Watch for the Dead (Relatively Dead Book 4) (10 page)

“She can’t hear us?” Ellie looked up at Abby.

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you know her?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I do. But I don’t know what she’s doing here.” When Abby looked away from Ellie, Olivia was gone, and she and Ellie were left standing on the porch, dripping wet. At least the kitten had been smart enough to stay in the house. “We’d better go inside before we drown.”

When they were back in the living room, the kitten had curled up in a chair and fallen asleep.

Ellie faced Abby squarely. “What’s happening?”

How much did—could—Ellie understand? How much did she dare say? “Let’s sit down—this might take a while. On the steps, since we don’t want to get the furniture wet. You know how we’ve talked before about seeing these people?”

“Uh-huh,” Ellie said.

“And how we’ve figured out that we don’t see everybody, just the ones who are part of our own family tree?”

“Yeah, I get that, I think.”

“Now, these people don’t just float around, following us and popping up when they feel like it. They’re attached to a place.”

“Abby, we already talked about this! Who was that lady?”

She couldn’t tell Ellie the truth, not yet, not like this. “She’s my great-great-grandmother, and her name was Olivia Flagg. Olivia Ellinwood, after she married. I met her in a house she had lived in with her parents in Waltham. That was the first time I realized I could see these people.”

“But this is a different place,” Ellie stated.

“Yes. And when I first saw Olivia, she was a lot younger, like in her twenties. Here she’s about sixty. But I still recognized her. So I guess I have to say that these were two separate experiences for her.”

“Why’s she so sad?”

“Ellie, honestly I don’t know. We’ve talked about genealogy, right?” When Ellie nodded, Abby went on, “So you understand about looking up people from the past—when they were born and died, where they lived, that kind of thing. I know a lot of that for Olivia, since she was my first. I know she married, and had one child—my great-grandmother. I know Olivia outlived her husband by quite a few years. I know she was rich, because her father was successful and left her money—to her, not to her husband. But really, that’s about all I know. Facts.”

“And you don’t know what she was like? I mean, did she leave a diary or something? Do you have pictures of her?”

“I have a couple of pictures. No diary—I get the feeling nobody in that line of my family was interested in writing or using a camera, which is too bad. Or maybe if there was a diary or pictures, somebody threw them out a long time ago. I know I don’t have any of those, and I don’t think my mother does either. It’s too late to do much about that.”

“So why is Olivia here?” Ellie asked.

“That’s one thing I don’t know. And I don’t know why she was so sad, later in her life.”

“Do you want to know?”

“You know, I kind of do. Only because now I’ve met her twice. It makes her more real to me. And I do think that to carry over the years, whatever she was feeling must have been very strong or it wouldn’t have lasted—we wouldn’t be able to see it now.” Abby hesitated. “You did see her, right?”

Ellie nodded vigorously. “I saw her before you did. Am I related to her?”

And now they’d looped back to Ned again. No, she was not going to go there yet. “If you are, it has to be a lot of generations back—six or seven at least. And that’s a lot of people to look up. I just haven’t had the time to do it. We can certainly look into it if you want.”

“I do. She might be my great-great-something or other too.”

“Yes, she might.”

Ellie glanced over at the kitten, who was still asleep. “She saw her too. Didn’t she?”

“I think so.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. Remember what we talked about earlier? When I said that dogs can hear sounds that we can’t? Or smell much more than we can? Insects see colors we don’t? Well, I think the kitten fits there somewhere. She’s just tuned to a different wavelength. She didn’t look scared, did she?”

“Nope. Just kinda interested. She knew there was something there, but she didn’t know what.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Abby, can I keep her?”

“Ellie, that’s something for you and your parents to decide. You haven’t had a pet before, have you?” Ellie shook her head. “Do animals make anyone in your family sneeze, or break out in spots, or anything like that?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve been asking for a pet for a while. Mommy says we can’t have a dog because nobody would be around to walk him, and besides, dogs like company, somebody to play with. But cats are easier, aren’t they?”

“I think so, Ellie, but it’s not up to me. Right now we’ll keep her and take care of her, and maybe when it stops raining we can ask if she belongs to anyone around here. If she doesn’t, then we can ask your mother and father about bringing her home. Okay?”

