Haunted

by Tamara Thorne

  She shook her head, letting him take the scythe from her, watching as he hooked the weapon through the neck hole of a pillory. That struck her as funny and she allowed a tiny hysterical giggle to escape. "No, not amazing," she said, as more giggles came. "But after I tell you how I did it, you're never going to want to watch baseball again." She collapsed against him, giving in to the release of laughter and tears. Around them, the scent of lavender lingered.

  "Will somebody please let me out of here!" Jerry Romero cried plaintively.

  Chapter Sixty-four

  Body House: 4:34A.M.

  "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you?”

  "No, Dad, I'm fine." Amber, dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans, a backpack slung over one shoulder, gave David a kiss on the cheek. "I called Kelly and she's expecting me. I just want to get out of here, you know?"

  "I know, I know. But do you really feel like driving yourself?"

  "Are you afraid I'm going to wreck the Bronco, Dad?"

  He smiled weakly. "No, kiddo, but--"

  Melanie smiled to herself as she watched David fuss over his daughter. She could tell that Amber was trying very hard not to show how irritated she was at being treated like a child, and Melanie thought it was the most wonderful thing in the world, getting to watch those two bicker and fuss with each other.

  So much had happened in the hour since she'd hit a home run with Christabel's head--she couldn't think of it in any other way and the thought made a crazy giggle try to bubble out even now, but she stifled it without David and Amber hearing, thank God. It seemed like years had gone by.

  They'd had to answer a few official questions as soon as the police arrived, but fortunately, they worked for Craig, who had cut things short by explaining that he'd be overseeing the details of the reports and investigation himself in the morning.

  At that, Dr. Shayrock, a tall wiry guy who looked to Melanie like he should still be in school, gave Craig a severe look, but the chief had merely called him an old mother hen and assured everyone that no flesh wound was going to keep him from being at work on time.

  Melanie was glad she'd seen Craig handle the man because the minute the paramedics loaded up the Swensons--they and the doctor having assured the others that Eric was in no real danger--the doctor was all over Melanie, who was still suffering from giggling fits as baseball pun after baseball pun popped into her head. Having seen Craig's firm tactics, she did the same. "Doctor, I'm working out my trauma," she'd explained as the realization that if Christabel had had two heads, it would have been a double header made her start giggling again. "If you stop me from dealing with it now, I'll just have to later."

  Reluctantly, he left her alone, though he insisted on giving her a supply of tranquilizers. And the truth was, she was glad he did--later, she'd be happy to pop a couple and go to sleep for a century or two. But for now, she wanted to be fully alert.

  After that, things had moved even more quickly. Jerry Romero had to be dealt with. He had complained bitterly about missing "the show," and hadn't let up until David promised him he could come back tomorrow and film whatever he damn well pleased Still, the man wouldn't leave, until Amber, who seemed to have fared better than anyone, told him about the doctor's photo album with its picture of Christabel. Romero immediately chatted up Shayrock, who was flattered and pleased and took the man home with him.

  Now, Melanie saw Amber walking her way. She stood up, her legs still a little shaky.

  "No, Mel, don't get up."

  "I already did." She walked into Amber's extended arms and traded a long, warm hug.

  "Thanks for coming," the teen said normally. She glanced at David, who had joined them sometime during the embrace. "She saved our bacon, didn't she, Dad? We wouldn't have made it without her." She winked at Melanie as she spoke.

  Bless your matchmaking little heart, Amber, but you don't understand: if he doesn't love me anymore, nothing I do will make him love me again.

  "Yeah, kiddo, she sure did." As he spoke, he gazed steadily at Melanie.

  "Oh, you would have been fine without me." She smiled weakly, butterflies shooting through her stomach as she wondered how she should read his look.

  "Kelly's waiting for me," Amber said. "I'd better go." She paused. "Are you guys going to stay here or what?" She hesitated. "I mean, it's so creepy and all. Maybe you should go to a hotel."

  "We'll see, kiddo. I'll phone you in the morning and we'll decide where to meet." David was grinning at his daughter's not-so-subtle hints and Melanie took that as a good sign, although, when he glanced at her, she was careful to keep her expression neutral.

  "Where all three of us will meet right?" Amber asked.

  "Sure."

  "Good." She gave her dad one more hug. "Don't call before noon, okay?”

  "Okay."

  The moment Amber shut the door behind her, Melanie's heart started to pound. She walked over to the cabinet containing the dolls. "Do you suppose that there were souls in these, too, David?"

  "Yes." He joined her. Taking a small key from his pocket, he unlocked the cabinet and extracted one of the dolls, a pretty blonde in a yellow dress. "I wonder..." he said and began undoing the dress. "This one, like most of these, just had a little pinhole in its breast. I assume that means the woman she represented would have had a heart attack when Christabel shoved the pin in."

