Sound

by Juliet Madison

  “I fussed over the spill, saying how sorry I was and how her dad would be so upset, and then she started crying.”

  Mandy? Crying?

  “She said that he wouldn’t care, and that the only thing he cares about is hitting the jackpot. She’s only drinking because she wants him to notice her and take a stand and be a father to her. She just blurted all this out while she mopped up the spill.”

  “Again, sad,” Talia said.

  “I kinda felt sorry for her, but I still needed information, so I asked her to tell me about her mother. She said the one nice thing her dad has said to her is that she got her mother’s good looks. So I asked if she had any photos of her mom so I could see the resemblance.”

  Man, she definitely was good. “And she got out the photo album, am I right?” I asked.

  “You are. I took the album hostage and flipped through it casually as she spoke, then when I came to the picture of our ghostly acquaintances, I commented on how old the photo looked, and she took it from there. To be honest, I think she enjoyed having someone listening to her tragic story.”

  “Maybe Mandy is not so bad after all,” said Talia.

  There is always a reason…The psychic’s words echoed in my ears.

  “That’s what I started to think too,” said Savannah. “But that was up until the next thing she said. I told her she shouldn’t be so mean to Lara just because she was living in her family home, and revealed to her about Lara’s inherited disease and unfortunate fate. But instead of admitting she’d been cruel and would stop, Mandy simply said, ‘Well, at least her mother is around now. And at least she gets to live the high life before she dies.’ Then she opened a new bottle of some other alcohol and took a swig. She said her dad would be home soon and asked me to leave.” Savannah sat on the bed, her animated body language suddenly deflating.

  “Now that’s more like the Mandy we all know,” said Sasha.

  “Yeah,” I said. There might always be a reason behind a person’s actions, but that didn’t make their actions acceptable. And just because the ghosts used to be real people who lived in Mandy’s family home didn’t mean they had a right to take over and scare the new family living there.

  I was about to send a long text message to Damon explaining the situation, but before I could, a ringing sounded in my ears and they itched. Savannah looked at me with squinted eyes, Sasha’s nose twitched, Tamara’s mouth moved like she was tasting something, and Talia began wringing her hands. Yep, no matter where we were, what we were doing, and whether we liked it or not, it was time to connect.

  Chapter 19

  The door creaked. The floorboards creaked. And a voice punctuated the silence: “It’s not right.” I knew the voice, of course. It was as familiar to me as the sounds that marked my entry to the Jamesons’ sitting room. Only I wasn’t there, except in my mind.

  The old woman, Audrey, spoke again: “It belongs to us.”

  Now I knew what she was talking about. And now, I knew that I’d have the thrilling pleasure of communicating with her again in the not-too-distant future. Whatever sounds entered my mind during our connections were destined to manifest, unless the premonition inspired some sort of action to prevent them. Being a Delta Girl was like getting VIP access to exclusive movie previews, but of your own life. And if you didn’t like the plot twists, you had a chance, however small and uncertain, to rewrite the outcome of the story. But most of the time it was like holding a pen to paper and not knowing what words would appear.

  “It used to belong to you,” another voice said. Savannah. A faint smile softened my lips. I was pretty sure this scene unfolding in my mind would take place in two days’ time, when we would go to Damon and Lara’s to try to reason with the visitors overstaying their welcome.

  Thump! Don’t know what that was. Audrey getting angry? And then the other woman and the man mumbled, but I couldn’t hear them clearly. Silence. Hmm, was that it? Was that the only hint I’d get?

  Savannah and Sasha were still holding my hands. They must still be sensing things. I kept my eyes closed and waited.

  Flick! The swift strike of a match. I bet Sasha would smell the flame. And I bet Savannah was feeling anxious about seeing fire again after what had unfolded not too long ago in our lives. Even my heart rate had started to rise a bit. But that was all, just one lit match. I couldn’t hear flickering or the crackling of flames or the whoosh of anything catching alight. Only footsteps, creaking floorboards. Maybe we were just lighting a candle? But what’s so significant about that?

