He squinted at her. “What?”
“Your son just spoke. Clearly.”
A bewildered smile and a head shake. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. He freaked me out. I…I don’t know if I can continue—”
“What did he say?”
“He gave himself a new name.”
Senator Provost eyed her in disbelief and then let out a small, amused laugh.
“Seriously. Clear as a bell, he told me not to call him Ethan.”
He didn’t believe her, but Jen didn’t care. “He wants to be called Xavier,” she said, her voice low and confidential.
“Jen, this isn’t funny. Ethan can’t talk.”
“Come with me. I’ll prove it.”
Upstairs, they entered Ethan’s room together. He’d rebooted the computer and, as usual, the child was in front of the monitor, his back to them as he stared at bridges.
“Xavier,” Jen said, feeling powerful like she was responsible for Ethan’s ability to speak. Ethan didn’t turn around. He remained mute.
“Don’t call him that,” the senator chastised, quickly approaching his son. “Hey, buddy.” He bent down to the child’s level. “How’s it going? Enjoying looking at those bridges, huh?”
Ethan, his body rocking, his eyes intense and focused on the screen, didn’t respond to his father’s presence.
“Xavier!” Jen’s voice cracked. She placed her hands on the child’s shoulder, trying to still his annoying movement, but he thrust forward, forcing her hands to slide off of his small shoulders.
“He doesn’t talk. You can’t bully him into accepting a name change.”
“He told me to call him Xavier. I wouldn’t make up something like that. I swear to God…” Jen raised her hand in earnest.
The senator regarded her with a look of weary patience. “You’re overwrought…working around the clock is getting to you and I apologize. I’m going to call the agency in the morning and get another nanny.”
“Are you firing me?” Jen asked, panicked. “I don’t want to lose my job.”
“No, no. I’m not firing you. Ethan requires two nannies. It was thoughtless of Catherine and me to put you in this situation with no backup…no support.” He smiled at Jen; his eyes were warm and compassionate.
A few minutes ago, she’d been ready to pack it up and go back to Centerville with her tail between her legs. Now, she was prepared to hang in there a little longer—for the sake of the internship. Maybe her imagination was getting the best of her, she decided.
Senator Provost patted his son on his shoulders. He looked at Jen for a few moments. There was sympathy in his eyes. “Hang in there, Jen,” he said with a sigh, and then left the room to rejoin his guests.
Getting Ethan to bed had been awful. He demonstrated his refusal by stiffening his body and stretching his lips into a tight line. Jen was used to that behavior, but it was the fear that those lips might part and emit sound—words—spoken in an otherworldly rasp.
Sure, she could chalk it up to an overactive imagination later, but while she was in the moment, she was terrified. Jen laid him on his bed with his clothes on. She’d change him into his pajamas after he fell asleep.
In her own bedroom now, Jen massaged her forehead, stressed. Dealing with Ethan had been bad enough, and as if her nerves weren’t frazzled enough, the unexpected buzz that caused her cell phone to wobble on the nightstand gave her a terrible jolt.
She picked it up, expecting to see Catherine’s name. Jen squinted. She didn’t recognize the number of the caller. So many strange things had occurred, it seemed entirely possible that the ghost lady could be calling.
Jen shuddered as she envisioned the female apparition sprinting across the bridge, this time with a cell phone pressed against her ear. Jen gulped down a knot of fear.
“Hello?” she whispered. She was going to freak out and smash the phone against the wall if she heard the slightest bit of distortion or any spooky crackling sounds that were indicative of a phone call from hell.
“Jen?” It was a male voice. No distortion, no crackling sounds. His voice was friendly and very familiar. A wave of relief washed over her.
“Yes, this is Jen.”
“Hi, this is Rome. Hope I didn’t wake you.” His voice was silk. Conflicting emotions raced through Jen…relief that ghost lady didn’t have her number and agitation at the audacity of this pushy policeman.
