Ghost for Sale (21 page)

“Patrick?” Marcy stepped forward.

“Yes?” Patrick turned to her, but he continued to glance back at me, concerned.

“Could you come back tomorrow night about eight o’clock?” Marcy opened the door.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“We’re going to have a séance.”

My insides iced and my legs tingled. My breath stuck in my throat.

Liam stared at Marcy.

“Well?” She smiled at Patrick, her head tipped, her hands on her hips, as if she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on us.

“Never a dull moment at this house,” he observed. “See you tomorrow night.”

As soon he left, I turned on my cousin. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“It’s time for Liam, Anna, and her friend to move on, sweetie.”

The expression in Liam’s eyes was poignant. I forced myself to pay attention to Marcy.

“I found someone reputable. I spent most of the day checking her out. Now tell me what happened in the kitchen.”

“When Clayton said I’d need to stop slumming after we were engaged, Liam grabbed him by the collar and marched him out the door.” I started to giggle again, then sobered. “Why didn’t you tell me Clayton came on to you?”

“Clayton asked me out a long time ago.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “When you first started seeing each other, you were at loose ends. I didn’t see where it would hurt anything. If I’d realized what a complete ass he is, I would have warned you off. And thank goodness I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t have gotten to see that fascinating exit.” She chuckled.

A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. “There is that. Marcy…”

“Hmm?” She’d sat back down and reached for the remote. “I’m going to rewind the movie. Though, I’m sure it won’t be nearly as engrossing as our evening has been thus far. By the way, Liam, well done.”

He grinned.

“Marcy,” I said again.

“What?”

“If you’re sure you want to do this, there’re a couple of people I’d like to invite.” I proceeded to tell her about the two friends I’d made in Ruby Falls.

“That’s a great idea. Not counting Liam, that’ll make six of us.”

“Tell me again what your cousin is planning to do.” Liam was once again stretched out a foot above the couch, ankles crossed, his hand propping up his head.

“She’s contacted a medium to try to make contact and…” The words stuck in my throat. I swallowed and continued, “Send you into the light.” I bit my lips together, determined not to do anything stupid, like cry. This was what I wanted for Liam. This was what would be best for him. But not for me.

“Well if a spiritualist couldn’t help Lincoln’s wife, I don’t see them doing much for a Johnny Reb,” he grumbled.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“What are you talking about?” Marcy asked curiously.

“Mary Todd Lincoln used a spiritualist on the death of her son. Lincoln came to some of the séances.”

“Cool.”

“It didn’t help her any.” Liam floated from his place above the couch nearer to the ceiling.

“It didn’t help her any,” I parroted.

“But we think we know who is standing between Anna and—”

“Don’t say it,” Liam and I cautioned at the same time.

“And her fiancé,” Marcy finished up. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Ezra destroys us,” I said and reached for a piece of cold pizza.

The next evening found me trying to rub away a headache forming between my eyes. After eighteen years of interacting with Marcy, I knew the futility of arguing once she’d made up her mind. She wanted this séance to be an event. I just wanted it over.

It was nearly seven-thirty. I’d called Aileen and Ethel. They’d accepted with alacrity and promised to be here before eight.

Dark blue candles sat in the center of the table. The scent of incense wafted from a burner on the mantle. A mahogany espresso end table held a bowl of crystals. Refreshments covered the kitchen bar. I had balked at the hors d’oeuvres, but Marcy assured me refreshments were offered at all the best séances. I bowed to her wisdom.

Sasha Blaine, or Madam Sasha as Marcy called her, would be arriving any minute. I walked around the dining room where Marcy had decided to hold the séance.

The fan overhead circulated the air and caused the candle flames to sway. It also brought the scent of cinnamon and limes. Liam strode back and forth around the room a foot off the ground, muttering.

“What if it works?” he demanded, stopping in front of me.

“Do you think it will?” My heart tightened. Coldness permeated me to the bone, and I rubbed my arms trying to warm myself.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He threw up his hands. “It didn’t work for Mary Todd Lincoln.”

If I had a dollar for every time I’d heard that in the past twenty-four hours. “She was a Yankee.”

He stopped his pacing and grinned. “So she was.”

