Restless Spirits

by Michelle Scott

  Restless Spirits

  By Michelle Scott

  Restless Spirits Copyright © 2019 by Michelle Scott

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the

  author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living

  or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Second Edition • January 2019

  Chapter One

  The guy with the Bluetooth and the thousand-dollar suit wouldn’t shut up his phone conversation long enough to place his coffee order. However, when Ethan motioned to the next person in line, Mr. Bluetooth angrily snapped, “I was next.” He eyed Ethan like he was a wad of chewing gum on the bottom of his shoe. “Double espresso, nonfat milk poured in, not steamed. Got it?”

  Not for the first time, Ethan felt that he was on the wrong side of the coffee bar. Six months ago, he’d graduated at the top of his class with a degree in political science that he hoped would lead him to a law school scholarship. But then the bottom had dropped out of his life, and now he was slinging drinks in a coffee shop.

  “Step on it,” Mr. Bluetooth said. “I’ve got places to be.”

  As Ethan dutifully rang him up, his scalp prickled in an all too familiar way. His heart began to pound. He had a visitor. Ethan’s breath caught when he saw who it was. Standing out on the sidewalk looking into the coffee shop was a little girl clutching a teddy bear. Her long hair was done up in ponytails tied with pink ribbons, and she wore a matching pink sweatshirt with a princess pony on the front. He hadn’t seen her for a while and had hoped she was out of his life. But there she stood, Kennedy Ladd, looking exactly as she had the day she’d died.

  “Hey!” Mr. Bluetooth snapped his fingers in front of Ethan’s face. “You want my money or not?”

  Ethan numbly took the ten dollar bill and made change. He could feel Kennedy’s unearthly gaze through the plate-glass window. It was raining heavily outside, but the little girl remained dry. Compared to the living people rushing past her on the sidewalk, she was dull, as if she’d been colored in with a fading marker, but her expression was all too clear. Her blue eyes held suffering and mild reproach. You should have saved me, her face said. You could have done it, but you came too late.

  Ethan swallowed as the next customer in line stepped forward. “Can I help you?” he asked. His voice trembled.

  The person in front of him was a mother with a preschooler in tow. She frowned worriedly at Ethan. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to faint.”

  He was. His legs were like jelly; his stomach was churning. However, he managed a smile. He wouldn’t let Kennedy rattle him. He had to keep things normal. “I’m fine. What are you drinking today?”

  More customers queued up to the cash register. Ethan helped them all while sneaking glances at the little girl. She had never harmed him. Never threatened him. Never even spoken to him. But that look of hers drove nails through his heart. Why didn’t you save me when you had the chance?

  Unable to take it any longer, Ethan called it out to Helen, the barista. “I need to take a break,” he said walking away from the cash register.

  “But there’s a line!” Helen protested.

  “I’ll be back.” He took off his apron, threw it under the counter, and stormed out the back door and into the alley behind the shop. He drew in a breath of cold, night air. He’d quit smoking nearly six months before, but a sudden craving almost sent him sprinting to the nearest store.

  Damn! Would the vision ever go away? Could he live down his guilty conscience? Kennedy had died over a year ago! She should have moved on by now. No visitation had ever lasted this long. People died, and then they passed to the other side. That’s how things worked. But apparently, no one had explained this to Kennedy.

  Ethan lingered in the alley, reluctant to go back inside. He would have walked away from the job, but he needed it too badly. His student loans were killing him. He scrubbed his face with the heels of his hands. When had his life become such a mess?

  His cellphone rang. The number carried a 906 area code. He would have ignored it, but it gave him an excuse to stay outside a little longer. “Yeah?”

  “Is this Ethan Rhoades?”

  The man’s voice was vaguely familiar, but Ethan couldn’t place it. Was it another reporter? Or some crank who wanted Ethan to channel his dead mother? “Who is this?”

  “It’s David Foster.”

  Ethan’s shock was so great that he nearly stumbled backwards. His mind flipped to an image of a pair of intense, blue eyes, a sculpted body, and full lips. How Ethan had once coveted those lips! The eyes had inspired poetry. Not a day passed when Ethan didn’t think about that man.

  But not all the memories were pleasant. Mixed in with the school boy infatuation was a recollection of being shoved into a wall while David shouted that he wanted to be left alone. Echoes of the words ‘fag’ and ‘queer’ still burned in Ethan’s ears.

  Ethan couldn’t think of anything to say in response to David, so he said nothing. Just hung on the line, remembering that painful night.

  “I know you’re probably pissed at me, but don’t hang up, okay?”

  “How did you get this number?”

  “Your mother gave it to me. She remembered me from college.”

  Betrayed by his own family! Course, Ethan’s mother hadn’t realized how much David had once meant to him, nor how hurt he’d been by David’s rejection. Ethan never revealed his personal life to his parents. It was best they didn’t know his business. “What do you want?” Ethan’s voice was nearly a growl.

  “I need your help,” David said.