Why was he harassing her? Chestnut Hill was pretty peaceful, with a low crime rate, and obviously his job was not fast-paced and stressful or he wouldn’t have had time to shoot the breeze when she’d fallen in the mud. But was he that desperate to make an arrest that he telephoned a suspected victim, trying to persuade her to press charges against an imaginary assailant?
“I’m awake,” she admitted in a sullen tone. Hot cop or not… she wasn’t going to allow him to sweet talk her into telling him what really happened. “I see dead people” might be a powerful line in the movies but if those words came out of her mouth, Hot Cop would think she was a basket case.
“Just checking on you. I waited for you to call, but I got the hint. You’re the type of female who likes the man to make the first move. Am I right?”
Jen was annoyed by his self-assurance. “I’m confused. Is this a social call or part of your investigation?” She could have used stronger wording, but Rome was cute enough to get away with it with a mere pat on the wrist.
“Social? Is that a polite way of asking if this is a booty call?” He laughed. Jen didn’t. “It’s social,” he said when he realized she wasn’t amused. “But it’s also business.”
“Oh, really.”
“Yeah. See, I like female mud wrestling. I thought you might want to get into the circuit.”
“What?”
“The mud wrestling circuit. Need a manager?”
She laughed. A sincere, from-the-tummy guffaw. She hadn’t laughed heartily since…since before she had gotten kicked out of school. Feeling perked up, she said, “You’re funny. I didn’t have you pegged as the comedic type.”
“I have my moments. So why did you decide to go out for a run today?”
Disappointment wiped the smile off of her face. She’d almost believed that he was calling because he was interested in her. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t normally run along Wissahickon Creek. Why today?”
“I needed fresh air and exercise. I ended up on Forbidden Drive. Look, I thought you said this call wasn’t about an investigation.”
“Not officially because you claim you weren’t attacked.”
“I wasn’t,” Jen snapped.
“I’m not deliberately trying to get on your bad side. Okay? You can trust me. I know something happened to you.”
“Yeah, I fell.”
“You were running and crying and looking over your shoulder in fear. That’s not the normal behavior for someone who simply stumbled and fell.” He paused. “If you want to talk about it…you know, without filing a report or anything…” His words came out slowly and in a lower register. As though it were an afterthought, he added, “I’m a good listener.”
The offer was so tempting. She paced her bedroom, wondering if she should risk telling him what she’d seen. No! she decided adamantly. Carmen and Lizzy didn’t believe her and they knew her to be somewhat rational and sane. Hot Cop, Rome, didn’t know her from a can of paint, so why should he take her seriously? “Like I said, I fell.”
“Okay. I won’t press the subject. You don’t run every day, do you?”
“No. How do you know?” She glanced at her thighs and hips in the mirror, trying to assess whether her body broadcasted the fact that she rarely exercised.
“Forbidden Drive is in my jurisdiction; it’s part of my regular patrol. In the course of a week, I can’t count how many times I cruise that part of town. I’m thoroughly familiar with all the popular jogging trails…and the joggers and the pets that run alongside them.” He chuckled. “If you were one
of the regulars, I’d remember you. A pretty lady like you would be hard to forget.”
He was flirting. She wished she had it in her to flirt back, but that would require a level of confidence and a sense of well-being that she simply wasn’t feeling. She was too shaken up from all the peculiar events that had taken place to shift into vixen mode.
Knowing that his one and only visual of her was of a running crazed woman who looked like she’d taken a mud bath did not motivate her to respond with a witty remark.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. And that was all she could think of to say. She felt awkward as hell during the following few seconds of silence.
“So…uh…what did you say you do?” Rome asked, his voice penetrating the void.
“Um. I didn’t say.”
“Is that info classified?”
“No, I guess not. I’m a nanny.”
“No shit?”
“Why is that so surprising?”
“You don’t strike me as one of those Chestnut Hill nannies that I see shuttling kids to school and transporting them around town in luxury strollers that probably cost more than the truck that I drive.”
