Shadow of a Life (23 page)

I looked toward the stairs. “What kind
of stuff is up there?”

“
I can’t really remember.
Most of it was in old boxes that probably haven’t been looked
through in decades. I’m sure it’s mostly paperwork and maybe a few
old pictures and trinkets. Maybe you should go through it—there
might be valuables up there. Remember to share with me if you find
anything worth a lot of money.” She laughed.

Every part of my body begged
for a race up to my room to climb the curving staircase leading to
the attic. I was afraid if I acted too anxious Mom would question
my motives even more—or worse, she might offer to help. I
did
not
want her
around if I found something important.

“
So how long are you
staying, Mom?”

“
Do you want to get rid of
me already?” she asked, pretending to be hurt.

“
Of course not. I just
wondered how much time I get to spend with you,” I lied.

“
Well, I think my friend
wanted to leave kind of early in the morning. That’s his car
outside. I dropped him off at another friend’s and he let me borrow
his car to come over here.”

I looked outside and saw a blue SUV
with New Jersey plates parked across the street. I’d noticed it
when we first came home, but assumed it belonged to someone
visiting a neighbor. I was glad Dad wasn’t there to witness Mom
talking about other male friends.

The doorbell rang again and that time
it really was Travis. Mom offered to drive us all to rent a movie.
After the week and a half we’d been having, we opted for a comedy
rather than a horror movie, although normally that would have been
more fun. I vetoed anything romantic, hoping to avoid watching any
awkward love scenes while sitting at my house with the boy I was
infatuated with and my semi-estranged mother. Mom offered to spring
for the pizza, but I picked up the tab knowing she lived on
borrowed money half the time.

We were soon back at my place enjoying
our pie dripping in cheese and the latest comedic release. Mom
stayed in the room and watched the movie with us, but thankfully
she behaved herself. I had fun, but my mind was on one thing only
and it wasn’t the movie. I couldn’t wait to get into that attic,
and I desperately hoped Mom didn’t change her plans and decide to
stay longer. At the end of the night she offered to drive everybody
home so that Camille and Peter wouldn’t have to ride their bikes in
the dark and Travis wouldn’t have to walk. I was sure Peter and Cam
would be over in the morning and they could just get their bikes
then.

Mom and I stayed up late talking that
night—girl to girl and woman to woman. It was nice. It had never
happened before. I ended up admitting to her that I liked Peter,
and she sincerely told me she hoped it worked out for me because
she liked Peter, too. I fell asleep happy that night.

CHAPTER 17

E
ven though I stayed up late, I felt great when I woke up and
nearly jumped out of bed. I had a good feeling about the day. I
used the bathroom first because there’s just no avoiding that in
the morning, but before I showered I went downstairs to see if Mom
was awake yet. Whenever she visits she makes a bed for herself on
our pull-out sofa sleeper. We always offer the guest room, but she
never takes us up on the offer.

Mom wasn’t in the kitchen or dining
room so I quietly tiptoed into the living room, not wanting to
disturb her. Instead of finding a snoozing mass on the hide-a-bed,
I found a neatly folded pile of blankets with a pillow on top. On
the coffee table was a note.

“
Jamesie, I ended up
needing to leave earlier than I expected and I didn’t want to wake
you up to say goodbye. I had a fun time seeing you. Good luck with
Peter this summer! Love you, Lillian.”

She ended the note by drawing a heart
and a bunch of X’s and O’s. That was one of the biggest differences
between Mom and Dad. He would always wake me up to say goodbye no
matter what time it was, but Mom would rather sneak out in the
night to avoid “uncomfortable” goodbyes. Oh well. I didn’t really
care. She’d pop in again eventually, and with her out of the house
I could get up to the attic and see if my Goodwin relatives had any
link to the Goodwins that raised Sophia. I remembered Sophia
telling me that soul savers often had a family link to the ghost
they were trying to help. I might have been grasping at straws, but
it was worth investigating further.

My stomach growled and I decided to
make myself some breakfast before I headed back upstairs. I
scrambled an egg and toasted a couple pieces of bread while it
cooked. I flipped on the annoying morning news show in the living
room again and ate my food on the couch while I watched it, careful
not to drop any crumbs. What Dad didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
After my morning meal I headed upstairs for the shower I’d been
putting off. I didn’t spend much time in there, but chose to hurry
instead—I was a girl on a mission. I threw on a pair of jeans and a
lightweight long-sleeve shirt. It wasn’t my typical summer attire,
but there might be creepy crawlies in the attic and the more skin I
covered, the less chance I had of one of them deciding to make a
meal out of me.

After I’d given sufficient attention
to my appearance I checked my phone for messages. Apparently I’d
missed a call from Dad while I showered. I called him back and he
answered almost immediately.

“
How was your day yesterday?
Are you staying out of trouble?” I could almost hear amusement in
his voice.

“
Of course, Dad. I only
broke three or four laws.”

“
Did you hang out with your
friends?”

“
Yeah. Mom came by,
too.”

There was a pause. “She
did?”

“
Yeah. I was out with
Camille and Peter and when I got back she was here
waiting.”

“
Is she there now? Maybe I
should talk to her.”

“
Actually she left already.
She spent the night, but she was gone by the time I woke up this
morning.”

“
That sounds about right.”
Disappointment tainted his voice. “Do you have any plans for
today?”

I wasn’t sure whether I should tell
him the truth or not. I knew how he felt about me going into the
attic by myself. He always worried that I’d go out on the widow’s
walk and fall off or something. I wasn’t ten years old anymore,
though. I decided to go with a half-truth.

