Gravity, a young adult paranormal romance (18 page)

"Remember when we used to go every year to the
one in the old cider mill?" Hugh said, smiling at the memory. "You
were just a little girl then, so it wasn't too scary for you. And
then we would eat caramel apples and cider on the picnic tables out
back and watch the sun go down."

"I do remember," I said. "That was always a
lot of fun." I turned to Theo. "Would you be interested in going to
this one?"

"Sure," Theo agreed brightly. "That would be
great." Her smile remained a bit too tight. She seemed very nervous
about going to Erasmus, even though she was around people who were
on her side.

A red brick building from the turn of the last
century housed Erasmus. The perfect place for an art collection.
Slender topiaries in planters guarded the entrance. Black and
orange bows had been tied on them. Theo looked up at the building
like we were about to enter a holy temple. I thought she might
cross herself.

"Come on," Hugh said, waving us inside to
follow him.

The interior had modern architecture, with
high ceilings and bowed archways. Windows lined the entire front
side of the building, with vertical, mood-setting tan blinds. I had
been there numerous times, accompanying Hugh when Claire was
working since he didn't trust me to function by myself. There was
now a permanent collection of snacks in my honor sitting in the
back room.

Gwen, my dad's assistant, greeted us by the
front counter. "Hi, Ariel. Who's your friend?"

Gwen was from Louisiana, with a deep southern
drawl. She always wore bright jewel tones that complimented her
dark skin. She smiled warmly at Theo, and extended her hand to
shake.  

"This is Theo," I informed her. "She's my next
door neighbor. She just moved here this past spring."

"Don't worry, I'm pretty new myself," Gwen
said with a wink to Theo.

Gwen had been working for my dad since she
moved to Hell last fall. She'd been an integral part at the very
start of the business. Hugh didn't have a great grasp on things
like taxes and bills, so the gallery would never run without her.
Not to mention she brought so much life to the building it was hard
to imagine Erasmus without her.  

"Well, feel free to have a look at anything
you like," she said, as she and Hugh started talking shop behind
the counter.  

Theo and I wandered slowly from room to room.
Painted benches sat in the center of each open space, to admire the
treasures on the walls. Not only did Erasmus house paintings and
sketches, but also sculptures, painted tiles and more unusual fare
for collectors. A gray, squat potter in the shape of a medieval
beast lurked in the corner. High windows along the front let in
streams of sunlight.  

Theo regarded everything with reverence as she
took it in. The thought of how much everything probably cost made
me wince. But I knew there were many people in Hell who could
obviously afford fine art, as the gallery did steady
business.

My thoughts kept going impatiently to the
orphanage. Now that I was so sure that something was haunting me, I
had to admit I was apprehensive about ignoring it.

"Alright, you're going to think I'm weird," I
said.

I wanted Theo to know what my plans were. I
didn't just want to foist them on her at the last minute; I wanted
to make sure she was willing to go along with them, or at least
tell me if I was crazy.   

"Don't worry, I already think you're weird,"
she teased. When she saw my serious look, her face became solemn.
"What's up?"

We sat down on one of the benches, painted
with orange tropical flowers.   

"I was thinking of maybe having a séance," I
said carefully. I had listened many times when Corinne told people
about her beliefs, and watched their faces become skeptical and
mocking. But I didn't see that look in Theo's watchful eyes.
"Warwick was telling me about the orphanage, the one that was
advertising on the radio. That it used to be a hotbed of spiritual
energy or something. I thought maybe it would be interesting to try
to, I don't know," I shrugged, unable to find the explanation I was
looking for, "Call it up?"

Theo's eyes went to the tall sculpture made of
crushed cans in front of us. "For sure," she said after a second.
"I would love to be a part of that. Consider me in."

We ended up spending the remaining afternoon
in Erasmus, drinking strong coffee diluted with creamers as Gwen
and Hugh walked around and planned where they were going to fit
Deborah Strait's work. By the time we got home, it was deep into
dark, and Theo was chatting excitedly about her plans for her
sketches.  

"Thanks," she said genuinely, putting her hand
on my arm.

"You deserve for people to know how talented
you are," I replied. "You can't keep that to yourself. You'd regret
it forever."

I watched her skip back to her house, leaning
on the same fence that had separated us a month ago. It was funny
how fast things could completely change.   

I went into research mode in the following
days. I visited every site I could find on séances that didn't
require me to sign up with a credit card. The most legitimate of
what I found required four to six people. There were all kinds of
different methods, all touted by the people who provided them to be
the best. Some involved holding hands, some just touching fingers,
some standing, some sitting. I filled an entire legal pad with
notes, but looking them over I found a convoluted mess. I would
only get one chance, so I didn't want to fail. I figured Aunt
Corinne would know exactly how to perform one. 

But where would we get two other people? It
wasn't like I had a large pool of friends from which to
draw.

Of course, I knew who I was most willing to
extend an invitation to, and any excuse for me to talk to him
worked, even if he didn't think ghosts were real. Henry wasn't
going to make it to study this week because he was helping his dad
clear out old court papers in their storage unit, so I knew I had
to scout him out at school.

I found Henry outside, waiting for the Lexus
to arrive. He was leaning in front of the twisty oak by the bottom
of the school steps, his foot up on the trunk. The top button of
his shirt was undone, letting me peek at the smooth skin of his
chest beneath it.

"Hi," he greeted me. I looked up into his
eyes, embarrassed as he spoke. "How's Vanderlip treating
you?"

"Fine," I said with a soft laugh. I had no
idea how to bring up my plans without it being awkward, so I just
said them. "You want to go to a haunted house this
weekend?"

