“Molly? Do you think Miss Livingston was right? That the ghost wants to hurt my dad?”
Standing took too much energy, so I lowered myself into a chair to wait for the coffee to brew.
“It’s not so much that she’s right, as that we can’t afford to discount her beliefs. After all, remember the ladder incident.”
“But a ghost didn’t do that.”
“No, a person did.”
“They did?”
Oh, hell. I’d forgotten that Liza hadn’t seen the clean break. She still thought Nathaniel’s fall a simple accident. How angry would he be if I told her the truth? In my estimation, she was strong enough to handle the information, but I wasn’t her mother.
“Molly? What do you mean by a person did it? Was it Aimee? Did she sabotage it? She tried to hurt him before, you know.”
“I honestly don’t know, Liza. And I shouldn’t have said anything until I did know. It looked as if the top step had been tampered with. We couldn’t really check because by the time we got home from the hospital it was all cleaned up. But if it was Aimee, she’s gone now so your dad’s safe.”
Her mouth trembled and tears clung to her lashes. “Is it because of me?”
“What do you mean? Of course not!”
“Why would the ghost like me but not Dad?”
“Honey, I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out.” I laid a hand over hers on the table.
“But she only tells me what she wants to—I can’t ask her questions and get answers. That’s why I wanted to use the Ouija board, but the rules say two or more people, and you have to ask your questions aloud.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t try to convince your cousin to do it.”
She shrugged and looked away.
“Did you try to get Hailey involved?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t ask what I really wanted in front of her. And she would have pushed the indicator around—I’d never trust her not to.”
“So, if you wanted to talk to the ghost so much, why did you stop speaking?”
“There wasn’t anything left to say.”
I touched her hand, felt the chill of her skin. Was the spirit stealing her life even as we sat here in the warm kitchen?
“That’s not all there was.”
She shook her head. “I wanted to talk about mom, but it made my dad sad. And then we moved up here and he really, really didn’t want to hear about the ghost. He thought he’d done the right thing, you know? Taking me away from mom’s studio. So I stopped mentioning the ghost, but it got harder to find anything to talk about. It was like the less I said about her, the bigger she got, until she filled me up and I couldn’t get words past her space.”
“That’s what happens with secrets,” I said. “You imagine that it’s a tiny thing you have to avoid, but the longer the secret goes on, the more it seems that every road leads to it, and you can’t go down any of them for fear of revealing it.”
She nodded. “But then you came. And you bought the book. And I thought maybe I could tell you about her. But she was still too big. Until the other night, and then the words kind of popped out, like they were greased and slipped past her.”
“And it’s been easier to talk since then?”
“My throat hurts now, but yeah. You and dad know about her. So she got smaller.”
I only wished that were true. I suspected she had backed off to regroup now that Liza had taken a bit of initiative and the rules had changed. We’d been gone most of the day, and twilight shadows reached into the kitchen. I shuddered and got up to flick on the lights. I waited while the coffee finished brewing, hoping inspiration would strike, but when I turned back to Liza, I still had no ready answer. I sipped from my mug, considering.
“Even if we could talk to her,” I said at last, “how would we know whether she was telling the truth? People don’t always, and I don’t imagine ghosts are any different.”
Chapter 18
After lunch on Monday, we returned to the schoolroom and to American History, which reminded me that I hadn’t found the book Nathaniel’s father had written about the house. I set the girls to reading a chapter from the text and slipped down the corridor to the billiards room to search for it.
Weak sunlight filtered past the thick drapes, providing only dim illumination, so I flicked on the overhead light. The green lampshades on the chandelier above the pool table tinted the light so the room appeared submerged, drowned in the pond as I had so nearly found myself. A chill draft slipped by and my vision slipped. Superimposed over the billiards room I saw the nursery and I felt myself struggling toward Liza through air as thick as frozen molasses. I shook off the feelings and thrust the curtains open, dispelling the watery illusion.
Jim Prescott had written his book here. Even if he had left no copies of the finished product—this was, after all, merely a summer home at the time—maybe I could unearth the research he’d done on the house and its builders.
The unquiet spirit was linked to the property, I was sure of it. She had died here, and from what Adriana Livingston had told us, not well. The death would have left a mark, a scar on the history of the land and with a little luck, Jim Prescott would have discovered it.
The bookshelves held an array of academic works on history, mythology, anthropology, geography and geology. A man of wide ranging interests, Jim Prescott. Had he ever seen anything at Rook’s Rest that he could not explain? Nathaniel had called his parents pragmatists, even Puritans, but way at the top of the bookshelf, a number of items disputed the claim. Old pamphlets, books, texts Prescott had printed out or photocopied, then bound with masking tape along the spine on which he had written the titles.
Raymond, or life and death: with examples of the evidence for survival of memory and affection after death. My fingers itched to pull that one down, but it would require climbing onto the bottom cabinets and even then I might not reach the shelf. A moment later, I realized I needed to get up there, because there were more.
Spiritualism. I hadn’t learned much about it in school other than that it had flourished in New England among the devout. So perhaps Jim Prescott needed the material for his book, though the sheer number of texts implied a deeper interest than necessary for what would likely be no more than a chapter or two in a textbook.
