A Grave Conjuring

by Michelle Dorey

  Lawrence had only appeared long enough to serve lunch before muttering something about catching up with the laundry. Did he know about the inheritance? That she’d made me her heir? I still wasn’t sure about him but for the time being, there were more important things to think about than her elderly guy Friday.

  “So tell me more about these enemies of yours. I mean, they must be pretty scary if you sent Mom away for her protection.” I looked down into the bowl of leafy green lettuce and cucumber, toying with it as I spoke. I still wasn’t sure I was going to agree to any of this... not until I knew what I was up against.

  GM dabbed the corners of her mouth and set the napkin back on her lap. “I can’t tell you their names. In all honesty, I don’t know that. If I did, well, it would be so much simpler. But, I know when they are close.” Her face had dropped and there was an iron glint in her eyes.

  “But why? Why would anyone, here or in the next stage of existence want to stop you? Is it the money? Some greedy people who want to do what you did... use the next plane for profit on the stock market? Or even power?” My lips twitched as I pictured a Darth Vader type or even Dr. Evil in the Austin Powers movie.

  Her chin rose and she smiled. “If it were only so. That, I could easily deal with. No. I’m afraid it’s anarchy that they desire. The end of everything as we know it. They’ve come close a few times and I barely escaped with my sanity, let alone my life. “

  The doorbell rang.

  I jerked in my chair and stared at her. Her eyes mirrored mine. We were both thinking the same thing. Was it them?

  Her hand went to her throat and she sighed. “Can you get that, Keira? Lawrence is upstairs and he might not have heard it.”

  “Are you expecting anyone?” I forced my heart back down from where it had leapt into my throat. All this talk about enemies and the supernatural was getting to me.

  She shook her head no.

  “Okaay. Be right back.” As I was leaving the room the bell rang again. “Hold on!” I pulled the door open and there stood a woman, around my own age in a white uniform shirt and navy shorts. In her hand was an envelope and an electronic clipboard. Her head pulled back and her gray eyes were almost as round as mine, staring back at me.

  “Hi. I’ve got a registered letter for Mrs. York. Is she around?” Her brown hair was tied up in a pony tail but a few stray wisps framed the sides of her face. A smattering of freckles crossed the ridge of a small nose above a tentative grin.

  I reached out to take the letter from her. “That’s my grandmother. I can sign for her.” It was weird. I was already feeling like the lady of the manor.

  She handed it to me and then lifted the gadget, clicking the plastic pen on the smooth surface. “Sign here.” Her eyes were filled with question marks looking at me. “I’m Gwen Jones. I’ve been delivering mail here for years and I’ve never seen you before. Is Lawrence okay?”

  I chuckled seeing her confusion as I scratched my signature on her board. “He’s fine. He’s just busy right now. I’m Keira Swanson. This is my first visit from New York.”

  Her eyebrows rose and she nodded. “Oh! Well, that’s nice.” She dodged to the side and peeked into the foyer. “I haven’t seen your grandmother or Lawrence in a while. The odd time I see her outside, clipping leaves from her plants. She’s nice. I like your grandmother.”

  I laughed at her sneaking a peek around me. What did she think? That this was some home invasion and they were tied up in some room behind me? “Yeah. She’s pretty cool.” I wasn’t going to add anything about Lawrence. “Thanks.” I started to close the door, where she was still trying to examine behind me.

  “Yeah. Yeah, right. Have a good day!” I closed the door and as I walked back through the foyer, Lawrence’s voice called out.

  “Who was that, Keira?” He stood at the railing on the second floor, staring down at me.

  I waved the letter high in my hand. “Just the mail lady. She gave me a registered letter for GM.” I continued on my way but could hear him muttering as he stepped back.

  “GM indeed,” he sniffed.

  Whatever. When I entered the sunroom, GM was gazing down at her plate, totally in her own world. “It was just the mail lady... Gwen. She asked about you.” I tossed the letter next to her plate.

  Ignoring it, she smiled. “She’s a nice girl.” She folded her hands on her lap and cleared her throat. “Keira? In my bedroom is a small embroidered pillow on my love seat. Would you mind getting it for me?”