  The muffled voices, interspersed with grumblings from Audrey, continued, and then faded away like I was turning down a volume control.

  Sobs. Sharp breaths. Crying.

  Oh, great. Who is it? Sounded familiar, but it was hard to tell. Hang on…no, it couldn’t be, could it?

  Savannah let go of my hands and I opened my eyes.

  “Lara may have avoided getting physically hurt but it looks like something’s going to hurt her in another way,” said Savannah.

  Damn, I was right. Lara was the one crying.

  “It was the fingernails again,” she continued. “I saw her hands accepting a tissue from someone, and she brought it to her eyes. When I see things, it’s like I’m the person the vision is about, looking through their eyes. It’s weird.”

  “I felt sad,” said Talia. “I’m not only feeling things with my hands these days.” She took a slow breath as if to center herself. “Although I did feel the tissue. I also felt something cool and round in my hands, like a bowl of some kind? And a tickle, like a feather.”

  “I saw the feather!” Savannah exclaimed. “And someone had lit a match. There was a bit of smoke, but not much.”

  “I heard that,” I said, then turned to Sasha. “And let me guess, you smelled the flame?”

  She nodded, but appeared lost in thought, which was rare for Sasha.

  “Well, not much to tell here,” Tamara said, “except that somebody makes absolutely delicious cake or cupcakes and I wish I could go back into the vision and have more!” She slumped on the bed. “Hmm, wonder if it’s too late to make some?” She eyed the bedroom door and was probably weighing up ingredients, preparation time, and cooking times in her head.

  “I didn’t see any cake.” Savannah crinkled her forehead. “But maybe the match was lighting a birthday cake? Anyone’s birthday coming up that we know of?”

  We glanced around, shaking our heads.

  “When did you taste the cake, Tamara?” I asked.

  “It wasn’t until near the end of the vision; up until then I sensed nothing.”

  Maybe it had something to do with Lara crying. Oh well, time would tell. But she sounded so sad and worn out. And I hoped I didn’t have to hear it for real. Though Damon had said she would sometimes get very upset when her routine was changed or she lost her sense of control.

  “You’re quiet, Sasha,” said Savannah.

  She rubbed her temple. “I’m just trying to think…”

  “Giving you a headache?”

  She slid a glare at Savvy. “Ha, ha.”

  “What else did you smell?” I asked.

  “Something different—I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel like I’ve smelled it long ago. Like in childhood. Like when,” she lowered her gaze, “when Dad was still around.”

  Every mention of his name was like a tap on the shoulder, a knock on the door, but when you turned around or opened the door there was nobody there.

  “It was sort of pungent—is that the right word?” She looked at me and I shrugged. “And rich, and a little bit like the potpourri, but still different. Maybe sweet, too?” She relaxed her face and shook her head. “Argh, can’t get it. Don’t know. But it made me think of being a kid.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve written it down. Maybe it’ll come to you later,” said Talia.

  “You all set for Saturday, Savvy?” I asked, and she nodded. “I think you’ll be better help to the Jamesons than me alone.” I di
dn’t tell her I had heard her voice in my vision; I wanted to see if it came true by itself. See, there were some secrets I could keep. Even if they were only small and didn’t really matter.

  A burst of laughter came from somewhere in the house. Mom. It was good to hear her happy. She was chatting, and I assumed she must be on the phone.

  “Oh my God, I remember!” Sasha clicked her fingers. “I was about, I dunno, five or six? And I could smell something coming from that room Mom used to do her massage and counseling work from when she worked at home.”

  And, we later discovered, her psychic work.

  “I followed my nose, even then, ha! Anyway, I saw her holding something, and smoke was coming out of it, and—”

  “Oh God, was Mom on drugs?” I blurted, as an image formed in my mind.

  “Serena! Let me finish.” Sasha held up her hand. “She was not smoking anything, don’t you worry; she was holding a bowl, only it looked like a big shell. Smoke was coming out of it, as I said, and I tried to reach up to look at it but she held it higher. She told me Mommy was doing some cleaning and that I should go back to my room and play.”