After Death, or Letters from Julia: A Personal Narrative.
The Other World, or, Glimpses of the Supernatural: Being Facts, Records and Traditions Relating to Dreams, Omens, Miraculous Occurrences, Apparitions, Wraiths, Warnings, Second-sight, Witchcraft, Necromancy, etc.
Spirit-Possession: A Treatise Upon Modern Spiritualism, Comprising the Experiences and Theories of a “Retired” Spirit-Medium.
Communication with the Next World: The Right and Wrong Methods.
For a pragmatic man, Jim Prescott had a wealth of information on communicating with the dead. Had he ever tried it himself? Could a historian resist? I imagined him sitting at the heavy desk late at night, a hand on the planchette of his sons’ Ouija board, laughing at his own actions but unable to resist the lure.
I hoisted myself up onto the cabinet top, and found myself facing an entirely different set of texts. Several of these were printed and bound, while a fair number of others appeared to be the standard academic fare. But there were also a number with lurid covers that I could not imagine having been accepted as study material when I was in school. All related to Native American history, religion, culture, language. The classic Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee, which I had read in college. Facing East from Indian Country: A Native History of Early America, which looked well-thumbed. And one that caught my eye because it brought back so strongly the story Nathaniel had told while we sat by the fire. Out of the Depths: The Experiences of Mi’Kmaw Children at the Indian Residential School at Shubenacadie, Nova Scotia. Had the tale of Alawa the Native American “princess” come from here? But no, that had been set in Maine, not Canada.
“What are you doing up there?”
I had not heard Jennifer enter, and her voice startled me into losing my footing on the narrow countertop. I grabbed for the bookshelf to steady myself and almost brought a stack of piled books down on top of me. I managed to remain upright and inched around so I could climb down with a tiny bit of dignity.
“I was looking for Jim Prescott’s history book.”
“For God’s sake. You’re supposed to be teaching the girls.”
“They’re working on a lesson. They know where I am if they have questions.”
“This is completely inappropriate.”
“I’m sorry.” I swallowed my frustration at being unable to reach for those seductive texts on the top shelf. “I can go back to them.”
“What’s with that book, anyway? And don’t give me that nonsense about how it could be useful for Hailey. You don’t care about her boarding school experience any more than Aimee did. You’re hiding something from me.”
I cast about frantically trying to remember what I’d said to her on Friday about the book. The intervening events overshadowed the encounter, however. It might as well have been a year since we’d spoken.
“Don’t bother.” Jennifer spun around. “I can tell you’re just thinking up a lie.”
After she left I remained where I was for a long moment trying to decide whether I should continue my search or go back to the girls. In fact, I was still standing there when I heard a short, sharp scream and a loud, prolonged clatter.
I rushed from the billiards room and almost collided with the girls coming from the classroom.
“Mom!” Hailey shrieked and dashed down the steps.
I leaned over the railing and saw Jennifer picking herself up from the floor at the base of the staircase. She glanced up and the virulent hatred in her eyes forced me back a step.
“Mom, are you okay?” Hailey tugged on her hand and she looked away from me.
“I’ll be fine.” Again, she turned her eyes upward. “Pack your things. This time you’ve gone too far.”
“What are you talking about?”
Nathaniel came out of the ballroom office. “What’s going on?”
“Your new tutor pushed me down the stairs.”
“I did not!”
“I felt your hand on my back. And don’t try to lay this off on the girls. I could see the classroom door and neither of them came out. You were the one behind me.”
“You’re mistaken. I was still in the pool room.” But I knew what had happened. Once again I felt the memory of the pressure of a hand on my back out by the pond.
“Right. Looking for Jim Prescott’s history textbook. Don’t start with me. I don’t know what you hoped to get out of this, but it’s over. Now. Tell her, Thane.”
He sighed. “Why don’t you both come into the library? Liza, Hailey, you go back to work.”
“No.” Liza stomped down the stairs. She and Hailey took up identical postures, arms crossed, expressions set.
Nathaniel rubbed his forehead. “Okay, then. We’ll all do this. Molly?”
My mouth went dry and I descended slowly. I could not read Nathaniel’s face at all.
“Are you injured?” He asked Jennifer as we entered the library.
“No, but that’s not the issue. The issue is her intent. She has to go, Thane, even you must see that now.”
Nathaniel did not answer. We all sat, Jennifer and Hailey on the sofa, Liza and Nathaniel and I all in separate chairs. A moment later, he was up, pouring himself a drink. He raised the glass in our direction, but both Jennifer and I shook our heads.
He returned to his seat and took a long sip.
“It’s my word against hers,” Jennifer burst out. “You’ve known me forever. I am not a liar.”
“I wish it were that simple. I believe that you felt someone behind you, felt what you thought was a hand on your back.”
“What I thought—what are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying that I’ve come to believe that we’re not alone in this house.”
That stunned her into silence. Stunned all of us. I hadn’t expected him to admit it so baldly. Up until that moment, I hadn’t been at all sure he was on board with the whole ghost idea.