“Are we ready?” Marcy strolled into the dining room. She wore a black scarf, pulled over her forehead and tied behind her head. A white, low-cut peasant blouse showed off her honey-colored skin, and a black and red silk skirt swished when she walked. Her feet were bare. All she needed was a tambourine.

“All she needs is a tambourine,” Liam said.

I swallowed a laugh. “Nice look, Marcy. Of course, you can make an elongated paper bag look good.”

“You like it?” She swirled around and bells jingled. For the first time, I noticed them sewn to the bottom of her hem.

“It should get the spirits moving, at least the guys.” A giggle tickled my throat.

“Why thank you. What do you think, Liam?” She spoke to the air in the opposite direction of where he stood.

“Very fetching.”

“Very fetching,” I repeated.

“Thank you.”

She glanced at me from head to toe. “Very twenty-first century, Caitlin.”

I wore black jeans, a black silk blouse, and a long rainbow moonstone necklace. I fingered the stones, hoping their positive energy would see me through the night. Before I could respond, the doorbell rang.

“That’s Madam Sasha.” The bells on Marcy’s skirt tinkled as she turned to hurry out. When she got to the arch, she shifted in my direction, her manner somber. “Good luck tonight, Liam.”

“Thanks. And thank you for what you’re doing. If it works, I’ll be eternally in your debt.”

“He thanks you, and if it works, he’ll be eternally yours,” I loosely translated.

“That’s not quite what I said,” he protested.

“Promises, promises.” Marcy gave an airy wave and disappeared through the doorway.

Liam stood so close the energy around him warmed my skin and gave me a pleasurable tinge.

“Lass.” He reached out a hand.

I held my breath. I wanted him to touch me so badly it hurt. He dropped his hand and sighed. “For Anna’s sake, I want this to work. For mine… I don’t know if I can bear it. But you listen to me. If it does work, I want you to get on with your life.”

“Stay,” I whispered. I hadn’t meant to say it, would have bitten off my tongue if I could have prevented it. But the word was out before I could call it back.

His tortured countenance mirrored the agony building inside me. “I can’t do anything for ye. If I move on tonight, you need to forget me and find someone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else.” Tears stung my eyes.

“Lass, I couldn’t make love with you. I couldn’t give you children.”

“I could adopt.” I cringed as the words slipped out, appalled that I was making this evening harder for him. But I couldn’t seem to stop.

He tried for a lighter note. “And how would I discipline the little beggars? An electric shock to their hindquarters?”

“I don’t believe in corporal punishment.”

“Ye are missing the point.” He clutched his head.

“Liam, you’re my world. I don’t care if I never have sex or children as long as I have you.” My breath came in deep sharp pants. I needed a paper bag.

“Calm down, lass. What’s the chance of this even working?” His tone was soothing, his features relaxed. But he didn’t fool me. His form was sharp and clear, more defined than usual. The cords in his neck stood out and a tic was visible in his jaw.

“Right, you’re right.” I stopped my mental hand wringing. If he could give the appearance of calm, I could at least try to do the same.

“You didn’t mention that someone in the house had already made contact.” The voice that came from behind me was low and rich, filled with magnetic energy.

Heat crept up my cheeks. I batted it down. After all, she was supposed to be a medium.

She came forward and extended her hand. “I’m Sasha Blaine.”

She wasn’t at all what I’d expected. Sasha Blaine wore a tailored white suit with a gold silk shell underneath the jacket and a string of pearls. Low black pumps, simple enough to be very expensive, encased her feet. She could have been anywhere between thirty and sixty. Her chestnut-colored hair was cut in a sleek bob and liberally streaked with gray, her face devoid of makeup.

“Caitlin King.” I held out my hand.

Hers closed over mine. Electricity sang up my arms. Oh boy, this was the real deal.

“What is it you are hoping to accomplish tonight?” Her voice, while charged with energy, soothed. I held onto her hand like a lifeline. Strength of purpose flowed through me. I took a deep steadying breath. “Reunite two lovers and send three souls into the light. Maybe four,” I amended, thinking of Ezra.

“Then we’ll see what we can do.”

The doorbell rang again. Marcy smiled encouragingly at me and slipped out to answer the door. Ethel and Aileen walked in chattering, their voices filled with excitement.

