Sheila Connolly - Relatively Dead 02 - Seeing the Dead

by Sheila Connolly

  She shut her eyes, the better to recall the woman she’d seen. She hadn’t sensed anything out of the ordinary. She’d seen what she expected to see: a living breathing woman, although she’d been older than Abby had expected. Obviously Esther had been the right person to talk to, since she knew the Perry family history inside and out, and had pointed Abby in the right direction. Had Esther somehow engineered Helen’s absence? That seemed ridiculous—more likely it was just a lucky coincidence.

  Why was it that every time she thought she had a handle on things, the universe threw another curveball at her? She was okay with seeing flashes of dead people, if she interpreted it in terms of residual energy. That made sense to her. They had left an imprint behind that for some reason she could “read.” And it seemed that the imprint faded after her first sighting, like the electricity had been discharged. But Esther was a different case altogether. She’d been right there in front of her, talking to her, like any ordinary human being.

  When she’d sat down on the steps, she’d felt too shaky to think of driving. After a few minutes Abby felt steadier, and she knew what she had to do: go look for Esther, even though that sounded absurd, even to her. The only place she could think to look was the cemetery where Esther had been buried. She knew where the highway was, and Helen had said the cemetery lay just beyond it. It should be easy to find.

  Once in the car Abby concentrated on driving slowly and carefully; she couldn’t afford to dwell on what she had just learned or what she might find at the cemetery. The cemetery was, as she had expected, no more than a mile or two away. When she reached it, she turned into the driveway and parked near the entrance, since she had no idea which way to go.

  The cemetery was built on a low hill, rising up from the road. The older stones appeared at the nearer end, which meant that Esther would be closer to the top. Would her grave even be marked? Had whoever buried her been waiting until the ground thawed in the spring to install a stone? Or was there no one left to see to it? No spouse, no children. Just lots of ancestors. Were they here? Or had this site been chosen because there was no room left at the older cemetery in town?

  Abby started walking up the hill. It was getting late, and the sun was already low in the sky, off to the west. Abby didn’t think it mattered much: seeing Esther didn’t require physical light. She reached the top of the hill and turned around, looking at the graves spread out below, raggedy lines of them running down the hill. She could hear the sound of traffic on the highway, not far away. A lone car passed on the road in front of the cemetery. Abby shut her eyes.

  “I wondered when you’d show up,” a voice said from behind her. Abby opened her eyes and turned around to see Esther standing there, dressed as she had been the last time Abby had seen her. It was less appropriate here outside, but then, Esther couldn’t feel cold anymore, could she?

  Here goes nothing, Abby thought. “Hi, Esther. You were expecting me?”

  “I thought you’d figure it out. I certainly gave you enough hints. You want to sit?”

  “I think I’d better.”

  Esther pointed toward a bench along the one-lane road that led up the hill, and Abby walked over and sat. So did Esther, which puzzled Abby. Was she just being courteous? Or was it a habit from the last days she’d been alive?

  “Look, I’m kind of new at all this, and I don’t know how it all works. Forgive me if this is rude, but you’re dead, right?” Abby said.

  “I am. Died in October last year. I can’t tell you what they put on the death certificate—probably heart failure—but I died of old age, pure and simple. It was my time.”

  So no murder, no violent death—and nobody to grieve for her. “Why are you here?” Abby asked.

  “Damned if I know. No, I am not some mystical messenger sent from the Great Beyond to tell you something important. I’m just here.”

  “Here for me? Or here in general?”

  “Nobody else has seen me, if that’s your question. Didn’t really expect it—I’ve outlived most of my relations. I figure you’re family, though. Am I right?”

  Abby nodded. “If you go back a few generations, yes. That’s what you wanted me to find at the historical society, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You knew where I’d be?”

  “Once you got here. I couldn’t see you before you got to Littleton.”

  Well, that answered one of her questions. “So you can’t leave here?”

