I considered my wording carefully. Randa was better about the supernatural than she’d been a year ago, but she still spooked easily, and while I knew she’d inherited some of my abilities, she had chosen another route in life, even at her young age. Kip, on the other hand, was so open that he shone like a beacon, and it was all I could do to protect him and teach him to ward off anything big and nasty.
“I don’t think so, honey. I don’t know what they are, but until I can find out, you guys stay away from there. Okay? I don’t want you hurt.”
They nodded, Randa a little quicker than Kip. “All right. Tomorrow morning, you can run over to some of our neighbors and ask them if they’ve seen Samantha. I’ll bet you anything that she’s hiding. She’ll come waltzing in before you know it.”
Even as I said it, my gut churned. I was kidding them, as well as myself. We’d been all over the house and she was nowhere to be seen. I swallowed back my tears for the kids’ sake and watched as they trooped up the stairs, faces glum.
DURING THE RESTLESS night, I got one break, or at least it seemed that way on the surface. Joe phoned to let me know that he was okay and the fire was out. He’d be staying at the station the rest of the night to finish up reports.
”Was anybody hurt bad?”
He kept his voice low. “Eight. Four serious burns and four minor. Randa knows the son of the couple that are in critical condition, actually—Gunner Lindemeyer’s parents.”
Oh God. Gunner? I leaned back against the bed, pressing my eyes closed. “Please tell me that the boy wasn’t hurt too bad.”
Joe sighed. “He was lucky. He woke up in time to get out but couldn’t reach his parents’ bedroom to wake them. The flames were too thick and the fire started in their apartment. We managed to rescue them, but they’re in pretty bad shape. To make matters worse, the family didn’t have any working smoke alarms—the batteries were all dead. I hate it when people don’t bother to check their alarms to see if they’re working.”
I swallowed a rising swell of panic. “That’s horrible. Do you think they’ll live?” Somebody was going to have to break the news to Randa and I knew it would be best coming from me.
“Maybe. They’re pretty bad off. If they do live, they’ll need numerous surgeries to deal with the scars. Gunner’s mother’s better off than his father; I’d say she’s got the best chance. Gunner suffered from some smoke inhalation, but he’s going to be okay. The kid’s just lucky he woke up and called 911. He could have slept through it.”
Joe’s voice cracked. I wanted to take him in my arms, and soothe him. This part of the job was hard on him, I knew that from watching firsthand. Working on the medic unit brought him in contact with so much pain.
“So when are you going to break the news to Randa?” he asked.
I blew my nose. “Probably first thing in the morning. They were supposed to go out to the movies together but that’s not going to happen now. It would have been her first date.” I glanced at the clock. 2:00 A.M. I sighed. “I just keep thinking of that poor boy. Does he have a place to stay?”
“Yeah, his aunt picked him up. He’s pretty shaken up.”
“I imagine. Man, this is shaping up to be a lousy week.” We talked a little more and then I hung up and went downstairs to make myself a cup of tea. As I heated the water, I heard a rustling on the stairs and turned to see Randa, peeking into the kitchen.
“Mom? What are you doing up? Is something wrong?”
My heart fell. I could still send her back to bed and tell her in the morning, but forestalling the news wouldn’t make it any easier.
“Making tea. I just talked to Joe. Why are you up?”
She frowned at the table. “I woke up and thought somebody was standing next to my bed. But when I sat up, there was nobody there.”
Great, so the astral world was alive and kicking.
“Well, come sit down. I want to talk to you for a minute.”
I poured water over the bags in my pumpkin-shaped teapot. A delicate whiff of lemon rose up. My favorite tea had, at one time, been Moroccan Mint, but this summer it had been usurped by a new love—the London Fruit & Herb Company’s Lemon-Lime Zest tea. The flavor was delicate, comforting. And within a few minutes, Randa would need all the comfort she could get. As reserved as she could seem, my little girl had a soft heart for her friends and family. I arranged a handful of gingersnaps on a plate and carried the tea tray over to the table. As I slid in beside her, she leaned her head on my shoulder and I kissed her hair.
“So you had a visitor?” Though I planned on telling her about Gunner’s parents, I wanted to take care of matters at home first. “Did you see who it was? Were you scared?”