“Here, I thought these might help.” Ethel thrust two pictures at me. One was of Liam. The other was of the church picnic, which had William, Anna, and Ezra in it.

“May I see?” Sasha held out her hand.

She took the picture of Liam, held it between her hands, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she looked at me. “He’s with us and he loves you, very much.”

My throat constricted and my eyes stung.

“Oh my,” Aileen breathed.

She hadn’t seen that one coming.

Sasha set the picture on the table and took the other. Aileen and Ethel clasped hands. Marcy leaned forward, engrossed. I held my breath.

“I feel—” Sasha began. The doorbell rang again.

My breath went out in a whoosh. “That will be Patrick.”

I hurried to the door.

He stood on the stoop, in clean jeans and a forest green Henley, holding daisies. “I don’t know if they’re appropriate for a séance, but they’re for you. I should have brought some for Marcy, but I didn’t think of it.”

“Thank you. They’re beautiful. Please come in.” I stepped back and he walked in. He seemed so comfortable and solid after dealing with spirits and lacerated emotions. I buried my nose in the flowers. They smelled of sunlight instead of dark and ethereal beings.

Everyone had moved into the kitchen where they all talked at once. Marcy, the perfect Southern hostess, was pouring coffee and passing out cookies. “Hi, Patrick.” She gave him a bright smile.

“Hi, Marcy.” He smiled back and ambled toward her. She handed him a cup of coffee and a plate heaped with cookies.

“Thanks.” He set the plate down and popped a cookie in his mouth.

“The flowers are beautiful. How did you know Caitlin loves daisies?”

I liked all flowers, but Marcy was nothing if not diplomatic.

He swallowed the cookie and wiped crumbs off his upper lip before he responded. “They remind me of her, pert and pretty, like sunshine.”

“Nicely said,” Marcy complimented. “Let me introduce you to everyone while Caitlin sees to her flowers.” Patrick grabbed his plate of cookies.

I got a crystal vase out of the cabinet while Marcy took Patrick’s arm and made the introductions.

The group prattled on, except for Sasha, who remained unruffled, answering questions in her calm way. “This is a good group. Everyone here has an open mind. Shall we begin?”

As the others trooped into the dining room, I mouthed to Liam, “I love you.”

“I know, lass.” His stormy eyes grew dark and intense, like waves crashing against the shore.

Patrick stood in the entryway. “Are you ready, Caitlin?”

If he’d seen anything, he didn’t let on. And at this point, if he had, did it really matter?

We walked into the dining room together. As Patrick and I strode through the entryway, Liam passed through the wall. The others were already seated. There was one seat open at the end of the table and one beside Sasha.

“Caitlin, please sit beside me.” Sasha pointed to the empty spot. Patrick walked to the end of the table and pulled out a chair.

Liam moved to stand behind me. The sharp scent of limes and cinnamon surrounded me, more tangy than usual. Nerves skittered up my spine. What if Sasha really found a way to send him back? I needed him to reassure me everything would be okay.

As if he knew, he moved closer. Electricity ricocheted around me. It enveloped and energized me. For a moment, sadness darkened his eyes before he winked and gave me a thumbs up. I forced my clenched jaws loose and smiled.

Her countenance calm, Sasha watched me, her dark brown eyes filled with knowledge. Again I thought, she was the real deal.

Ethel and Aileen talked in low animated voices. Marcy leaned forward to chat with Patrick. Their chatter faded into the background as Sasha’s magnetic gaze drew me in. “You’ve already made contact.” It was a statement, not a question.

I cleared my throat. “It’s not the spirit we’re trying to contact.”

She reached over and picked up the photographs that Ethel had brought and laid them on the table. Then she placed her hand on the pictures, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

Everyone stopped talking. The room grew quiet. All was silent except for a light swish of material and a low tinkle from a single bell as Marcy shifted in her seat. We held our collective breaths. Only Ethel’s features registered dismay, and I had no doubt that had to do with someone touching the pictures.

Several moments passed. Finally, Sasha spoke, her eyes still closed. “Your spirit has a strong presence. He’s a good man. He wants his sister to move into the light, but he is reluctant to leave you.”