  I blinked and then popped to my feet once more. “Sure thing.”

  I made my way over to her bedroom and went in. A large bed with a red satin spread sat against the far wall, while a set of French doors next to it showed the side of the property and her rose garden. When I stepped inside, the wall opposite her bed showed a floor-to-ceiling wall of shelves filled with books. The love seat sofa sat next to it and sure enough, there was a blue pillow embroidered with white flowers, tucked into the arm. Unlike the other rooms, my feet sank into wall-to-wall beige carpeting as I strode over to get the pillow. The air in the room was warm with an overlay of the scent of roses.

  When I picked up the pillow, I stopped short. A wave of dizziness washed through my head and I grasped the arm of the sofa. The image of an old woman, her white hair swept back from a tanned and wrinkled face flashed in my mind. Her eyes were small and dark like a bird’s behind thick glasses which perched on her fleshy nose. Sadness flooded through me and I hugged the pillow into my leaden stomach.

  The pillow was the last Mother’s Day gift from her son. He’d given it to her and then boarded the train with the other troops. It was the last time she saw him. A tear rolled down my cheek and I brushed it away with the back of my hand. The old woman had held that pillow and spilled many tears into the old tattered fabric.

  I took a deep breath and counted to ten. What was happening to me? The woman had felt so real in my head, her sorrow consuming me. This had never happened with any other object I’d touched. My shoulders squared and I walked back out of the room. GM had known about the pillow. It was another one of her ‘tests’. But instead of fear, this time the emotion was sorrow.

  As I walked under the set of stairs, still clutching the pillow—the name Helen and then Jeremy—popped into my head. The mother and her son. My forehead was furrowed trying to puzzle this out. Why now? Why had this never happened before if I had this so-called gift?

  When I stepped into the sunroom, GM’s head rose and her eyes focused on mine. She also looked sad... but more than that, she looked tired and old. The bit of color that had been in her cheeks when we were outside earlier, and at lunch, had faded and there was a gray pallor to her skin.

  I paused, staring into her eyes. “Helen and Jeremy. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

  She nodded and then leaned forward. “Can you put the pillow behind me?”

  When I tucked the pillow in, more of her hair had escaped the French roll like she’d just got out of bed or something. “You knew I’d feel Helen’s sadness didn’t you?” It was still there actually, sitting like a lump, low in my gut.

  “I’d hoped.” She sat back, a small smile turning her lips. “You not only have clairvoyance but you have psychometric ability. Just touching the pillow, you were able to know the story behind it.”

  I took a seat and hunched forward looking at her. “But why now, GM? I’ve never done this before.” In all the time in New York, never once had I seen a spirit or touched objects and got mental movies from them. This was beyond weird. I felt wobbly, like I’d drunk a bottle of wine but my mind was still clear.

  “I bought this place because of the psychic energy in this house... on the grounds. If any of your gifts were to emerge, I knew it would happen here.” Her hand closed over mine and she squeezed it. “Even the pillow... I picked it up in an antique store, but with you in mind.” Her eyes closed for a minute and it looked like she was dozing off.

  “GM? Are you all right?” My eyes opened wider
as a surge of concern filled me. She was old... and she looked worn-out right then.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she grasped her cane, banging it on the floor a few times. “Keira. I’m afraid I’ll need to lie down now. All of this has tired me.” She smiled. “I’m pleased with you. We’ll talk again at dinner.”

  Lawrence appeared and his face was flushed from the speed he’d taken to get there so quick. His eyes narrowed, peering at me like I’d done something horrid to GM. He rushed forward and his hand cupped her shoulder. “Are you okay, Pamela?”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Of course, dear. Just tired is all. I’ll go for my nap early today.” She rose to her feet and I watched the two of them, hunched and plodding like exhausted pack animals, leave the room.

  The blue upholstered pillow sat in the chair like an accusation.

  My shoulders drooped lower. That poor woman, Helen, had cherished the pillow, the last gift from her son. Since I’d been there I’d only sent one text to my mother—something which was as easy as breathing in this day and age. Just as Jeremy had been Helen’s only child, I was Mom’s only child.