  “Cleaning?” I asked.

  Sasha’s eyes lit up. “Oh, and she had a feather! She was wafting the smoke around with a feather!”

  “So did we sense something in the past, then?” asked Savannah. “If I saw the feather, and the match, and the smoke…”

  “No,” I replied. “The sounds were definitely in the Jamesons’ sitting room, and I heard the ghost’s voice again. The match was lit around the same time.”

  “Then it has something to do with your memory of Mom, Sasha,” said Talia. She headed for the door, but turned to us before opening it. “I think this is one vision we need to talk to her about.”

  • • •

  “Oh, sweetie, I remember that too!” Mom grasped Sasha’s hands. “You were always such an inquisitive girl, wanting to know what Mommy was doing all the time, wanting to dress up in my clothes and shoes and even my bras, and—”

  “Yeah, yeah, enough of the embarrassing childhood memories, Mom!” Sasha flicked her hand but accepted a squishy hug from Mom.

  “Okay, okay. Well, what I was doing that day is called smudging.”

  “Smudging?” I asked. “But Sasha said you had been cleaning.”

  Mom smiled and stroked the aquamarine pendant hanging around my neck. “I was. Smudging is a form of cleaning. Spiritual cleaning.” She moved to the couch and sat, encouraging us to do the same. “With the work I was doing back then, sometimes negative energy would accumulate from people’s grief or from spirits who had unfinished business. Smudging is a ritual to clear those negative energies, using plants and herbs with certain properties. I was using white sage with a touch of mugwort, so that’s what you would have smelled. The dried ingredients are lit, then blown out, then allowed to smolder to take effect.”

  “Did it work?” I asked.

  “Yes. There was always a different ambience in the room after smudging. It felt clearer. And I had fewer unwelcome intrusions.”

  Unwelcome intrusions…“Mom, does smudging get rid of ghosts?” I asked.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “No, just wondering. If it clears negative energies, can it clear negative ghosts, like, you know, in a haunted house or something?”

  She chuckled. “Ghosts will do what they damn well please!”

  I must have flashed a worried expression because she took hold of my hand and added, “But if the ghosts are bringing negative energy to a room, or a house, then smudging can help clear those energies. The ghosts may still stick around, but be less likely to intrude or be noticed.”

  Hope rose inside me like a balloon. Maybe this could be a way to compromise with Audrey and her siblings. They could still hang around, but stop causing havoc and let the Jamesons live there in peace. Win-win situation. Sort of.

  Mom glanced at Savannah. “Have you, ah…” Her face went serious.

  “Seen Dad since the last time? No.”

  “Oh.” Then she looked at me. “You sure you don’t want to tell me anything else?”

  About the ghosts, or about Dad and his letter? Maybe Mom still had a good intuitive sense when things were on our minds. Maybe it had nothing to do with psychic ability, simply a mother’s instinct.

  “Nope,” said Talia. “We were just curious about the vision. Thanks, that was interesting!” She stood. “Getting late, better head to bed.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Good night, my darlings.” She kissed each of us and headed for her own room, then turned back. “Oh, and girls?” She leaned against the wall and tilted her head forward as though about to tell a secret. “Would you like me to bring home some white sage and mugwort and smudging supplies tomorrow after work?”

  I couldn’t help but grin. She knew we were up to something, but still allowed us to have a sense of independence. “Yes please,” I said softly.

  Mom gave a thumbs-up sign and was about to go into her room when Savannah flashed a curious smile. “Hey, Mom,” she asked. “Who was making you laugh on the phone before?”

  Mom’s face became slightly rosy. “Oh, just Simon,” she said, then added, “I mean, Mr. Jenkins.”

  I wondered what he could have said to make her laugh. He didn’t appear to be the funniest guy on the planet, but who knew what adults talked about when us teenagers weren’t around.