“
Actually, Mom was talking
about some of her ancestors while she was here. They sounded
interesting and I thought it might be fun to do some research on
them today.”

“
Really? That sounds like a
worthwhile project. You’ll have to let me know what you find
out.”

“
I will.”

“
Okay, well I better go. I
need to get over to the conference center for a breakfast meeting.
I’ll call you tomorrow, honey.”

“
Sounds good. Love ya,
Dad.”

“
I love you,
too.”

I pressed the button to end the call
just as it beeped, telling me I had a new message.

“
When do I get to come
over???
”
Camille
texted.

“
As soon as you
can,
” I responded.

“
On my
way.
”

I started to text Peter,
too, but I stopped.
What if he’s starting
to get tired of hanging out with me?
I
didn’t want him to feel pressured. The whole boy/girl thing was
kind of out of my realm of social skills.

While I hesitated, he called
me.

“
Hey.” His voice sounded
gravelly that early in the morning.

“
Good morning.”

“
Camille just texted me and
told me I have to walk to your house with her. Is that
okay?”

“
Sure—if you want to come. I
was just about to invite you, anyway.”

“
Good. We’ll be there soon I
guess.”

I was glad that I wouldn’t have to
spend the day alone in the attic. I looked at my room, suddenly
realizing that I needed to do a little cleaning up—and fast. The
only entrance to the attic was through my bedroom and I would
seriously die if Peter saw one of my bras on the floor. I made my
bed carefully, smoothing all the wrinkles, and tossed the clothes
from the floor into the hamper. I cleared everything that had
carelessly been strung over the attic staircase’s railing and
looked around quickly. It would have to do.

I was just heading downstairs to look
for a flashlight when I heard the doorbell ring. I opened the door
for Peter and Camille, and together we searched my garage for Dad’s
heavy duty flashlights. Dad liked to stockpile emergency supplies
and I was grateful for it. The attic had a light, but if my memory
served me correctly, it was pretty dim. We stopped in the kitchen
to grab a bag of potato chips and some sodas out of the fridge. I
didn’t know how long we’d be up there and I didn’t want to starve
my friends.

“
Your house is really cool,
Jamie,” Peter said as we walked up the stairs. “I like how old it
feels—in a comfortable way.”

“
That’s what Dad and I try
for.”

I led them through my room—which
Camille had been in a million times before—and headed straight for
the spiral staircase. Peter looked around a little, but he
respectfully didn’t stare at any of my personal things.

“
In all the years you’ve
lived here, I’ve never done more than sit on these stairs,” Camille
said. “We aren’t going to find ghosts up there, too, are
we?”

“
The thought hadn’t crossed
my mind before, but now you’ve made me nervous. Thanks,
Cam.”

“
I do what I
can.”

I inserted the key I’d taken from
Dad’s desk drawer into the lock and opened the smaller-than-normal
door. We were greeted by a musty smell and a puff of dust. I
flipped the switch of the flashlight I carried and shined it around
before I stepped up into the attic. Nothing but stacks of boxes and
stuff Dad and I couldn’t quite part with . . . yet. I stepped
forward and pulled the cord of the light bulb, illuminating the
space in a yellow light. I was surprised. Between it and the light
coming from the balcony window, there was enough light that we
probably wouldn’t need the flashlights until we reached the back
corners.

“
Hey. Is this how you get
out on the balcony?” Peter asked, peering through the window at the
world below.

“
Yeah.”

“
I bet you spend a lot of
time out there. You have an amazing view of Marion from up
here.”

“
Actually, I rarely go out
there. Dad’s always afraid I’ll fall off.” I felt like a little kid
admitting that to him.

Peter laughed, but didn’t say
anything.

“
Where do we start?” Camille
asked as she brushed at the dust covering a tote near the entrance
to the attic. I knew that it held Christmas decorations and
wouldn’t contain anything pertaining to our search.

“
We should probably start in
the back. The storage containers in the front are the ones that
actually get used occasionally.”

The three of us weaved our way through
a maze of boxes and clutter to the back corner. Each of us claimed
a carton and opened it up.

“
What exactly do you think
we’re looking for?” Cam asked.

“
I’m not sure, but if you
come across anything that looks important, set it aside and we can
look at it in more detail later.”

“
Have you heard from
Sophia?” Peter asked quietly.

“
Nope. I texted her again
last night and told her about Rita’s warning, but I didn’t get a
response. I’m hoping she’s either out of cell range or just having
so much fun with Nick that she’s lost track of time.”

“
I’m sure you’re right.” He
didn’t sound convincing.

The box I opened first held old
household items, most of which were for kitchen use. There were
wooden spoons, a tarnished tea kettle, and measuring cups. I
removed the tea kettle and examined it closely. It was unusually
ornate for a tea kettle and I sensed it would look nice after it
was polished. The antique collector in me decided to keep it out
when I closed up the box. I planned to take it downstairs and
display it on the stove in the kitchen.

Camille’s first box contained assorted
linens—tablecloths, pillowcases, and dishtowels. Some of the items
were hand embroidered and we checked them thoroughly to see if any
initials had been sewn into the handwork. Nothing.

When Peter opened his box we
were greeted by the smell of old leather. It contained multiple
pairs of old work boots in various degrees of disrepair. It only
took a second to realize that most of the stuff up there could
probably be thrown out or donated to the Salvation Army or some
other secondhand store. Dad and I would
never
use any of it. When we moved,
Dad had a hard time getting rid of Mom’s things so he saved them
all. She obviously didn’t care about the stuff, so I didn’t think
we needed to hang onto it.