  “Look, young lady, I don’t know all the rules any more than you do. I was born in this town here, I died here. This is what I know. Why would I go anywhere else?”

  Abby shrugged. “I don’t know. So is there something you want to tell me, or are we just chatting?”

  “Guess I wanted you to know I was here. It can get lonely.”

  “What, you don’t see everybody you’ve ever known? Or at least the ones from here?”

  Esther shook her head. “Like I said, I’m new here. It’s not like everybody who ever was is milling around, and we all stop and have tea and swap gossip now and then.”

  Abby thought a moment, trying to figure out the most important questions to ask a ghost sitting next to her on a bench. She wasn’t going to touch “Is there a God?” or “Are there angels?” “Did you see … others like you when you were alive?”

  “Dead people, you mean? Maybe. When I was young … But nobody believed me anyway. When I got older, I said to myself, what the hey? If they want to visit, let ’em come. Caught some glimpses, maybe.”

  “Relatives or strangers?” Abby prompted.

  “My pa, my grandpa, a few others. Some I knew, some not. No strangers. Nobody famous or important either—George Washington hasn’t stopped by.”

  That confirmed what Abby had guessed. “You told me to look back up the Perry line.”

  Esther looked at her then. “I did. What’d you find?” Her look challenged Abby.

  Abby returned the look. “John Perry, who died in Cambridge in 1692. Was that the one you were thinking of?”

  “You’re smart—I’ll give you that. They called him a witch.”

  “They called a lot of people witches around that time. Were there any? Real ones, I mean?”

  “Hard to say. I wasn’t there, no matter how old you think I am. I never met one, face-to-face, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

  “Was John Perry a witch?” Abby said.

  “What do you think?” Esther replied. “Whatever the heck ‘witch’ means.”

  If she was forced to give a description at that moment, Abby would have to say “someone who has powers that most people don’t, which scares people.” Abby shelved that question for further thought. She tried a new tack. “Did you ever meet other people who could ‘see,’ the way you and I can?”

  “Maybe, but nobody ever talked about it. You?”

  “Yes. More than one now. People still don’t talk about it. But so far it’s only people seeing their own family members, like you.” Abby was seized with regret that Ned could never share this conversation, could never ask the questions Abby was trying to put together now. What would he want to know? “You think it’s something in the blood? Something passed down through the generations?”

  “That’d be my guess, but I can’t say for sure. But here you are, and you’re blood.”

  “I guess so.” Abby fell silent and realized she was getting cold. She hadn’t dressed for sitting in a cemetery at dusk, talking to a ghost.

  “Will you come back, to talk to me like this? Can you come back?” she asked at last.

  “To talk to you? Maybe. Like I keep saying, I don’t know how all this works yet. You got any more questions, you’d better ask them now.”

  For the life of her, Abby couldn’t think of anything else. Esther had told her she thought this phenomenon was hereditary. She thought she’d seen members of her own family, and guessed that there were other people with the same ability, but she’d never asked them directly. She hadn’t had to com
e to terms with being “different,” because she’d ignored whatever it was, much as Ned had. It seemed to be a fragile gift.

  “You’re cold,” Esther said. “You should go. Wouldn’t want you to catch your death.” There was a gleeful twinkle in her eye.

  Abby managed to smile in response to her joke. “I’ll come back. I hope you’ll be here.”

  “Maybe. But it’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young lady. Keep looking, will you?” Esther said.

  “I will, I promise.” Abby turned for a moment to see how dark it had become, and when she turned back, Esther was gone.

  But Abby wasn’t alone: halfway down the hill there was a child who looked a lot like Ellie. Abby shook her head to clear it, but when she looked again, the child was still there. Real? How ridiculous was it to have to ask yourself if what you were seeing was real?

  Abby stood up, dusted off her pants, and started down the hill. The child didn’t move, watching her approach. When Abby got close, she said, “Hi, Abby.”