“If you want me to leave,” Jennifer said stiffly, “you can just say so. There’s no need to pretend a sudden belief in ghosts. I’ve known you all your life, Thane—that won’t wash. Do we still have phone service? I’ll call Matthew right now and have him come pick us up.”
“That might be best.”
Her eyes widened and her skin lost its delicate rose color. She’d bluffed and he’d forced her hand. Her eyes flicked quickly around the room as she tried to regroup.
“Thane, please, this isn’t necessary.”
He shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Jenn. I can’t agree.”
With a huff, she stalked out into the hall and I could hear her on the phone, though I could not make out the words. The rest of us sat in awkward silence.
“Matthew will be here tonight. Late. It’s a long drive.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Jenn. If she hadn’t tried to hurt you...”
“She. So you admit it.”
“The ghost is a she,” said Liza.
“Oh for— There is no ghost. Admit that much.”
“I can’t,” said Nathaniel. “You have no idea how much I wish I could. But I was told... A psychic told me that she would get stronger. She’s attached herself to Liza, and she’s feeding off the emotions of the people around her. I didn’t realize she meant that the spirit would attain the ability to do physical harm. I thought, if she existed at all, that she’d continue working though humans. Like when she convinced Aimee to attack me.”
“A psychic told you this?” Jennifer focused on me. “One of your relatives helping you out? A little Gypsy fun?”
I kept my mouth shut, wishing I could disappear.
“This has nothing I to do with Molly. I went to see a medium in Portland while you were at the spa.”
Jennifer sank back down onto the couch. “That’s why you were late picking us up?”
“Yes.”
“And what else did this woman tell you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters! If there’s really a dangerous spirit in this house, we should all leave. Why didn’t she recommend that?”
“Because it’s no longer attached to the house. It’s bound to Liza. Wherever Liza goes, it goes.”
“Why would a spirit attached to Liza push me down the stairs? I’m here to help Liza.” Jennifer’s fingers twisted in agitation and a thick, poisonously sweet disbelief coated her words. I could almost feel sorry for her: she thought we were playing her for a fool. But the memory of her casual dismissal of Liza’s chances at a normal life mitigated my sympathy.
Nathaniel, still unaware of his sister-in-law’s schemes, shook his head. “For whatever reason it convinced Aimee to attack me? And convinced someone to sabotage the ladder. Which could have killed me.”
Hailey twitched and drew her knees up beneath her chin. She’d taken in the whole bizarre conversation without so much as batting an eye, but at the mention of Thane’s fall, she flinched.
“Hailey,” I said, “do you have something to tell us?”
She shook her head.
“Hailey?” Jennifer touched her daughter’s knee. “Did you see anyone mucking about with the ladder?”
“It wasn’t a stupid ghost.” She squirmed. “It was me, okay? I did it.”
Jennifer gasped. The picture of Nathaniel lying caught beneath the ladder flashed in my mind and my stomach heaved. None of us, it seemed, knew how to respond. But Hailey continued.
“I didn’t mean to really hurt him, mom. But you always hated when Danny was sick. You said you were a wife, not a nurse. But then you brought us here so you could get married again and ship me off to boarding school. You forgot what being married meant. Waiting on a man hand and foot. I figured if he sprained an ank
le or broke a leg or something, you’d remember how much you hated that. I didn’t mean anything worse to happen.” Her face scrunched up. “I don’t even remember how I got the idea. But it seemed so obvious. All you needed was a little reminder that you didn’t like taking care of a man and we could go back to being alone. We had such a good time before Danny.”
I wanted to scream, to shout at her, to curse her stupidity and selfishness. And I wanted to cry for Nathaniel, forced to listen as she spilled poison about the underside of his brother’s marriage.
All the color had fled from Jennifer’s face. She swallowed. “That’s not true, Hailey. We discussed boarding school long ago. It’s about your education, your future, not my marital state.”
She gathered herself and I had to admire her self-possession when she turned to Nathaniel. “I apologize. I had no idea. Clearly, moving out is the right thing to do. We’ll leave in the morning.”
Chapter 19
After Hailey and Jennifer left the room, Nathaniel swallowed the rest of his drink and mumbled a curse under his breath.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“For what? For the fact that my brother’s wife wanted to marry me or the fact that my daughter is haunted? Or maybe the fact that my niece tried to kill me.”
“She didn’t mean to—“
“Don’t be naive. It doesn’t suit you. Of course she did. She’s as selfish as Jenn. If she could put me permanently out of the picture, so much the better. The only security I have that she didn’t purposely set a bee loose in Danny’s car that morning is that she would have known Jenn was driving with him.”
Against my own judgment I reached out and laid a hand on his thigh. I wished I had the right to wrap my arms around him and soothe away some of the tension I felt beneath my fingers. But I didn’t, so I blinked back tears and resorted to logic in place of emotions. ”But Jenn was with him. And children don’t always understand adult relationships. I wouldn’t put too much stock in what Hailey said about Jenn’s attitude toward her marriage. She only heard what she wanted to hear, the times Jenn expressed her frustration or discontent. She didn’t pay attention to the good things because they didn’t suit the story she told herself about her mother’s relationship with Danny.”
A Darker Shade Page 18