Jen couldn’t stifle a giggle. Rome was right; the people who lived in this affluent section of Philadelphia were loaded. Nannies toting kids around in style was all a part of the Chestnut Hill scenery.
“You just don’t seem like the nanny type.”
I’m not! Jen didn’t have any experience in child care and would have never, in a million years, imagined herself in the nanny role, but a girl’s gotta do…
“Is there a stereotypical nanny?” she quipped.
“Well, they’re usually a lot older. I see lots of young college kids doing nanny duty, but there’s a huge turnover. They don’t last long.” He paused. “As hard as it is to believe…I had a nanny once…for a couple of days.”
“Oh, really?” She didn’t believe him. Rome didn’t give the impression of being from an affluent family and how many kids whose parents could afford a nanny would aspire to become a cop? He was probably joking.
“I know that being a nanny is like being an extension of the kid you’re looking after, so I can understand why the college kids don’t last for long. You’re not much older than a college kid yourself. How are you managing to stick with the job?”
She wanted to tell Rome that she doubted if she’d last much longer, but that was much more information than she was willing to provide to someone she barely knew.
“How come I’ve never seen you around town, pushing a stroller or tugging along a screaming toddler?” Rome asked.
“The boy I take care of is…well, he’s autistic and uh…let’s just say, he’s not a people person.”
During a couple seconds of silence, it seemed Jen could hear Rome’s wheels spinning as he began to put two and two together.
“Are you talking about Catherine Provost’s son?”
Jen sighed. “Yes, but I’m not supposed to discuss—”
“I heard her acceptance speech. That thing with her son…his condition. It’s really sad.”
Jen sighed into the phone, letting him know she was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.
“Well, it’s not a secret. She made the announcement.”
“Right. But I have to honor the agreement I signed. I can’t discuss the Provost family. At all.”
“I know they live in Chestnut Hill—that big house over on Mermaid Lane,” he continued. “But it never occurred to me that you worked for the Provosts. Wow,” Rome repeated, apparently very impressed.
“Moving along…”
“Got it. Look, I’m not gonna keep you on the phone. I wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you.”
Jen softened. “That’s sweet. Thank you.”
“So look, have a good night. And…uh…don’t be a stranger. Give me a call sometime.”
“I will.”
“Meanwhile, stay off that section of Forbidden Drive. Lately, there’s been some strange shit happening on Piper’s Bridge.”
“Strange? Like what!” She was stunned.
“You wouldn’t believe it.”
“I might. What happened on the bridge?”
“Oh, man,” Rome said with a sigh. “This is confidential, okay. I’m an officer of the law and I can’t have the citizens I’m supposed to protect get the idea that I’m off of my rocker. Know what I’m saying?”
“Sure.” Jen nodded enthusiastically, as if he could see her.
Rome blew out another heavy sigh. “This is crazy,” he said, as if to himself. “So crazy, I haven’t told a soul.”
“What?” Her voice was a whisper. “Tell me,” she prodded.
“The first time I saw it, I had to pull over to get my head straight.”
“I can imagine.”
“No, baby, I don’t think you can. But let me try to describe it the best way that I can.”
“Okay…”
“I have this gift. I guess you can call it a gift. Here lately, it seems more like a curse. My grandma said I was born with a veil over my face.”
“A veil?”
“Yeah, that’s an old-fashioned expression. I was born with a thin layer of skin covering my face.”
“Eew.”
“I know—sounds nasty, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, really gross.”
“You don’t talk like a Philly chick. Where are you from?”
“Centerville.”
“Where’s that?”
“Near Meadville, Pennsylvania.”
“I’ve never heard of either of those places.”
“Twelve hours away. It’s rural. Farm country. The closest big city is Erie.”
“If you consider Erie a big city, you must really be from the sticks.”