  With a sigh of guilt, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. Of course, now that I wasn’t planning on leaving I had a full signal. My fingers flew over the keypad. It was just a quick note to let her know I hadn’t dropped off the face of the earth and that well... despite sending me to GM’s house, I still loved her. I glanced over at the cushion and rose to my feet. There! I sent a text to my mother, okay?

  Having dealt with the Helen and Jeremy guilt pillow, I stretched and sighed again. This house and everything GM had told me today was closing in on me. Ghosts in my bedroom, guilt pillows, and saving reality all in one day. This place was starting to press in on me. I needed a dose of normal like a junkie needed a fix. Plus, I hadn’t been out of the house in two days!

  I raced upstairs, slowing down when I got to the few steps below my room. Taking a deep breath, I walked up and scanned the sitting area from one side to the other. There were no ghosts and things were exactly as I had left them. I changed out of the shorts and threw a pair of jeans on.

  “You’ll take care of my shorts, won’t you, Molly?” So weird. Having a ghostly maid.

  I picked up my purse and slung the strap over my shoulder. There was still twenty dollars in it—enough to buy me a coffee when I got to the city. Surely, there would be a Starbucks... and some people close to my age hanging around there. I’d leave a note for Lawrence that I borrowed the car. If I didn’t, he’d probably be on the phone so fast it’d make your head spin and there’d be an all-points police warrant or something out on me.

  Just a short sanity break, a chance to catch my breath.

  Lord knows, I’d earned it.

  THIRTEEN

  WITH THE WINDOW ROLLED DOWN AND THE RADIO BLASTING, I maneuvered the land yacht down the highway, breaking the speed limit if not the sound barrier. The wind lifted my hair and my fingers kept a steady beat on the leather clad steering wheel. Freedom!

  I entered the city limits, cruising past an army base. On the left was a sign—”Royal Military College.” Hmm... their version of West Point? Hot guys in uniforms? Things were looking up already.

  I crossed a bridge and was in the heart of downtown Kingston. Compared to New York it was pretty small; you could fit the downtown core with its few high rises into Central Park and not even notice it was there. Still, it was a city; I could feel myself relaxing into the bustle. I’m a city girl through and through. A country setting’s nice and all, but I feel more at home with sidewalks and traffic lights.

  When I cruised down the main street, I spotted the universal green sign with the mermaid wearing a crown and smiled. It even says Starbucks in Canada! Yes! I could almost taste the cinnamon in the latte as I searched the street for a parking spot.

  I found a space on the block just past the coffee shop and parked the car. Just as I pulled the door open, someone called my name and I spun around.

  “Keira?”

  Coming up the walkway was a brunette in a white shirt and navy shorts waving hi. The mail lady? What was her name? Gwen, that was it.

  “Hi Gwen.” The last thing I expected when I walked down the street in this city was to meet someone I knew. Talk about a small city…

  I was still holding the door open and she grinned at me. “This is my after-work ritual. Nothing says you’re finished for the day better than a butterscotch latte.”

  “No way! Cinnamon’s the best, even if I didn’t spend the day working.” I held the door open for her and followed inside.

  The smell of fresh roasted coffee filled the air as I looked around, checking the place out. It was doing a steady business with the under-thirty set. Gwen turned and her voice was low. “There’re still lots of students in the city even though it’s summer break.” Her dark eyes flitted across the room. “I see an empty table. Want to join me?”

  I smiled. “Sure.” We were close in age and it would be a welcome change from the octogenarian set. I watched her turn to give our orders to the guy behind the counter. She spun quickly and grinned. “It was cinnamon latte right?”

  When I nodded she continued. “Coffee’s on me. Consider it a welcome-to-the-city gesture.”

  “Thanks.” In just a minute the server set the two cups of frothy drinks on the counter. We made our way to the empty table near the large window overlooking the street.

  She tugged the chair out and set her latte on the small wooden table. “So how long are you in town, Keira?”