  I yawned and wandered to the bedroom, and a smile grew on my face at the memory of a certain someone with alien antennae. I knew who the funniest guy on the planet was, and he was just a text message away.

  A text message! I had forgotten to tell him about Mandy and how she used to live in his house, and why she was bullying Lara, and the identity of the ghosts! I checked my watch. It was a bit late, and this could turn out to be a long conversation to type out. Despite our awesome text-messaging skills, I decided this should be a face-to-face conversation. But I did send a text: Sorry it’s late, busy night! I found out some stuff you need to know, but do you mind if we talk about it at school tomorrow? Lunchtime?

  My phone pinged a moment later: That would be good, as I’m currently cleaning my teeth and have to type one-handed.

  I giggled. You did very well. All your grammar is intact.

  Damon: As are my teeth.

  Me: Good to know.

  I waited and watched the screen, and, thinking he had probably put his phone down to focus on continuing his dental hygiene, I put mine on the bedside table and sat on the bed.

  Ping!

  Damon: Let’s meet by the basketball court at lunch.

  Me: To play basketball?

  Damon: I’m game if you are, haha! No. We can sit on the bench at the far end where it’s private.

  Why did the word private send a rush of energy to my heart? We were only going to discuss the Mandy and ghost issues. But something about that word, and what else it could mean in a different context, sent my mind wandering in directions I had no maps for. No tour guide, no GPS navigation, no compass. I didn’t know where I was going when it came to Damon.

  Maybe, somehow, I was going in all directions at once.

  Chapter 20

  “Take your pick.” Riley spread a selection of DVDs on the coffee table in the Jamesons’ upstairs living room, while in the downstairs living room a vacuum cleaner roared as Mr. Jameson kept busy with housework. Riley had turned up with me and Savannah as part of our cover for doing another round of paranormal investigation. And hopefully the last one, if this smudging thing worked. If not, maybe we’d need to call in an exorcist. Hopefully houses didn’t spew green vomit like possessed humans.

  Fortunately, Riley’s DVD selection he’d brought from the now-closed Video Village didn’t include The Exorcist. But to be honest, I didn’t really care which movie we put on; all I could think about was getting in that sitting room and taking action. Damon seemed impatient too; he tapped his f
oot against the floor and drummed his fingers on the coffee table. Our private discussion at the basketball court yesterday had fueled his desire to figure out how to deal with these ghosts, Mandy’s ancestors, once and for all.

  Lara chose a DVD (of course) and put it in the DVD player. “It’s been seven months and two weeks since I’ve watched a movie at the actual cinema,” she said. “I like DVDs, but the surround sound and large screen really adds value to the experience. I must go again soon.”

  “When did we last go?” Riley asked Savannah.

  She shrugged. “Sometime after the, um…”

  “Oh yeah, the incident. That’s right. We’ll have to go again too.”

  The almost-fire at the school was now referred to by him as the incident, so as to not upset Savannah, or any of us.

  I watched Lara as she navigated through the DVD menu via the remote, and I thought about how it was like her life in a way. She had to navigate through scenes in her life, bloopers, and even learn how things worked behind the scenes. We all did, but for Lara it was wrought with more challenges, and she knew her ending. We didn’t know ours. “I’ll go with you,” I said. “To the movies.”

  She looked my way, her multicolored fingernails drawing a temporary rainbow around her ear as she swiped a strand of hair behind it. Her eyes brightened. “When?”

  I mentally retrieved my timetable. “How about Tuesday after school?”

  She got out her phone and tapped at the screen. “I’ll meet you at the school gate.”

  “Okay. I’ll check if my mom can pick us up after she finishes work, since it might be dark by the time we get out,” I suggested.

  “Good idea. Around forty percent more crimes take place when it’s dark.”

  Wonderful. I nodded and smiled.

  “So, ah…” Savannah turned to me, then to Damon. “Should Serena and I go in there first, on our own, and see what happens before we try the smudging?”

  “If that’s okay?” He glanced at both of us. “Maybe they’ll be more communicative without residents of the house present.”