“Yeah, unfortunately. Living around cornfields and having the Amish as your closest neighbor…well, you can imagine, it wasn’t an exciting life.”
“Oh, so that’s why you’re so nice and thick—you’re a corn-fed girl,” he teased.
Was that a compliment? “Are you deliberately trying to change the subject? You were telling me about that extra flesh you were born with. And by the way, what does your veil have to with Piper’s Bridge?”
“Old folks say that if a child is born with a veil covering its face, the child will grow up being able to have visions.”
“Visions? As in seeing the future?”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t the case. If it were, I’d know what tomorrow brings and I’d make all the right choices in life. I can’t complain, though. We learn from our mistakes, right? Can’t learn anything or grow as a person if you already have the answers to life’s tests.”
“That went way over my head,” Jen admitted.
“I know; being born with that veil makes me get kinda extra sometimes.” He laughed at himself.
“You were about to tell me about the gift you were born with. Bet it helps you fight crime here in tranquil Chestnut Hill.”
“Crime is not restricted to the ’hood,” he said casually. “Even an affluent neighborhood like Chestnut Hill has its share of law breakers,” Rome said.
“True. But I doubt if you’ve ever had to dodge any bullets around here.”
Rome laughed. Jen joined him in hearty laughter.
“So like I said, I don’t have the gift of prophecy but I’ve been seeing ghosts pretty much all my life.”
She felt a little chill run over her. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, they’re harmless. They don’t bother me. They usually have surprised expressions, like they accidentally stumbled into this world. They don’t say “boo” or make things go bump in the night. They disappear as quickly as they appear.” He drew in a deep breath. “But that woman on the bridge… Man, she wasn’t any ordinary ghost. She’s the most menacing spirit I’ve ever seen.”
The hairs stood up on the back of Jen’s neck. “You saw a female ghost?”
“Yeah. A bla
ck woman. Dark skinned and dig this…she has these spooky blue eyes that she uses like a flashlight, scoping out shit while she’s running back and forth on the bridge.”
“Was she naked?”
“Butt-ass naked! How do you know?”
“I saw her, too!” Jen pressed her palm against the center of her chest.
“So, that’s why you were looking back at the bridge while you were running,” he said, enlightened. “This thing has had me thinking I was losing it. Seeing the same ghost is disturbing. It’s never happened before. I’ve been trying to figure out why she keeps appearing on the bridge…acting confused and looking angry as hell.”
Jen noticed the noise level downstairs had decreased. Party must have ended. “I don’t know. The craziest thing is that I also saw her on—” A sudden crash—the sound of shattering glass. “I have to go.”
“Wait. You can’t leave a brother hanging like this? Where else did you see her?”
“I’ll call you later. I promise.” Jen had to check on Ethan; make sure he was all right. She hung up and rushed to the boy’s bedroom.
Ethan was sleeping like a baby. Well, maybe not like a baby… more like a tired old man. The house was quiet. The senator’s friends must have gone…maybe he’d gone with them. It wasn’t like the senator to leave without telling her.
Rome’s admission about the veil thing and his disclosure of seeing spirits on a regular basis had her spooked. Jen was not thrilled with the idea of being in the house alone, and she dreaded having to investigate the breaking glass. Damn, damn, damn. Maybe she should call Rome back and have him on the line in case there was an intruder in the house.
Despite her fear, she descended the stairs. Not because she was feeling heroic, but because she refused to remain upstairs—trapped and at the mercy of a crazed home invader. Being downstairs gave her a sliver of a chance to escape. Sorry, Ethan. The child would be left to his own defenses, but she was sure he’d make out okay. If Ethan awoke and felt threatened, he’d launch into one of his “episodes,” scaring the crap out of a burglar.
To be honest, Ethan didn’t even have to perform his dreadful, high-pitched scream. The sight of his stiffened body and the added horror of his eyes rolled to the back of his head would shatter the nerves of the most heinous criminal, sending him scurrying into the night.
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