it.”

  A shadow slides across his face, nudging the mask out of place. He’s wild-eyed, starting to lose his grip—on his emotions, not on the gun.

  “You must know this is it,” she tells him. “You can do whatever you want to me, but it’s not going to change what’s going to happen to you. A lot of people are going to be devastated when they find out who you really are.”

  For a long moment, he just stares at her. Then he cocks the trigger and raises the gun.

  This is it.

  She braces herself.

  This is where it happens. This is where it ends.

  She fervently hopes Odelia and the others are right, that it is just crossing over. That she won’t just cease to exist. That she’ll still be . . . somewhere. Either on the Other Side with Sam or here on earth with their son . . .

  Max. I’m so sorry I have to leave you. I love you so much, and I—

  But Steve isn’t pointing the weapon at her.

  Wild-eyed, violently shaking, he’s pointing it at his own temple.

  Her jaw drops. A word forms on her lips.

  “Stop!”

  It didn’t come from her own mouth. And the resounding shot didn’t come from the pistol in Steve’s hand. It skitters into the undergrowth as he drops to the ground, bleeding not from the skull but from his shin.

  Suddenly, someone is there with them.

  “Luther?”

  “You okay?” Luther clutches a gun in his right hand and a phone in his left, thumb dialing it as he gives her a quick once-over.

  Unable to answer, still trying to catch her breath, she just nods. She may not be okay in this particular moment, but she will be in the next—or the one after that. Soon she’ll be able to speak, able to breathe again.

  “Yeah, send medics up here, too,” Luther barks into the phone, bending over Steve as he writhes and moans on the ground. “Tell them they’ll see a path right next to my Jeep and to follow it up. Yes, but it’s a superficial wound. Bullet nicked him in the leg. What’s that? No, she’s right here with me. She’s safe.”

  He hangs up and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. He tosses it onto the ground beside Steve, who grabs it and presses it against his bloody leg. Blood smears on the white linen.

  Incredulous that he’s actually here, Bella manages to ask him how he found her.

  “I heard a gunshot. Saw the maple he hit down there. If he was aiming for you, he’s a lousy shot.”

  She cringes. “He was aiming for the tree. He’s an excellent shot. But . . . you couldn’t have heard it from the hospital.”

  “I didn’t.” He holds up his phone, a twinkle in his kind, brown eyes. “I got your text.”

  “But . . . how did you make it here so fast?”

  “Magic.” He winks at her. “This is Lily Dale, after all.”

  “You might just have made me into a believer.” She manages a faint smile, shaking her head, and he laughs.

  “I was already back here in the Dale when you texted. I got to the house right after you left. Max and Jiffy had heard you leave, and they didn’t know where you were, but—”

  “Max and Jiffy? They were there? In the house? But I looked for them, and I couldn’t find them.”

  “They were locked in the basement with the cat.”

  “In the basement?”

  “They were playing hide-and-seek—with him.” He flicks a look of disgust at the man on the ground. “When I got there, I found the front door standing wide open, and I thought something might be wrong.”

  Yes. She hadn’t locked or even closed it in her haste to go find Max, never thinking to question Steve when he said the boys had left the house.

  He’d sent them to the basement under the pretext of a game, to get them out of the way.

  I would never hurt a child.

  Thank goodness. Thank goodness he’d told the truth about something.

  “I heard them shouting,” Luther says, “and they said they didn’t know how the door got locked behind them.”

  She shudders at the thought of her skittish son trapped in the dank, old cellar, but it could have been worse. Much, much worse.

  Then she realizes something. “Wait a minute—you said the cat was down there with them?”

  “Right. When I opened the door, all three of them came running out. Max brought her right back upstairs to her kittens, though. He was worried they were hungry. And speaking of magic . . . he told me that the cat can walk through walls.”

  “I was almost starting to believe the same thing,” she says, knowing that the tunnel must open into the basement. “But I was wrong.”

  About so many things.

  “I have to get back home, Luther. I can’t leave Max alone.”

  “He isn’t. Pandora Feeney is with him and Jiffy.”

  Well, speak of the devil. Except she isn’t the devil after all. She’s just a gossipy local biddy.

  Maybe even a magical one, Bella thinks, remembering the bluebell.

  “Why is she there?” she asks Luther, unsure whether to be dismayed or relieved at the news.

  “You’ll have to ask her that. She’s the one who called me at the hospital and asked me to meet her at the house as soon as possible. She showed up just as your text came in, and I told her to stay so that—what’s the matter?” he asks, seeing the look on her face.

  “It’s just . . . until we got up here and this happened,” she says as she gestures at Steve Pierson, “I thought Pandora was behind all this.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I found this in my closet.” She pulls the distinctive floral print hair accessory from her pocket and shows it to him. He listens thoughtfully as she tells him about the secret passageway in her closet.

  Two-faced Steve might have been guilty of one crime, but that doesn’t mean Pandora Feeney isn’t guilty of another.

  “And now you’re telling me that she’s alone with my son, Luther. Just tell me whether she’s dangerous.”

