Grave Refrain: A Love/Ghost Story (51 page)

“Why didn’t I remember?” Emily said.

“You had other things on your mind,” Andrew replied softly. “Where did you last leave it?”

“In—in our dining room, I think.”

They all went pouring out through the doorway and up the stairs into the girls’ flat. It was on the fireplace mantle—the vine covered box—right next to Nora.

Emily took it down and placed it on the table, turning the numbers on the lock until they lined up. With a loud click, the latch sprung open. Slowly opening the lid, she felt the press of everyone huddling next to her. Six heads peered breathlessly inside.

On top lay a stack of letters bundled in red ribbon. Emily took them out, noticing that they looked old but well cared for. Two velvet pouches lay beneath them. Shaking one open, a ring fell into her palm. It was a man’s ring, heavy and cool. She held it up; the platinum band reflected the sunlight. It bore the same vine pattern that decorated the box and Nora’s ring.

“Is there anything inscribed on the inside?” asked Christian.

Emily squinted, able to decipher the words there etched in a flowing script. She read them aloud. “To Nick, for every lifetime.” Her voice caught.

She handed the band to Andrew who took it silently.

“The other pouch,” said Zoey. “Open it.”

Andrew looked at Emily and picked it up. He palmed it as though it held something heavy. A key slipped out. A single ornate key, decorated with the same vine design.

“Whoa. What do you suppose it’s for?” asked Christian.

Andrew found her eyes. “Whatever it’s for, I think we need to read these letters.”

Zoey and Margot sat nestled on either side of Emily on the big overstuffed wicker couch in the attic, letters spread out all over their laps. The men sat on the floor. Andrew’s hospital trip appeared temporarily postponed.

Whereas the letters Andrew had found in the trunk had been sent from Nora to Nick, these letters had been sent from Nick to Nora. They covered a period of time much further into their relationship. They read each one aloud to one another too excited to hold the words inside. They spent hours reading. The letters had been urbane and witty. It was impossible not to be charmed by the man, even in memory.

Three letters remained. Andrew began to read them. Emily’s fingers curled around the arm of the couch, hanging on his every syllable.

March 25, 1935

Nora,

The case is dragging on a hell of a lot longer than planned, but I should be back soon. Chicago is fine, but the neon sign in the window has got to go.

I’ve been thinking quite a lot about what you want while sitting here in this flea trap of a hotel room.

We’ve been through this. I know you want to meet my mother, but I’m telling you, it doesn’t matter to me if she never meets you. I don’t want you to be exposed to that level of insanity.

Family is not always family. I’d toss out the bunch of them, especially her. Eccentric isn’t the word, Nora—deranged and obsessed is closer to the fact.

Honey, I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m a sucker that way. Please reconsider. We can do this without anyone’s blessing. In fact, I’d rather be cursed.

Yours,

Nick

April 29, 1935

Nora,

You really can be a wicked pain when you want to be. You won’t take my calls, you won’t answer my letters, and you won’t let me send you a martini at The Huntington Club.

If it really means that much to you, so be it. I’m warning you. You won’t like her, and she definitely won’t like you. Don’t take it personally. You can charm the devil, lady, but you can’t charm a lunatic.

But if you insist. I’m going to marry you one way or the other.

Yours now and always,

Nick

June 25, 1935

Noreen, my love,

I’m truly sorry you had to go through that. I’d like to say I warned you, but that would come up short.

My mother has become fanatical about the supernatural. Ever since she moved into that boarding house in Noyo, she has become obsessed with this lady and all her dire predictions. But that doesn’t excuse the vitriol she hurled at you. Wishing you dead. I could have belted her. You shouldn’t have stopped me.

Nora, who are you going to believe? A crackpot old woman who hears voices in her head, or me, the man that loves you?

I’m leaving for the coast on Friday as we had planned. I promised you a cottage by the sea. It’s the only thing decent from my family, and it’s yours—ours—if you want it.

You promised me a honeymoon. You’ve never broken a promise. It’s what I love most about you.

Nick

Tears smarted in her eyes as Andrew finished.
June 25th
. The letter was dated June 25th. Nick would be dead in six days’ time. And Nora.

Emily wanted to yell at the letter.
No! No, turn back, don’t drive up there to that cottage; stay in San Francisco. Stay in this house.
But they didn’t. They drove up there despite all the strange and sinister warnings from his addled mother. Closing her eyes, she could picture them, hands intertwined, Nora chatting away as Nick offered some droll insight. And it would all happen in the blink of an eye. The crash, the fall, the ending of so many dreams.

“This lady Nick mentions, the one his mother was obsessed with,” Margot said, taking the page from Andrew’s hands, “who do you think she was?”

“Maybe she was a medium?” Zoey whispered.

Margot had taken her laptop and entered in the words:
Noyo, California, supernatural
. “Shit,” she muttered, clicking ahead.

“What? What?” Emily demanded and poked her face toward the screen.

The words were framed in the Noyo Chamber of Commerce website. Margot read them aloud.

“Sitting above Noyo Harbor since the 1860s lies the haunted Noyo Inn, a bed and breakfast that was once a boarding house. Several ghosts are reported to haunt the site. For years, one such spirit, nicknamed The Lady in White, could be heard in the surrounding forests issuing warnings to travelers and locals alike. Nothing is known of her past, but the Pomo Indians believe she has haunted the grounds long before any white settlers claimed the land. Another ghost, the more infamous ‘lady’ of the pair, is believed to be the specter of an old woman who lived in nearby Mendocino, and whose son was killed not far from the site. Mercurial in the extreme, she is alleged to be a violent poltergeist, driving lodgers from their rooms and harrying the staff on multiple occasions. Some reports claim she was responsible for the unsolved disappearance of a young couple that visited the site in the late 1960s. Because of her enraged aura, a violent crimson as opposed to the grayish white of most apparitions, locals refer to her as The Lady in Red.”

“We found her,” whispered Margot.

“Mrs. Chamberlain, I presume. And here I thought she was called that because her clothes or hair were red,” said Christian, amazed.

“The lunatic herself.” Andrew’s eyes found Emily’s.

“Who wants me dead,” Emily whispered to herself.

“But why would Nick’s mom want Emily to die?” asked Zoey. “What’s Emily got to do with any of this?”

“She’s a Thomas,” Christian said. “Just like Nora.”

“But there have to be thousands of Thomases in the world. What’s so special about Emily?” said Simon.