She glanced at me. “You aren’t going to tell me it was just a dream?”
I gave her a gentle smile. “I could, but I don’t think it was. There’s a lot going on right now on the astral and we’re nearing All Hallows Eve. The spirits are a lot more active this time of year.”
“All Hallows Eve. Halloween. Your birthday,” she said, grabbing a cookie and nibbling on it.
“Yes, my birthday.” I shared my birthday with Nanna, my maternal grandmother, whose spirit still showed up every now and then to reassure me or help me get out of one scrape or another.
Nanna had taught me the family traditions. I learned them at her knee, and one of my most beloved rituals stemmed from an ancient western European celebration that had counterparts in many cultures throughout the world. Samhain, pronounced “Sow-ween,” was the festival of the dead—a time during which people honored their ancestors. Halloween was a direct, though secular, descendant of that celebration.
When I was young, after the Halloween parties were over, Nanna would take me to her room. My mother would come along sometimes, though she never showed much of an interest in what Nanna wanted to teach her. There, we would set up a small altar with candles and family photographs, and on the table in front of the pictures, we placed plates of food for the dead and wished them good journeys, wherever they might be headed. Then Nanna would read the tarot to divine what was going to happen during the coming year. As I grew older, I joined her in the practice.
Once I married Roy, I had to make sure he was asleep before I’d sneak outside and sit on the porch. Bundled up in a thick jacket, I’d read the cards and talk to my ancestors. Nanna often showed up on these nights, patting my knee to let me know that I was doing the best that I could under the circumstances, and that my best was good enough.
But the year that Roy and I split, I dragged out Nanna’s box, set up the altar, and began to teach the children their family heritage. Randa participated, though at first she’d been vaguely uncomfortable. But Kip loved the traditions, and they had become his favorite parts of Halloween.
Randa played with her cookie, finally setting it down to pick up her tea. She stared solemnly at the cup. “Mom, can we add pictures of friends to the ancestor altar during Halloween? Or strangers? Maybe something we drew instead of a photograph?”
Where had
that
come from? I thought about it, then nodded. “Well, if they’re dead and you want to remember them, I don’t see why not. Who were you thinking of?” I couldn’t imagine who she’d want to add.
Randa’s gaze flickered up to meet mine and I saw a few tears staining her lashes. “The lady who was standing by my bed. I feel really sorry for her. She didn’t scare me. She just seemed lonely. Like nobody remembers her.”
My stomach knotted as I stared at Miranda. My little girl wasn’t so little anymore. Fourteen, going on forty. Last year, this time, she’d been terrified out of her wits by ghosts. This year, she was feeling sorry for them.
“I think maybe I’d better have a look in your room before I answer your question.” I wanted to run up there and demand to know who was prowling through my daughter’s room, but I forced myself to slow down. Right now, I needed to tell her about Gunner’s folks. “Let’s set your visitor aside for a moment. I have some news I need to tell you.”
She gave me a quizzical look. “Yeah? What’s up?”
I crossed around the table and embraced her, pulling her into my arms. “I’m so sorry, honey. Gunner’s parents were seriously injured in a fire tonight—Joe told me when he called. They’re in the hospital with third-degree burns and we’re not sure they’re going to make it. Gunner will be okay. He suffered from some minor smoke inhalation but he’s going to be all right.”
Her look of bewilderment turned into one of horror. “Oh no, that’s awful! They’re really nice people. Are you sure Gunner’s okay?” Her shoulders began to shake and I held her as tight as I could and kissed her on the forehead.
“He’ll be fine. But this is going to be very hard for him. Even if his parents recover, it’s going to be an uphill battle for a while. He’s going to need all the friends he’s got.” As I smoothed the hair away from her face, she bit her lip and nodded. “Life isn’t fair, honey. That’s one sad fact we both know.”
After a few minutes, she wiped her nose with a tissue and took a sip of her tea. “What happened? Was it an accident?”
I let out my breath slowly and steadied myself. She didn’t need gory details, but she’d hear about it from school or in the paper so I might as well tell her now. I told her as much as Joe had told me, leaving out the gruesome parts. After we drank our tea, I escorted her back to her bed and tucked her in. I tuned in, but couldn’t sense anybody or anything in the room. Randa caught my hand before I could leave.
