A Grave Conjuring Page 33

  I swung the heavy oak door open and my jaw dropped.

  Gwen stood there in heels and makeup. Her girl-next-door natural look was elevated to a downright charming level. Even her hair was loose, the dark mane flowing over the shoulders of a light-lime-green linen dress which ended a couple of inches above her knee.

  She noticed my eyes boggling and did a quick twirl. “I hope I didn’t overdo it. You did say your grandmother likes to gussy up for dinner.”

  “You nailed it, don’t worry.” Even so, I felt a little shabby in my jean skirt and top.

  Stepping into the entrance hall, she gave her head a small shake. “I can’t remember the last time I got dressed up to go to someone’s house for dinner.” She looked over to me. “Dates at restaurants? Sure. Weddings and such? Absolutely. But doing this to visit with my neighbors? That’s a new one.”

  I nodded as I shut the door behind her. “It’s been dressing for dinner every night since I arrived.” I glanced back toward where the living room was. “And I’ll bet GM has been doing it all along. Pretty Old School, huh?”

  She made a small shrug. “I don’t know... I think it’s kind of elegant. Making a thing out of sharing a meal every night... it’s kind of cool, don’t you think?”

  I scoffed. “You do it every night, and we’ll see.”

  She laughed lightly. “You might have a point, but I’d sure love to find out.”

  “I don’t know, Gwen; I think those genteel times are kind of gone with the wind.”

  Before she could reply, Lawrence appeared from the living room archway. “Gwen, isn’t it? It’s nice to meet you instead of just seeing you on your route.” He took her hand and even did a slight bow as he smiled at her. “I’m Lawrence Brady, Mrs. York’s assistant.”

  “How do you do,” she replied. “It’s nice of you and Mrs. York to invite me. I’ve always admired this house and wondered what it would be like inside. I never imagined I’d be invited here for dinner.”

  His hand extended pointing the way to the living room. “This way, please. Mrs. York is in the living room.”

  I led the way to where GM was seated on the large sofa. We crossed over to her and I made introductions.

  “Thank you for asking me to dinner, Mrs. York. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

  Taking in Gwen’s outfit, GM smiled and nodded. “It’s nice to meet Keira’s friend, even though we’ve obviously seen you around. Would you care for a drink? Lawrence makes a mean gimlet.”

  Gwen looked nervous as she answered, “Do you have beer? I’m afraid I’m not much of a liquor fan. I developed a taste for beer in university and now that’s all I drink.”

  At GM’s sharp jerk of her head backwards, Gwen spoke again, her words tumbling all over themselves. “I mean, that’s not all I drink. I drink water and pop and well—”

  GM laughed lightly. “I know what you meant, dear.” She turned to Lawrence. “We have beer in the fridge, don’t we?”

  “Yes, of course.” He walked out of the room.

  GM patted the seat on the sofa beside her. “Please sit down, Gwen,” She held her glass out to me. “Would you mind topping me up, dear?” As I poured a drink for myself and GM, she continued, “Keira tells me you studied to be a physicist?”

  “Yes. I was doing graduate work when my dad became ill. To be honest, I actually like what I’m doing now. My evenings and weekends are my own, with no papers to write or any lab work. I mean, aside from taking care of Dad.”

  “Your father is ill?”

  Handing GM her fresh drink, I sat in the armchair beside them. I was positive GM knew everything about Gwen’s dad, and watched the interplay between them.

  Gwen nodded. “Yes. He’s had MS for years, but when my mother passed away three years ago he had a terrible episode. He was hospitalized for a month. When he was released, I had already suspended my studies and had gotten on full time with the post office.”

  “Oh my poor dear.” GM reached out and stroked Gwen’s shoulder. She turned to me and arched an eyebrow. “How sad, Keira,” she said aloud. ‘This could be a problem for you dear’ echoed in my head.

  “He didn’t seem too ill when I saw him,” I said.

  “I know,” said Gwen. “The attacks—they call them relapses—come out of nowhere. Sometimes he just gets worn down, but he’s collapsed a couple of times.”

  Lawrence came in and passed her a pilsner glass filled with beer. She took it and took a deep sip while he took a seat.

  “That must be hard on you, dear. When I was your age, I liked to travel... see the world. But I suppose, for you...” GM’s voice trailed off but she watched Gwen closely.

  Gwen sat primly on the sofa, her long legs folded together to the side. “Oh, I manage to get away every now and then. Just last year I went to the States on a sightseeing tour of Civil War mansions. My brother Sean stays with Dad.”