  He shakes his head vehemently. “Not the way you’re thinking, no.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look, I may not always buy into this Spiritualism stuff, but . . . after all these years on the job, I’m pretty good at reading people. Especially around here. Some of them are the real deal. They really do know things they shouldn’t know, and they see things no one else can see.”

  Yes. Leona did. And Bonnie, too.

  “So you’re saying that Pandora knows things . . .”

  And she sees things.

  Sam. She’s seen Sam.

  “That’s what I’m saying, Bella. And that knowing, and seeing, can be dangerous.”

  He’s right about that. But sometimes, it can save your life.

  “Pandora had a premonition about Leona’s death months ago,” Luther tells her. “She tried to warn her, but like Odelia, Leona had no use for her. And likewise, I’m sure. Sometimes, living in such close quarters and isolated for so many months of the year, things can get a little bit dicey among the full-time residents around here. You know—typical small-town life.”

  Yes. In a town that’s anything but typical.

  “Anyway, when it happened, Pandora immediately suspected it wasn’t an accident. She knew better than to go to the police.”

  “Because they wouldn’t take her seriously, or because they’d suspect her?”

  “Both. She took it upon herself to investigate.”

  “She’s been coming and going, then?”

  “Yes. She told me about
the secret stairway. There are a few of them, actually. She uncovered them when she was doing renovations years ago. They were built into the house during Prohibition.”

  Ah—so Pandora’s bootleggers were authentic after all. And Pandora herself . . .

  “Why?” Bella asks. “Why was she sneaking around the house?”

  “She knew no one would believe her without evidence. She was trying to figure out motive and pinpoint a suspect.”

  “You mean, her spirit guides didn’t give her that information?”

  Luther matches Bella’s wry tone. “Sometimes, everyone has to rely on good old-fashioned investigation tactics. Even mediums.”

  “Why did she call you over today, then? Had she figured out the truth about Steve?”

  “No. She’d had a premonition about you. She thought you were in danger.”

  “She was right.” She digests that for a long moment.

  Hearing sirens and knowing they’re headed this way, she asks, “Can I go now? Or do you need me here?”

  “The police will want to talk to you.”

  “Is it going to take long?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then can I go home quickly first? I really need to hug my son.”

  Luther hesitates, and his eyes are a little bright as he says, “Sure. It’s not as if we don’t know where to find you. Go hug your son.”

  He’s thinking of his own mother, she knows. A mother who’s slipping away from her son moment by moment.

  Poised to go, Bella asks one last question. “How’s your mom, Luther?”

  “She’s hanging on.”

  As is he, Bella knows. Even at his age, even after so many years together, he’s not ready to say good-bye.

  That’s how it is when you’re losing someone you love. You hang on tightly for as long as you can. Even when it’s time to let go.

  “Oh, and Bella? Don’t say anything to Eleanor Pierson. They’re on their way to the house to talk to her.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good. Go ahead. Go home.”

  She takes off down the trail, his last words dogging her.

  She wants to go home so badly that she’s almost running, despite her aching ankle.

  Running . . .

  It nurtures the heart and the soul.

  So said Eleanor Pierson, quoting her husband, who possesses neither of those things. What if Bella hadn’t grasped the truth about heartless, soulless Steve Pierson?

  What if she hadn’t interpreted that keychain as a sign?

  Then I would have been blindsided. I wouldn’t have survived.

  Just this morning, she’d been wondering how, if everything happens for a reason, that rare kitten had managed to wind up in her care. Now she knows.

  Really? So you think it all comes down to something mystical?

  What about instinct?

  She’s a mother. She’s been relying on instinct from the moment Max was born.

  Luther relies on it as a detective, along with good old-fashioned investigation.

  Where is the line between instinct and magic?

  One is based in science, and the other is . . .

  I don’t know. Right now, I don’t know, and I don’t care.

  She bursts out of the woods onto the field and sees Luther’s blue Jeep parked nearby. She should have asked him for the keys.

  She’ll just have to keep going on foot.

  Going home.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bella can hear the sirens falling away behind her as she races down narrow, muddy lanes, past rainbow houses washed clean beneath a chalky sky. She weaves around cars and pedestrians, splashes heedlessly into pothole puddles. The rain has stopped. The cool lake breeze is in her face and wind chimes tinkle pleasantly, dangling from gingerbread porches and leafy boughs in overcrowded gardens.

  She reaches the auditorium. Its doors are propped open, people spilling forth to wander the streets once again. The ghost town has given way once again to the land of the living . . .

  The living in search of the dead.

  Bella, too, was searching when she arrived in Lily Dale.

  But it wasn’t for someone she’s lost. She knows Sam is gone. He isn’t coming back. She’d like to believe he’s still out there somewhere. That he sent her that bluebell to let her know she isn’t alone. That he might even pop in sometime to say hello. But . . .

  I won’t hold my breath for that.

  It’s time to start breathing again. Time to let go.