“So it’s maybe but not no?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay. What’s for dinner?”

Chapter 10

Dinner and the rest of the evening were peaceful, despite the kitten chasing anything that looked interesting. She was a cutie, no question, and seemed completely comfortable with people. And, apparently, ghosts—aware of their presence but not intimidated, which was more than could be said of most humans, Abby conceded. Were those ghosts always there, a kind of infinite loop waiting for someone to see them? Kind of like an online movie service, where endless numbers of movies waited for someone to call them up and watch.

Why after nearly a year had she failed to come up with a title for them?
Ghosts
sounded wrong—most people thought of ghosts as interactive and aware, and occasionally malevolent.
Spirits
sounded too woo-woo, not that she’d ever indulged in any tarot card readers or crystal-ball gazers, even at state fairs. Maybe they were all fakers, or had a smidge of talent and had found a way to use it for money, but Abby doubted they had ever seen what she saw.
Ancestors
was an accurate label but kind of dry, and
dead ancestors
sounded unkind. And now she and Ellie had been reduced to calling them “Them” or “one of Them.” That was their shorthand, but it didn’t explain anything.

It was past nine, after several games, when Abby said, “You about ready for bed?”

“I guess. Can the kitten sleep with me?”

Abby smiled. “That’s kind of up to the kitten, but if she’s okay with it, I don’t mind. But you’ll have to leave your door open so she can get to her box if she needs it.” Abby was about to ask what Ellie wanted to call the furball, but realized that once Kitten had a name, it would be harder still to give her up, and that decision hadn’t been made yet.

“Will the weather be nice tomorrow?” Ellie asked.

“Let me check my phone and see what the weather report is.” Abby retrieved the phone from the dining room and called up the appropriate app. “Looks like the storm will be pretty much over by tomorrow, if not by morning then by midday. We’ll need to get some more food, since Ned may be coming tomorrow, and we need kitten food and kitty litter.”

“Okay,” Ellie said. “Will she be back?”

“Olivia? Might as well call her by her name. I don’t know. We’ve seen her, at the height of the storm. Maybe that was her only shot and she’s exhausted her batteries, if that makes any sense. Or maybe she shows up only during the worst weather, but never on sunny days. Maybe there’s something special about rain, or storms.”

“Why?” Ellie asked.

“I don’t know, sweetie. There’s a lot I don’t know about all this. But there are things we can find out. We’ve got ‘who’ and ‘where’ and an approximate ‘when,’ and that’s enough to get started.”

“Sounds good. Do I have to take a bath?”

“No, you can go to bed. I’ll come up with you.”

Abby made the circuit of the house, making sure all the windows were secure and the doors were locked. It was still wet and windy outside, so she didn’t expect any prowlers would be out and about. At the front window she paused for a moment . . . all right, she admitted, looking for Olivia. It was hard to see out into the darkness, but she didn’t sense Olivia’s presence on the porch, or anywhere else. She turned back to Ellie. “Upstairs now.”

The kitten scampered halfway up, then turned to wait for them. Abby thought she was grinning. That wasn’t possible. Was it?

• • •

The next morning Abby woke early. It was still cloudy, but there was no wind. The storm had indeed passed, as promised. Ned might be here today, or tomorrow at the latest. Ellie had a kitten. And they’d both seen Olivia. Yesterday had been quite a day.

So, today? Find a beach for Ellie to explore. Stock up on supplies, particularly for the kitten. Definitely find a bakery. Were there boat trips? Excursions? Wasn’t there an Indian reservation somewhere nearby? Would there be anything to see there? Any other museums? Maybe Ned would have some ideas, whenever he arrived.

No sound from Ellie’s room, and when she peeked in, the kitten was curled up in a compact ball, nestled against the girl. Abby tiptoed down the hall to take a quick shower.

She was downstairs sipping her first cup of coffee when the kitten bounded into the kitchen, heralding Ellie’s arrival. “Hi, Kitten. Hi, Ellie. What the heck are we going to feed the little one now?”

“You bought tuna fish, right?”

“Yes, I did. Brilliant.” Abby hunted down the can of tuna fish and scooped out half of it onto a plate, setting it on the floor. “How about you?”