His warm eyes assessed me for a minute and he
slid his hands in his pockets. "Honestly, haunted houses aren't
really my thing. I don't know if you heard me in Warwick's class or
not, but I don't believe in ghosts. That stuff is brainless."
 

"Yeah, I heard you saying that," I admitted.
"But it's just for fun. We're not taking it seriously. We were
going to stick around and hold a séance. That's how Hell people get
our kicks, y'know. Halloween is in our
blood."    

The wind caught his hair and ruffled it. A
pensive look on his face, like he was bracing to deliver bad news,
he said, "Séances, also corny."

"Well, I know it's not as cool as dragons," I
said, rolling my eyes.

"I know how to separate fantasy from reality,"
he said seriously, his eyes darkening a little.  

"So do I," I retorted. Most of the
time.

I started to turn away, deciding it was a lost
cause.

"What the hell, I'll go," he said
unexpectedly. "You've convinced me. What day are you
planning?"

"Saturday," I said, trying to contain my
irrational excitement. "We're going to the orphanage where the
haunted house is, and then I think we're going to hang around
after. Oh, and make sure you bring a fourth person. It doesn't
matter who it is as long as they're willing. And as long as it's
not Lainey, or Madison."  

"Okay. But don't be offended if I laugh," he
warned. His father pulled to the sidewalk and Henry nodded goodbye
as he got into the car and disappeared.  

Chapter 13

Hugh and Claire went to the airport Friday
afternoon to go to a wedding in New York. It was the weekend before
Halloween. They asked Aunt Corinne to come over and keep me
company, which decoded meant watch over me. 

"You need a babysitter at fifteen?" Theo had
asked skeptically at lunch.

"Yeah, you know. I might try to put metal in
the microwave, or get a boo boo and need it bandaged," I joked. "Or
throw a banging party considering how popular I am."

In reality, I didn't protest my parents'
decision. I knew that it was shaky ground allowing me to go back
and forth to school, and I didn't want to jeopardize the only real
freedom I continued to retain.

I had two hours to myself before
Aunt Corinne came, in which I caught up on my laundry and
read
A Tale of Two Cities
for English. I cleaned off the counters in the
kitchen, and re-vacuumed the living room carpet, trying to make
everything as nice as possible for my picky aunt, even though
Claire had been scrubbing her hands raw up until the last minute.
The house now smelled strongly of the five apple cinnamon candles
burning on the kitchen windowsill.  

Corinne arrived a half hour late, pulling two
huge suitcases and a steamer trunk out of her minivan.

"There was traffic," she said in her nasal
voice as she began to drag the bags in.  I had no idea what
she could possibly need so desperately for two days; she only lived
thirty minutes away in Ann Arbor.  

I helped her get settled in the den where she
was staying. She griped about the short length of the couch, and
the lack of a TV, but otherwise seemed semi-satisfied. About an
hour later, I hung out in the kitchen while she botched an attempt
at dinner. I peered in the deep stew pot and couldn't identify the
vegetables within the greenish sludge.

"Have you ever seen a ghost?" I asked her,
attempting to sound nonchalant as I took a seat at the table. I
shifted the full napkin holder back and forth.  

"What do you mean?" Corinne turned to me while
stirring, her nose scrunched up. If I didn't know her better, I
would assume it was the noxious fumes the pot was starting to emit.
But that was Corinne's default face.

"Have you ever actually, with your own two
eyes, seen a ghost?" I asked again, lacing my fingers together.
 

She paused for a second, tapping gunk off of
the spoon and setting it on a paper towel on the
counter.

"I've had paranormal experiences before," she
said cautiously, coming over and taking the seat across the table
from me. I watched her pick out her words. "I've heard them and
I've sensed them. I can feel when a spirit is nearby, or even if
it's just the energy that the being has left behind." She moved her
arms in a windmill motion as she talked, giving her the loony
psychic aura.   

"So the answer is no?" I asked
bluntly.

She met my eyes and looked irritated. "That's
right." She let out a great big sigh, and her pointy shoulders
shuddered underneath her navy blouse. "Not for lack of trying,
however. Guess I didn't inherit mommy's little gift." Her tone was
unmistakably bitter.

I perked up. "Mommy's little gift?"

She laughed, her lips curling into a sneer.
"You mean Claire didn't tell you?" Off of my puzzled look, she
said, "Of course not. I'm sure she thinks it's shameful to the
family."

I waited for her to continue. It didn't take
long.

"My mother, your grandma, Eleanor, saw ghosts.
Not just communicating with them, she saw them, as real as
anything," Corinne divulged.  

My jaw nearly dropped off of my
face. The skin covering my spine slithered. What was she telling
me? I briefly remembered the file marked
Eleanor's Medical Records
in the
basement.

"She wouldn't want me telling you," she said
matter-of-factly, standing and returning to her pot stirring. She
had missed her calling as an old-fashioned witch decoration,
complete with cauldron. Or maybe that was just Hell having its
affect on me. 

"I won't tell her," I pleaded. "I'd really
like to know."

"She never told me that much about it,"
Corinne said, but I couldn't tell if she was lying or not. "She
would tell me stories when I was little, but around the time I
turned ten she..."

And here she paused, and I could practically
hear her brain picking out her words again like a toy crane
machine.

"She stopped."

There was finality in her tone that told me
not to push it. When a person irritated my aunt, she would give
them the cold shoulder for months, sometimes decades. She stood and
started rooting around for plates in the cupboards. I got up and
retrieved the regular dinner plates.

"If someone wanted to go about having a
séance, what would they do?" I asked as innocently as I could
muster.