  "Yes, that makes sense," Melanie said softly. Having him so near, made her want to hug him, as she impulsively had when they'd first seen one another at the party. But he might not like it. Go slow, she cautioned herself. Let him make the first move… If he's going to make one at all.

  "There," he said, exposing the doll's torso. "The little hole is gone. See?"

  She studied the smooth china. "Yes. What does it mean?"

  "I think that if we looked, we'd find that all the dolls 'wounds' have disappeared and that it happened when the souls were released."

  "What a lovely thought," she said. Suddenly, lavender wafted around them. "Lizzie's here."

  "Maybe she's waiting to see us out," David said gently.

  "After all, she's the hostess." He paused awkwardly. "Are you going to a hotel?"

  "Why?"

  "Uh, well, I thought I'd rent a room. I don't want to stay here either, quite frankly." His smile was a little crooked. "I think Lizzie would appreciate it if we'd hurry up and leave so she can too."

  Melanie felt like crying. Do you want to share a room with me, David? Do you want to see if we've still got it? She couldn't bring herself to say the words. Lavender swirled into her nostrils, and for one brief instant, Lizzie was in her mind, but she said nothing. Just passing through, Melanie thought. "It'll be dawn soon:" Her words surprised her.

  "Yes, it will." David smiled and the way the skin around his tired eyes crinkled sent a little worm of pleasure through her.

  "I've never seen dawn on the West Coast," she said. "Are you up for a walk?"

  He looked surprised, then chuckled. "Sure. But dawn's not spectacular here. Sunset is. Maybe tonight..." His words trailed off. "Let's walk out to Widow's Peak. To the lighthouse."

  He held the door for her and, as she stepped onto the veranda, Lizzie's scent followed them, though when they started down the stairs, she knew that the spirit of Lizzie Baudey had remained behind.

  Chapter Sixty-five

  Widow’s Peak: 4:59 A.M

  David stood with Melanie at the westernmost tip of Widow's Peak and listened to the cry of a gull, a forlorn melody to accompany the soft, insistent cadence of the waves as they crashed against the rocks below. Behind them, the eastern sky had just begun to show the first pale glimmerings of dawn, but here, night continued its dark rule.

  David thought that the full moon looked like a huge gold coin, a pirate's ransom, as it hung low over the ocean and cast its shimmering reflections against the dark water. A single fishing boat, a dot of yellow light lazily riding the waves, lay at anchor just outside the bay. To the north, Red Cay, with its crisscross o
f street lights, appeared to be nothing more than a child's miniature toy town.

  All these things served only to deepen David's melancholy, to strengthen his fear that he had lived through this night only to some day die a lonely old man, bereft of love, without the woman who was standing silently beside him.

  "It's beautiful here, isn't it?" Melanie spoke in the same soft tone she'd used ever since she'd gained control over her hysterics down in Body House's dungeon.

  "Yes. Beautiful." David didn't know how to read her, and afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing, thus assuring his lonesome fate, he said no more, but continued to stand there and look out to sea, hoping that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but fearing that she did not. When Amber had encouraged them to go to a hotel, David had smiled at Melanie, but she'd looked cool and unimpressed. That left him afraid to try again. Her icy expression was bad enough: to actually hear her reject him was too much right now.

  He wondered if the old wounds ran too deep to allow them to try again. He wanted to ask her, but it seemed futile if he was too afraid of her answer. Maybe, he thought, that meant he was fooling himself in thinking he wanted to try.

  "Are you going to stay here?" she asked normally. "In Red Cay?"

  "No, not here. The view's great," he added lightly, "but I've had just about all I can take of Body House. I was sort of thinking about looking for a place in Connecticut. Something nice. You know, less than a dozen rooms, central air, a pool, no ghosts."

  She glanced at him, amused, and, he thought, interested.

  "Really? Why Connecticut?"

  "It's an easy commute to the city," he explained. "I miss Manhattan." He saw the corner of her mouth crook briefly in a tiny smile, and took a chance. "I miss you."

  "I miss you, too." She stared at the water. "But..."

  "I know." He examined his fingers intently. "But we can still be friends."

  "Friends," she said sadly. "Just friends."

  He didn't know what she meant and was afraid to ask for fear the answer was not the one he wanted.

  They studied the sea for a long time.

  "Lizzie's still in there," she said normally. "In the house. All the others, the ones Christabel had trapped, they left. But Lizzie didn't."

  "I think she was waiting for us," David said.

  "Then why didn't she leave when we did?" Melanie asked in that same soft, sad voice. "She stayed on the veranda."

  "I don't know. Maybe she's gone now. Maybe she's got unfinished business."