“French toast?” Ellie said hopefully.

“Well, I’ve got bread and eggs, but no syrup. Would you settle for it with jelly?”

“Sure, sounds good. Look, Kitten has already finished.” Ellie pointed. “Is Ned coming today?”

“He said he’d try. He’s been here before, so maybe he has some ideas about what to do around here. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine. I don’t think Olivia is still here. Maybe she’ll come back?”

“I don’t feel her either, Ellie. Like I said, maybe it was a one-time thing.” Which was kind of unfair of Olivia, Abby thought—to show up without explanation, and then disappear again, possibly forever. But she had no control over Olivia.

The sound of a car pulling up behind the house startled her, and when she went to the kitchen door she was amazed to see Ned. He looked tired but triumphant, which wasn’t an easy expression to pull off. Abby skipped down the steps. “You must have left at dawn!” she said, pulling him close.

He kissed her thoroughly. “I didn’t bother to sleep. At least I missed the traffic.”

“What on earth is so urgent that one day makes a difference?” Abby asked, tugging him toward the kitchen. “I suppose you haven’t eaten.”

“No to the latter, and I’ll explain the other thing later. Hi, Ellie. Who’s that?” Ned said, pointing to the kitten, who was sitting on the counter in the kitchen, observing him eagerly.

“Hi, Ned. I’m still thinking about names. What do you think about Spooky? Or maybe Shadow?”

“She looks far too self-possessed for either of those. Keep working on it.” Ned extended a hand to the kitten, who butted her head against it, purring. “You said something about food, Abby?”

“French toast, coming up. But unless you brought your own syrup, you’ll have to make do with jelly. Coffee?”

“Please!” Ned dropped into a chair and accepted the coffee mug that Abby handed him.

He looked exhausted. She felt a small shiver of worry. Was there something he wasn’t telling her? Something wrong at work? One of his parents was sick? Or maybe he hadn’t told her the full story about Leslie and George, and it was worse than she thought. Was Ned wondering how to tell Ellie?

Ellie seemed oblivious to whatever was going on with Ned—or so Abby thought until she noticed the sidelong glances Ellie kept throwing his way. Ellie knew something wasn’t right. Damn, having all these psychic links made even ordinary conversations difficult, because there were currents under the surface.

Abby helped herself to more coffee and sat at the table. Ellie had found something—was that really a toilet paper roll?—and was tossing it around the floor for the kitten to chase. “How bad was the storm inland?” Abby asked.

“Not very. All bluster, but no real force. It looked okay driving down this way, too. A few limbs down, but no real damage.”

“We were lucky. I found a really interesting binder of clippings about the Hurricane of 1938—that really was a disaster.”

“You know, I think Daniel mentioned something about that, the first time I was here. If you look at the outside, there’s a very faint change in color on one side, which is where the high-water line was back then.”

“Wow! That is a lot of water.”

“I saw some crabs yesterday!” Ellie exclaimed. “Swimming in the water just out there.” She pointed toward the bay.

“We were thinking about looking for Old Silver Beach today. I bet a lot of shells washed up in the storm.”

“Could be,” Ned said, finishing his breakfast.

“Unless you’d rather take a nap first?” Abby asked anxiously.

“I think I’d feel better if I got out and moved around for a while. Maybe a nap this afternoon?”

“Okay. Ellie and I can go food shopping while you’re asleep. And you can take care of Kitten there.”

“Well, then, Ellie, you’d better wear her out!” he said, half laughing. He turned back to Abby. “You want to go now?”

“Okay—it may be crowded later, right?”

“And all the good shells will be gone!” Ellie added.

Ned smiled at her eagerness. “Then let me dump my stuff upstairs, and I’ll show you how to get to the beach, okay?”

“Do we need swim stuff?” Ellie asked.

“No, but you do need sunscreen,” Abby told her. “The water may still be rough. We can all go swimming tomorrow, okay?”

They were sorted out quickly, and after checking that everything was closed up tight (against what? Abby wondered), they headed back up the highway and turned off at the next exit. The beach was, as Ned had promised, easy to find. This early in the morning—it was barely past nine—there were few people there, and those were mostly older people without children, who enjoyed a peaceful stroll along the sand. Alone.