  “Hi, Ellie,” Abby said. “What are you doing here?”

  “Mommy’s mad. And I like it here. My house isn’t very far away—over that way.” Ellie waved vaguely toward the top of the hill.

  Abby couldn’t remember how she and Ned had reached Leslie’s house, but she didn’t remember passing the cemetery. “You come here a lot?”

  “When I can. Not so much in winter.”

  “Why do you come?” Abby asked.

  “To see Hannah,” Ellie said, and looked beyond the nearest tombstone.

  Where Abby saw a child close in age to Ellie, but dressed in clothes nobody had worn for more than a century. “Can she see me?”

  “Sure.” Ellie motioned to the ghost girl—Hannah, was it?—who came a little closer, then stopped. Apparently she was shy.

  “What’s her last name, Ellie?” Abby asked softly.

  “Perry. See?” Ellie pointed toward the closest tombstone. Abby knelt to read it in the growing dark. Hannah S. Perry, died 1848, she read. Reuben’s youngest daughter, who had died at the age of eight, close to Ellie’s age. Abby glanced around quickly, checking to see if there were other Perrys nearby. Were they always hovering, or did they have other places to go? It was an odd little stone, set by itself, close to the driveway that led up the hill. After reading about Reuben’s questionable lifestyle, Abby had to wonder whether the other Perrys had been buried here but no one could afford to purchase stones. She tucked that thought away for later. Abby looked up to see Hannah had crept closer and was watching her. “Hi, Hannah. Nice to meet you. I’m Abby.” That brought a smile from Hannah, although she didn’t—couldn’t?—speak.

  It was nearly fully dark now, and cold. “Ellie, does your mother know where you are?”

  Ellie looked at her shoes and shook her head silently.

  “Did you have a fight or something?”

  Ellie looked at her then, with a hint of defiance. “She said I couldn’t talk to you anymore. That’s not fair.”

  “Ellie, your mom must be worried sick. Do you know your phone number?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Then give it to me and I’ll call her and tell her where you are.”

  “No!” Ellie protested quickly. “Then she won’t let me come back here!”

  Ellie had a point. Leslie would probably ground her for the next five years and keep an eagle eye on her, even without knowing where Ellie had been going. “I can take you home, then, but I’ll have to explain where I found you.” Ellie stared stubbornly at her. Abby knelt down in front of her. “Look, Ellie, you must have figured out by now that there’s a lot going on, and your mother doesn’t understand most of it. But it’s time to try to explain things to her. She’s going to be upset, and she’s going to be mad at me, but only because she loves you and worries about you. You’re a smart kid, and you can do this thing that most people can’t do and can’t even understand, so it may take a while before it makes sense to your mother. Can you understand that?”

  “I guess.” Ellie wouldn’t meet Abby’s eyes. “But I want to see you, because you’re the only one who understands about … Hannah and the others.”

  So there were others around? But this was not the time to worry about that. “I know, but you’re going to have to be patient. I know that’s hard, but I think your mom will come around, once she gets used to it. Want me to call her now?”

  Ellie nodded. Abby stood up and pulled out her cell phone, and thought for a moment. She’d had it turned off at the historical society, and she saw she had several messages, mainly from Ned. She realized that if she was going to face Leslie now, she would need his backup, so she hit the Return Call key.

  He answered on the second ring. “Abby, where the hell are you?”

  “In a cemetery in Littleton. Ellie’s here with me.”

  “What, you kidnapped the kid?”

  “No, I did not kidnap her. She was already here, and I just happened to find her. I assume Leslie’s been looking for her?”

  “Damn straight she has. She’s ready to call the police.”

  “I’ll take her home right now, but you should be there too. There’s a lot to talk about, and you need to know a few things.”

  “I’ll meet you at Leslie’s in fifteen. And I’ll call her and tell her you’re on your way with Ellie.” He hung up abruptly.