  I took a seat and emptied a bit of sugar into the hot cup. “I don’t know.” I looked down into my coffee, stirring it. It was a good question. Could be, I’d never leave or I might be gone tomorrow. But I couldn’t tell her that. “I came here to look after my grandmother, but to be honest, she seems pretty healthy. I mean, Mom made it sound like she was on death’s door.”

  Gwen took a sip of her drink and her eyebrows rose high. “You too, huh? I take care of my dad. He’s had MS for years but now it’s progressed to the point that he can’t work anymore.”

  The smile dropped from my lips. “I’m sorry to hear that. That must be rough.” I couldn’t imagine if my parents weren’t healthy. Dealing with GM was one thing; she was old, but Gwen’s dad was probably a lot younger.

  She looked down, slowly stirring the foam into the dark mixture. “He’s not completely helpless but it’s hard for him walking. My brother spells me off sometimes, so that helps.” She brightened and managed a smile. “So what’s it like living in your grandmother’s house? I’ve always wondered what it’d be like inside. The grounds are gorgeous, I can only imagine how... how elegant it would be on the inside.”

  I nodded. “It’s straight out of Downton Abbey—high plaster ceilings, wooden paneling all over the place, hardwood floors…” I leaned in. “And the bathrooms have those huge claw-foot tubs you can almost swim in!”

  “Yep. I was right; it sounds elegant.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, and it has a beautiful view of the river from her sunroom. That’s her favorite room in the house. You can see the river flowing to Lake Ontario from it. We have breakfast and lunch there.”

  She chuckled. “That doesn’t surprise me. Judging by the gardens, she’s got a real green thumb. I’m sure Lawrence does a lot to help... how else could she manage that huge house?” Her eyes met mine over the rim.

  “Yeah. He’s pretty devoted to her.” I grimaced and looked down into my own latte. “Me, not so much.”

  “What do you mean? You don’t get along with your grandmother? She’s—”

  “No, not her; she’s fine. A little eccentric, but at her age she’s earned it, I guess. Let’s just say Lawrence isn’t my biggest fan.” I wasn’t going to get into my suspicions over him wanting GM’s inheritance.

  Her mouth pulled to the side in a small smirk. “Well, old people get set in their ways, I guess; he’s been with her for years and years and you just showed up.” She looked out the wi
ndow and waved to a middle-aged man, also in the postal garb. He was getting into his car and waved back.

  When she turned back and smiled, I spoke, “So, do you like delivering mail?”

  “It’s okay. It wasn’t the career I studied for but it’s probably worked out better than being a physicist.”

  “A physicist?”

  “Yeah,” she smiled as she started toying with her napkin. “Theoretical physics to be precise.”

  “I didn’t even take physics in high school. All that math and stuff…”

  Gwen waved her hand, dismissively. “Yeah, I got game when it comes to math; but I really sucked at writing papers.” She looked away. “It was pretty cool though. We were doing some backup work here at Queen’s University for the Higgs boson project in Europe when I left.”

  “The what?”

  She was still staring out the window. “They called it the search for ‘The God Particle.’” She turned back to me, her eyes bright. “And they found it!” She shook her head. “When I left, I was just about to wrap up my master’s and I was going back and forth whether to work in that area or string theory for my doctorate.” She shrugged. “But life made my decision for me.”

  “What happened?”

  “My dad got sick. Well… sicker. It got so bad he had to stop working. His disability pension isn’t enough to live on, so I got the job with the post office. I had been part time when I was in school, so it was easier for me to grab a full-time slot when it opened up.” She shrugged again. “So here I am.”

  My academic efforts, as scattered as they were, seemed small time. The woman delivering our mail was a Brainiac. I felt for her. She had something she had worked on for years and had to give it up, and I couldn’t even finish a course in photography. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

  She shrugged again. “It’s really not that big a deal. The pay and benefits are okay, and I’m done by three so I can be home to look after Dad.” She pointed her chin at me. “How about you? What do you do when you’re not visiting your grandmother?” There was an easy way about Gwen. She’d asked like she was really interested rather than being in some kind of pissing contest.