  I glanced at Lawrence and GM. Gwen wasn’t as tied to her routine as they’d thought. “Old houses? You would pass up the beach to see a bunch of old houses?”

  Gwen snorted. “Seen one beach, you’ve seen ‘em all as far as I’m concerned.” She looked around the living room. “Older homes have… character.” She looked to GM and continued. “Like this house. It’s almost as big as some of the plantation homes I visited, you know. I’ll bet there are stories that these walls could tell us if they could speak.”

  The two of them gazed at each other silently for a moment. Finally, GM smiled sweetly. “What sort of stories do you suppose, dear?”

  Gwen glanced over to me and back at GM before speaking. “Well, for one thing, did you know its history when you bought it, Mrs. York?” Without waiting for an answer she continued, “Did you know it once harbored a rumrunner? The guy’s body was found in the cellar. The police never knew if his death was suicide or if he was murdered.”

  GM’s smile dropped like a stone when she looked across at Gwen. “I’ve come to know of that. You are a student of local history, then? I know the house has a reputation for being a bit... odd.”

  “This house is haunted isn’t it, Mrs. York?”

  I saw Lawrence stiffen. GM didn’t bat an eye. “What an interesting question.”

  “You didn’t answer it, ma’am.” Whoaaa… Gwen wasn’t backing off a whit.

  “No, I didn’t.” GM smiled sweetly again. “The answer is yes.”

  ***

  Her reply hung in the air for a moment.

  Gwen tilted her head and nodded slightly. “Thank you, Mrs. York. I appreciate your honesty.” She looked over to me and back at GM. “Keira tells me it’s not as haunted as it had been.”

  GM nodded. “Yes, that’s true. Molly and Sam have moved on.” She leaned her head in to Gwen slightly. “The ironic part is that the man you just described who died here is still around.”

  “Really?” Gwen’s eyes lit up and she looked around the room. “Right now? He’s here? Can you see him?” She put her hand on GM’s forearm. “Could I see him?”

  GM’s mouth turned downward. “No, dear, he’s not present at this time.”

  “How do you get him to show up? Could we use one of those Ouija boards or something to get him to show up?”

  GM’s eyes flashed. “Absolutely not! That is a dangerous instrument!”

  “Whoa… take it easy, GM, she’s just asking a question,” I said.

  GM huffed a sigh. “Excuse me for my outburst, Gwen.” She pursed her lips for a moment. “As far as the spirit that’s still here, and encountering him… even if he was here right now, you wouldn’t be able to see him anyway.” She gestured toward me. “Myself and my granddaughter have that gift, yes; but—”

  Lawrence cut her off. “But it’s a rare gift, Gwen. I’ve never seen any of the spirits in all the years I’ve been with Mrs. York.” He gave a mild laugh. “I’ve seen their handiwork, but I’ve never seen them.”

  “Handiwork?”

  He nodded. “If they get upset, they are able to move thing
s.”

  “Like in the movies? Things flying around? Stuff like that?”

  “Yes. And the chill in the room…”

  “Don’t forget the smells, Lawrence,” GM piped in. She grimaced. “Sometimes they’ve been known to have disgusting smells.”

  Eyes wide, Gwen stared at each of us in turn. “You’re telling me the truth.”

  “Afraid so,” I said.

  “And yet,” GM added, “this doesn’t seem to frighten you. Why is that?” She looked at Gwen with frank curiosity.

  “Because I find it fascinating. Did you know in physics, there’s a branch of it which is trying to figure out the relationship between consciousness and matter?” She held up her hand. “Now these researchers are kind of out there, but they’re asking some hard science questions about the nature of the mind, the body…” Her voice faded.

  “And the soul,” I said.

  Gwen nodded, pensively. “And the soul, yes.” She looked up at me. “You’ve seen my mother’s soul at my house, right?” When I nodded in reply, her eyes filmed with tears. “Can you communicate with her? Can you say something to her for me?”

  “I don’t know, to be honest,” I said. I looked over to GM; this wasn’t anything we’ve talked about. “Can we, GM?”

  “Communicate with the dead? Be a medium between the dead and the living?” She shook her head. “No. That’s not what we’re supposed to do, Keira.” She looked to Gwen. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m unable to be a messenger between those who have died and those of us still on this level of existence.”

  “Why?” she asked, her voice rising. “It would give such comfort to those of us left behind!”