  Ethan gave a startled laugh. “You want my help?”

  “I know I don’t deserve it,” David quickly said. “And I wouldn’t ask for myself, but this is for my sister. Tessa is in a really bad place, and I think you might be able to help her.”

  Tessa? Ethan recalled a wisp of a woman with long, dark hair and David’s striking eyes. Tessa had always been kind to him. Had even sought Ethan out after the disastrous night to tell him that her brother was confused. She’d asked for forgiveness on his behalf. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She says she’s hearing voices. They’re driving her crazy. Her husband is keeping her medicated, but it isn’t helping. I thought maybe you could do something – ”

  Ethan’s hand tightened on the phone. “What makes you think that I can help her?”

  “The voices come from ghosts. Tessa swears that she’s being haunted.”

  Ethan had shared his secret with David in a moment of weakness, confessing how he often received visitors from the other
side. At the time, he’d been relieved that David had taken him seriously. Now, however, Ethan wished he’d never spoken of the matter. “If she is hearing voices from beyond, there’s nothing I can do about it.” Hell, he couldn’t even handle the ghosts who were haunting him.

  “Could you try? I’m desperate, or I wouldn’t bother you.”

  “Ethan! Get back in here,” Helen shouted from the back door.

  “I’ve got to go,” Ethan said.

  “Would you at least consider?” David asked. His voice was tense with worry.

  “Like I said, there’s nothing I can do.” Ethan hung up the phone before David could say good-bye and went back into the coffee shop.

  The coffee shop closed at ten. At ten fifteen, Ethan was sitting across from his best friend in his favorite booth in O’Leary’s Bar.

  Cara had come straight from the hospital, and hadn’t bothered to change out of her Winnie-the-Pooh scrubs. Her brown hair was still in a ponytail. “How is it that I just came off of a twelve-hour shift, but you look worse than I do?”

  “Long day,” Ethan said. Images of David still played in his mind. He could hear that pleasant tenor voice in his ear, asking for help. Almost, but not quite, asking for forgiveness.

  “Tell Nurse Cara all about it, honey.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  The waitress arrived with a pair of drafts, and Ethan gratefully took a long swallow. He didn’t intend to get drunk, but it would be nice to take the edge off of his day. “I saw Kennedy Ladd tonight.”

  Only a few people knew about Ethan’s ability to see ghosts. When he had told his parents that he heard voices and saw people who weren’t there, they’d sent him to psychiatrist after psychiatrist who had medicated him with drug after drug. After that, Ethan wasn’t eager to tell anyone else. Cara’s deep-rooted spirituality, however, had made Ethan trust her enough to tell her his secret.

  Cara’s eyes widened. “I thought you told me that she’d crossed over.”

  “I thought she had.” Ethan ran his fingers through his hair, exasperated. “I haven’t seen her in months, but she was at the coffee shop. The way she looks at me –”

  “Stop!” Cara ordered. “Her death wasn’t your fault. You need to stop beating yourself up about it.”

  He wished he could. He was sick of the guilt he carried. Sick of how he’d wasted the past year serving coffee rather than going to school. He was just plain sick of what his life had become. Yet, the moment he thought he’d finally shed his problems and could move on, the little girl reappeared.

  Cara took a long pull from her beer. “I know I keep saying it, but life does go on. Not just for you, but for Kennedy’s parents, too.”

  Ethan gave a one-shouldered shrug. “They hate me. They keep threatening to sue.”

  “They don’t have a case against you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  No, but they could harass him with false accusations. Ethan had been the one to tell them that their child had died, and this made him the target for their wrath. They needed someone to blame for what had happened to Kennedy, and since there was no suspect in her death, the Ladds targeted him.

  “Have you thought about publicly telling your side of the story?” Cara asked. “You could get an interview with the Sun Times or a spot on the local news.”

  “No way. I’m not about to shed more light on this. I just want it to go away.”

  “The Ladds aren’t shy about having their say.”

  Could Ethan help that he was a private person? “Let’s talk about something else,” he said. “How was your day?”

  The way Cara dropped her eyes spoke volumes. “Sarah died today,” she said softly.

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan said. Here he thought he had all kinds of problems, but Cara saw much worse at her job as a pediatric oncology nurse. He had to stop wallowing in his own misery and start thanking his lucky stars that he had his health and his friends.

  Cara dried her eyes on a cocktail napkin. “Look at what her parents gave me.” She withdrew a folded piece of paper from her pocket and smoothed it open. On it was a childish drawing of a bald-headed, little girl in a hospital bed and a brown-haired nurse standing beside her. The nurse had angel wings on her back. “Sarah drew this.” Cara’s voice broke, and she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.

  “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” Ethan leaned across the table to give her an awkward hug.

  Cara searched his face. “You think she’s okay, don’t you? I mean, she probably had someone to lead her over to the other side, don’t you think?”

  “I’m sure Sarah had a lot of people waiting for her,” Ethan said.