  "It's cold out here," Melanie said, moving closer to him. He slipped his arm around her. "Do you think Lizzie and her captain will find each other now?" A cool breeze eddied around them, fluffing Melanie's hair and tickling his ears.

  "I hope so." As he spoke, he turned to face her, determined to ask his question at last; that she had moved closer to him and now cuddled into his arm, gave him the courage. But he stopped short as he detected a vague movement of shadows against the pale lighthouse wall. "Look," he whispered.

  She followed his gaze. "What is it?" she murmured.

  "I think it's the answer to your question." He took her hand, and as they walked slowly toward the tower, he knew he was right. Drawing nearer, he could see the shadows take on form, but no substance. The spirits of the long-lost lovers stood facing one another. Ezra Wilder, free now of Christabel's curse, had lost the solidity he'd acquired when his doll was broken.

  "Dear God," Melanie whispered. "She was waiting for us to leave so she could find her captain. Do you think we should leave? They probably want privacy."

  "No," David said. "Let's wait a moment."

  They halted a few feet from the spirits, who were caught up in one another, and seemed unaware of them.

  Lizzie, the green of her dress barely discernable in the dim gray light of dawn, tilted her face toward her captain and, slowly, Ezra lifted his hand to touch her cheek.

  But his fingers merely brushed through her image. Her face sad, Lizzie tried to take his hand, but neither one could seem to touch the other. Longingly, they gazed at one another.

  "David?" Melanie murmured. "Do you think we could--"

  "Yes. Come on."

  Hand in hand, they approached the ghostly lovers. The spirits, lost in their own world, didn't seem aware of them until Melanie reached out to Lizzie, letting her fingers drift into the cool, ghostly energy. The spirits studied them for a long moment, then looked back at one another. Ezra smiled gently at the luminous face of his beloved.

  And then they joined with the living couple and, as Ezra slipped into his body and mind like a cool sea breeze, David felt hot tears of joy, his own and the captain's, spring to his eyes.

  Slowly, he lifted his hand to touch Melanie's radiant face, marveling anew at the feel of her soft, smooth skin, then bending to kiss away the hot tear that fled down her cheek. Mingled images shot through his brain, memories of himself and Melanie in other times, and the captain's memories of Lizzie, clothed in different times and places, yet identical in their joy and longing. In their love.

  Trembling, he moved his lips to hers and, as they embraced, all thought fell away in a fire of emotion, in a blaze of love requited. Eighty years or a few months, they felt the same bittersweet, rapturous joy.

  At last, David sensed that the captain was ready to depart. He and Melanie parted, though they still held hands and, as the spirits moved away from them, the living couple· stared into one another's eyes, speaking without words, as they had done so often in times past.

  A swirl of lavender drew their attention and they turned to see Lizzie Baudey and Ezra Wilder watching them with pleasure on their faces and, as he drew Melanie closer to him, he knew that he and Melanie had been Lizzie's unfinished business.

  Lizzie and Ezra's time on earth was complete now, and as he watched them, they became more and more transparent, fading away until they were only flickers. It seemed sad, in a way, to see them go, though there was only joy on their faces as they disappeared.

  The first low rays of sunlight were shooting through the pines near the lighthouse as David turned to Melanie, pulling her closer and looking into her emerald eyes. "I once found my one true love," he told her softly, "but I didn't know it. I was foolish and I lost her."

  She brushed a lock of hair from his eyes then ran her finger down over his cheek and across his lips. "Funny," she said, just before he kissed her, "the same thing happened to me."

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Tamara Thorne has collected ghost stories, true and fictional, since she saw her first Twilight Zone as a tot, and continues to this day. In addition to writing novels and stories of the paranormal, she also writes non-fiction and is an active ghost hunter. She makes her home in southern California with her husband and their feline family and when she’s not writing, can be found haunting ghost towns, phantom-filled hotel rooms, and other spooky places. Tamara loves to hear from her readers. Whether you have questions or comments or would like to share your own ghostly experience,

  TamaraThorne.com

  For John Scognamiglio--

  Nobody does it better

  E-book Acknowledgements

  Jared Anderson, G. J. Phoenix, and Jennifer German: I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you for your friendship and your help!

  Acknowledgements:

  An odd lot of thanks are in order here. First, thanks to my keepers, Kay and John, for moral and immoral support. It wouldn't be any fun without you two.

  Much of the inspiration for certain aspects of this book came from late-night bar bitching, so cheers to bar buddies Craig, Matt, Rick, Lisa, Nancy, Ginjer, Chris, and Charlie.

  Thanks to Kevin Shrock, M.D., for answering my blood-soaked questions. Leaps of logic should be blamed on the author, not the doctor.

  Last but not least, thank you to the man who puts the Pismo in Pismo Beach, my darling Damien, explorer of caverns and grottos, keeper of the fire down below.

  amara Thorne, Haunted