  No surprise, he was pissed off. That was nothing compared to how Leslie was going to be shortly when they showed up with Ellie. But there was no escaping it. Abby held out her hand. “Come on, Ellie, I’m taking you home. You’ll have to show me the way.”

  Ellie took it. “Okay.” She turned to follow Abby, but then called out over her shoulder, “Bye, Hannah!”

  Abby looked back to see Hannah give a small wave.

  27

  Ellie clearly knew the way home from the cemetery, even by road, and they arrived quickly—too quickly for Abby. Obviously Ned wasn’t going to arrive for a while, but she couldn’t just sit in the car with Ellie while Leslie fumed inside the house. She looked at her young companion, who had maintained a stony silence during the ride, except to issue directions.

  “You ready for his, Ellie?”

  “She’s gonna be mad,” Ellie said in a sulky voice.

  “Your mother has every right to be mad. You’re a kid—you can’t just disappear for hours at a time without letting somebody know where you are.” Abby decided that this was not the time and place to describe the presence of real kidnappers and child molesters in the world, even in this peaceful suburb.

  “I can’t tell her I’ve been going to the cemetery. She won’t understand. She’ll say I can’t go anymore.”

  Abby sighed. “I know, Ellie, and you’re right. I’ll do what I can, but she’s going to be really mad at me, and I don’t think she’ll listen when I try to explain.” She opened her door and waited until Ellie had opened her side. “Come on, kid—time to face the music.”

  They started up the walk, but the front door of the house flew open when they were only halfway there. Leslie stood silhouetted against the light for a moment, and then she rushed toward her daughter and grabbed her in a fierce hug. “Don’t you ever, ever do that again, Ellen Walker! You know how scared I was?”

  “Sorry, Mom,” Ellie said, squirming in her mother’s grasp.

  “Where were you?” Leslie demanded.

  Ellie glanced at Abby quickly before answering. “At the cemetery over the hill.”

  “What? Why? Were you there alone?” Leslie demanded.

  Ellie shrugged. “I like it there.”

  That was an answer that wouldn’t satisfy anybody, much less a frantic mother, but the explanation would have to wait. Abby squared her shoulders as Leslie stood up to her full height and confronted her. “You! What the hell were you thinking?”

  Abby had little reason to believe that acting calm and reasonable in the face of Leslie’s wrath would do any good, but she had to say something. “Leslie, I was alrea
dy at the cemetery, looking for someone’s stone. I happened to run into Ellie there. That’s all. I brought her here immediately.” She hoped Ellie wouldn’t mention that they’d stopped to meet Hannah, who was dead.

  Whatever Leslie had planned to say next, she was forced to swallow when she looked up to see Ned’s car pull into her driveway. “Oh, sh … ortbread,” Leslie muttered. “What the hell is he doing here?” she said more loudly to Abby.

  “I called him. Leslie, we have a lot to talk about, and Ned has to be part of it, and it kind of involves what happened today. Just hear us out, please?” Abby stalled long enough for Ned to reach them where they were standing on the front walk.

  “Hello, Leslie,” he said. “I’m sorry for all this.”

  At the sound of his voice, Ellie had turned away from her mother to face him, curiosity etched on her face. Abby watched their first interaction with trepidation. What would Ned do next? If he offered to shake hands with her, would all hell break loose? Or did whatever was in their blood call to its own, and Ellie wouldn’t need any explanation? Abby shot a glance at Leslie, who looked—scared? At this point Abby felt sorry for everyone, herself included. She had no idea how to sort any of this out.

  Finally Leslie swallowed and said, “Ellie, this is Ned Newhall, a friend of mine. And Abby’s.”

  Ellie was studying Ned’s face, her head cocked to the side. “Hello, Mr. Newhall. Nice to meet you.” She didn’t offer to shake hands, and Abby breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you, Ellie. I’m happy to meet you too.” He looked up at Leslie. “Can we take this inside? Like Abby said, we have a lot to talk about.”