  She did come here searching for something she really can believe in. Something she’s lost, yes . . . but not someone.

  She rounds the corner and sees the big lavender house.

  Home.

  Where, if not here? If not this house, this town . . . with these people?

  They’re all there on the front steps: Max, Jiffy, Odelia, Pandora, even Grant, and . . . Doctor Bailey?

  Max spots her. “Mom! Where did you go?”

  She swallows hard and shakes her head mutely, aware that everyone’s eyes are on her. She grabs Max and hugs him.

  “You’re squishing me, by the way!”

  At last, she’s able to make a sound. Laughter.

  She lets Max go and looks around at the others. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “I was just stopping by for a spot of tea,” Pandora says.

  Yeah. Sure she was.

  Odelia is nodding. “And I saw her through the window and thought I’d come over and join you.”

  No, she was keeping an eye on things, wary of Pandora.

  As for Doctor Bailey—“I just wanted to check on the kittens and drop off more formula. I thought maybe you could use it. And I brought over that book about hand-rearing kittens. I forgot to give it to you. Oh, and a scale so that I can weigh them and make sure they’re eating enough. Especially our boy Spidey.”

  “I didn’t realize you made house calls.”

  “I don’t, usually. But I figured you might have your hands pretty full around here.”

  “I do,” she admits, knowing he has his hands full as well. But today, dressed casually in jeans and a chambray button-down shirt, he seems much more relaxed than he did in his office.

  She points him up the stairs to the Rose Room, telling him she’ll join him up there shortly. It’s almost time to feed the kitten again.

  “Isn’t he a splendid chap?” Pandora asks when he’s gone.

  They all agree that he is—even Odelia, who isn’t particularly prone to agree with anything Pandora says.

  Grant merely fiddles with his car keys and says, “He’s all right.”

  “Are you on your way out?” Bella asks him.

  “I was just about to take my car through the car wash now that the rain has stopped.”

  “Which seems like a waste of time and money to me,” Odelia puts in, “since the rain washes the car.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of acid rain?” Grant asks her. “The residue is bad for the finish. You should always wash your car after the rain.”

  “My car? Have you seen my car?” She cracks a smile. “I think residue is all that’s holding it together.”

  “Mom, Mr. Grant wants me and Jiffy to go to the car wash with him. Can we?”

  “Oh, I don’t think he needs company to go to the car wash, Max.”

  “Yes, he does. He invited us!”

  “I really did invite them,” Grant says with a smile. “But Max told me he couldn’t go without permission, and he didn’t know where you were.”

  “I thought maybe you were playing hide-and-seek with us,” Max tells her. “I hate that game, by the way. And I hate the basement.”

  “Me, too,” Jiffy agrees. “Except we have to go back down there to get the laptop, because mine is broken and I need one.”

  “Laptop?” Bella asks. “There’s a laptop in the basement?”

  “Yes, and I hate the basement, but I need to go get it. Oh, and I hate that guy, too, by the way,” Jiffy ad
ds.

  “Which guy?” Grant looks around. “Doctor Bailey?”

  “No! The hide-and-seek guy!”

  “I hate him, too. But I love Doctor Bailey!” Max speaks up. “He saves puppies and kittens.”

  “I love him, too,” Jiffy agrees. “And I love puppies and kittens. I’m getting a puppy this summer. My mom said I can, to keep me out of trouble while she’s working.”

  “Can we get a puppy, too, Mom? To keep me out of trouble?”

  Bella smiles wearily. “Don’t you think a cat and eight kittens are enough?”

  “I need a puppy, too. And I need to go with Mr. Grant to the car wash. Can I?”

  Knowing it’s best to get him away from the house for a while, Bella agrees.

  “Yay! Let’s go!” Jiffy says, eager to hop into the red sports car.

  “First, you need to go ask your mom, too,” Odelia tells him.

  “She won’t care. She lets me do whatever I want.”

  That seems to strike a chord with Grant, who rests a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “No one gets to do whatever they want. Come on, let’s go talk to her.”

  As they disappear down the street, Bella sees a police car turn the corner. It rolls slowly toward them, crunching on gravel.

  Pandora, too, sees it coming. “I think I’ll go inside and brew some tea. I’m sure there must be some Yorkshire Gold Leaf in the pantry.”

  Predictably, Odelia trails her into the house, saying, “I’m sure there isn’t.”

  The door closes behind them, and Bella turns back to Max, wondering whether he’s noticed the approaching police car.

  He hasn’t. He’s facing the park at the opposite end of the street.

  “Mom, look!” He points. “Do you see it?”

  “The lake?”

  “No, the rainbow.”

  She searches the gray sky above the water. There are a few breaks in the clouds where patches of blue are starting to burst through the gloom, but no rainbow.

  “I don’t see it, Max.”

  “Well, it’s there.”

  Somehow, she doesn’t doubt that for a moment.

  Epilogue

  July 4

  Standing in the kitchen window washing the last of the breakfast things, Bella can see the sun valiantly attempting to peek through the low lake sky.