“Mom, would you plug in a night-light in my room tonight?”
I smiled. “Sure thing. There’s one in the hall bathroom, I’ll get it now.” When I returned with the tabby-cat night-light and plugged it in, she was sitting up in bed.
“When’s the last time you checked the smoke detectors?” she asked.
“Joe checked them two weeks ago. They’re working fine.” I ruffled her hair and she didn’t protest. “Anything else?”
She shrugged and slid back under the covers. Nebula crawled up onto Randa and mewed. Randa snuggled her in her arms and rubbed her nose in the cat’s belly. “She misses her mom. So do I. Is Samantha okay?”
As I closed the door, I said, “I’m sure she’s fine, hon. She’ll be home before we know it.” I wished I didn’t feel like a liar.
On my way back to my bedroom, I stopped on a whim and turned to look over my shoulder. There, in front of Randa’s door, stood a woman. Around twenty years old, she was lovely, with long red hair cascading down her back. A tucked-waist dress fell to her calves, and she wore sturdy shoes. As I gazed at her, wondering what she wanted, the spirit’s eyes grew wide with surprise and she threw up her hands, as if warding off a blow, and screamed.
Even though I covered my ears, I knew that her voice had echoed only within my mind. As the scream reverberated, she vanished from the hall. I raced over to where she’d stood but felt only a cool shaft of air that vanished as I touched it. Closing my eyes, I reached out. No presence, no animosity, no real energy save for the hairs bristling on my arms.
Confused and tired, I crawled back into bed, resting against the headboard. If things kept up this way, maybe I’d skip my birthday this year.
Four
From Brigit’s Journal:
I know my choices haven’t been the wisest. I also know that sometimes people think I’m naive, and that I trust too much. My friend Margaret tells me so. I haven’t confided to Maggie everything that’s happened, but she knows about William and thinks this is all about my missing him. So I let her think what she will. I don’t even dare write the truth in this journal—what if the Missus found it? Or worse, Mr. Edward or Miss Irena? I’d be in so much trouble. So I stick to half-truths and shadows. I am so sick of shadows.
If only I could put my heart away—lock up my feelings and go through life like some of the other girls do. Angela, for example. She was due to get married last year and then her beau ran off with someone else. She never cried, not once. And she seems fine—she has her work, and she’s saving a nest egg for a little house, someday. But I wonder, when she’s alone, does she cry? I never ask. There are some moments into which you do not pry. It seems like so long ago I lost my heart. I wonder if I’ll ever find it again. And will it be whole, or broken forever?
I WOKE TO see Samantha dart across the bottom of the bed and off. “Sammy! Where have you been?” Pushing back the covers, I leapt out of bed but when I looked around for the cat, she was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, I knelt down and peeked beneath the heavy frame. Nothing.
A thorough search of my bedroom yielded no sign of her, and the door to the hall was closed. A dream? I shivered, hoping it was nothing more ominous. I’d seen plenty of animal spirits over the years, and I prayed that Samantha hadn’t crossed over the Bridge to the other side.
As I stared at myself in the mirror, I began to acknowledge to myself just how worried I was about her. I had to keep up appearances for the kids’ sake, but in the privacy of my room, images of cars and big dogs and miserable pathetic humans who preyed on the innocent—both two- and four-legged—ran through my mind. Samantha relied on us, trusted us to take care of her. I’d let her down. Somehow, someway, I’d failed.
A glance at the clock forced me to get myself in gear. I wiped my eyes and jumped in the shower. Joe would be coming over in an hour or so; I needed to be in good spirits for him, considering all he’d had to cope with last night. Thank God I had Murray and Harlow to talk to when I needed a little comfort.
As I lathered up, I leaned my forehead against the tile and let the water stream over my shoulders, willing it to remove some of the knots that had formed in my muscles. Our yoga class was in hiatus for two weeks while our teacher was away on vacation and though I tried to get in a workout at home, it wasn’t the same as having somebody guide me through the motions.
When Randa dragged herself down to breakfast, one look told me she hadn’t slept very well. Kip glanced at her, then me, frowning. He must have sensed something was up because he waited until I was stirring the oatmeal and sidled over to me.