  “Will you come by the hospital tomorrow to see if she’s still around?” Cara asked. “I can’t bear to think of her lost or scared.”

  “I will,” he promised.

  They finished their beers and ordered two more. The conversation turned to their long-standing argument over who was better – the Cubs or the White Sox. Ethan always rooted for the Cubs, no matter how bad their seasons were. Cara was a die-hard Sox fan.

  In the middle of their good-natured feuding, Ethan got a text. His heart lifted while his stomach fell. It was David. “Plz consider helping” was all the message said. A second later, a link to a website popped up.

  “You’ve got that look again,” Cara said. “The one where I think you might start turning over tables and punching out strangers. What’s up?”

  Instead of answering, Ethan went to the web page. It was an obituary for a baby who had died at five days old. The parents were listed as Grant and Theresa Muir. Theresa. Tessa. Ethan’s hand tightened on his phone.

  “Ethan? You okay?”

  Ethan shoved the phone back into his pocket. “It’s a fraternity brother whom I haven’t seen in over two years. He wants me to do a favor for him.”

  Cara raised her eyebrows. “And you don’t want to?”

  “No.” But the favor wasn’t for David, was it? It was Tessa who needed his help, and Tessa who deserved it. Unlike her brother, she’d never done anything to hurt him.

  Suddenly, Ethan was ready to go home. The bar was too hot and too crowded. There was a soccer game on, and every time the table near his roared in approval, Ethan wanted to shout at them to shut up.

  He took a ten from his wallet. “I should go.”

  “Already? It’s hardly midnight,” Cara joked. She rose as well and slung her purse over her shoulder. She hugged him tightly, and he tweaked her ponytail. “Stay sane,” she told him before she left.

  It was hard to stay sane when he didn’t consider himself that way in the first place.

  The next day, as customers filed in and out of the coffee shop, Ethan listened to their orders with half an ear. His mind played and replayed the brief conversation he’d had with David. Had there been any genuine remorse in his voice, or had he simply been concerned over his sister? And what of Tessa? Was it fair to let her suffer if Ethan could do something to help her?

  Then again, he’d tried helping the Ladds and that had ended in disaster. His father was right. No good deed goes unpunished. Ethan grit his teeth when he thought of the lawsuit that the Ladds kept threatening him with. If they made good on the threat, he would need to hire a lawyer, but he didn’t have the fifteen hundred dollars for a retainer. With the Ladds as wealthy as they were, he knew their team of lawyers would be top notch. He was already buried in debt from his student loans. If the lawsuit went through, he’d be buried a second time.

  Ethan’s cell buzzed during his shift, but Ethan ignored it until he was back at his apartment. Once again, David had texted him. This time, there was no message, only a link to another news article. This one was from a small, northern Michigan paper. The headline read: Millionaire Muir Donates to Local School.

  According to the article, Tessa’s husband was a very wealthy man. His family had started in the timber industry back in the early 1800’s, and from there had diversified into railroa
ds. They lost everything in the Great Depression, but then, in the late 1990’s, Grant and his business partner, Michael Rooks, sold a steering linkage patent to G.M. With money from that, Grant had invested heavily in cell phone technology. The venture had made him millions. Eighty-five million to be exact.

  The message behind David’s text was clear. If Ethan agreed to come give a reading for Tessa, he’d be paid for his effort.

  It wasn’t about the money; it was about Tessa and her grief. Still, the monetary incentive was strong especially given Ethan’s current financial situation. After tangling with Kennedy Ladd, he’d vowed to never bother the spirit world again, but maybe he could bend that rule. But he wasn’t doing it for David. This was strictly for Tessa.

  With a feeling of misgiving, he dialed David’s number.

  Chapter Two

  Rain hammered on the car roof, and the wipers did nothing to clear it from the windshield. Ethan drove slowly down the unfamiliar road, looking for a turnoff that didn’t seem to be there. The darkness swallowed up his headlights. He was so far off the beaten path that even his cell phone failed him. As far as Siri was concerned, there was no Thunder Point Drive.

  David’s directions had been precise, but it was too dark to recognize the landmarks he had described. Ethan was used to city driving where streets were identified by fast-food restaurants and shopping malls. Out here, every tree looked the same, especially in the dark.

  Just keep heading north, Ethan advised himself. If he did that, sooner or later he’d run into Lake Superior and the tiny burg of Groveland. He crept along the narrow, two-lane road which cut like a tunnel through the dense woods. Although he’d fueled up two hours before, he worried about running out of gas. Out here, there were no gas stations. He hadn’t passed another car in fifteen minutes.

  Lightning tore a hole in the dark sky, and thunder rumbled immediately after. The storm was right on top of him. Momentarily blinded, Ethan tapped the brakes just as something ran out from the woods. Ethan’s brain registered a flash of white and long, dark hair. He twisted the wheel to the right. The front tires hit the shoulder while the rear ones skidded further into the road. He fought for control, but the car had too much momentum. It bounced and shuddered down a steep incline, tree limbs scratching the metal like claws.