  “My work is of a different nature.”

  “And what is your work?”

  GM sighed. “We’ll discuss that another time, dear.”

  Before Gwen could push the issue, Lawrence stepped forward. “Gwen, I’d love to give you a tour of this house. Would you care to join me?”

  Gwen’s lips became a thin line. “I’ll hold you to that, Mrs. York. I’d love to know just what your ‘work’ is.” She stood.

  Lawrence held out the crook of his arm and she took it. “Let’s start with the top floor,” he said. “I’ll tell you the stories of Molly and Sam.” They left the room and headed for the hallway.

  I turned to GM. “Well, what do you think?”

  “Her concern for her father will be an issue, Keira. And what will she think when she learns of just what your duties are?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You protect The Veil, and that’s what you want me to do. So what?”

  She shook her head in disappointment. “And just how do we maintain the integrity of The Veil?”

  “By helping spirits move on.” I stopped and it hit me. “Oh shit.”

  “Indeed.”

  I looked toward the staircase where Gwen and Lawrence had ascended and lowered my voice, “Spirits like Gwen’s mother.”

  GM nodded. “And how do you think she would feel about that? Losing her mother all over again?”

  Damn, she was right. I sat up straight in my chair. “Hey, I didn’t say I was taking the job, GM, I was just thinking if you thought she would be a good replacement for Lawrence, should I take the job.”

  She leaned over to me. “You’re going to have to make that decision quite soon, dear. As far as Gwen is concerned, I’d rather hear Lawrence’s opinion before rendering my own judgment.

  I sat back in my chair. Why did she say I’d have to make up my mind soon?

  ***

  After her tour of the house, the four of us all agreed that further discussions of the supernatural could wait for another time.

  That’s not to say that the dinner wasn’t a smashing success. We had a wonderful evening together; the conversation sparkled. We discussed religion and politics roundly; it got pretty lively at times, especially when Gwen went on a tangent about Wall Street investors. But the cool thing was that each time it started getting heated, Lawrence—who woulda thunk?—defused the situation with a witty bon mot which made the rest of us start laughing.

  After dessert and coffee, Gwen stood, thanked us for a wonderful evening, and got ready to leave. I saw her out.

  In the foyer, I put my hand on her arm. “I hope you can keep this all confidential, Gwen.”

  She looked at me with wide-eyed innocence. “What? That your grandmother loves vodka gimlets in the evening?”

  “Very funny.”

  “Well… I am sorely tempted to contact the National Enquirer with this story, for sure. A grandmother/granddaughter tag team of ghost hunters living with their Old Man Friday in a hundred-and-forty-year-old mansion.” She tilted her head at me. “Think they’d pay me for the tip?”

  My face fell. “You’re kidding. Right?”

  She slapped my back. “Of course, silly. I’d be the one who would look Looney tunes.” She looked over my shoulder toward the living room. “What I don’t understand is just what the old gal does with that gift you two share.” She turned back to me. “I mean, you could help a lot of grieving people by communicating with them you know.”

  I crossed my arms. “People like you, you mean.” Boy was I stupid telling her I saw her mother’s spirit.

  “Yeah, people like me!” Her eyes filmed again. “Just to be able to…”

  “Tell her you love her? That you and your dad miss her?”

  “Yes!”

  I reached out for her. “Gwen… she knows that. And from the look on her face, she loves and misses you guys too.”

  “It’s not fair. I’m her flesh and blood, and I can’t see her, but you can.” She looked at the open door. “I’m heading home. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow?”

  “Okay. Maybe we’ll get an actual swim in, huh?” I knew she was planning on working on me more about communicating with her mother. And to be honest, I didn’t have a problem with it. When I put my hand on her, the black and bleak sorrow in her was almost overwhelming. I wasn’t going to stand idly by if there was anything I could do to ease such pain. No matter what GM would think of that.

  We said our goodbyes and I closed the door behind her.

  I raced into the living room where Lawrence and GM were sharing a nightcap. How did they do it? After downing a bottle of wine with dinner, cocktails before and still they were fine with a glass of brandy?

  I took a seat across from them on the sofa. “Well?” My gaze was firmly on Lawrence.

  He glanced at GM and then smiled looking at me. “Gwen is a lovely girl. She’s smart. She’s able to study hard, so she has the discipline to learn.”

  My fingers fisted my hair at each side of my head. There it was again... the interminable but. “Okay, I surrender; what’s the problem?”

  “I don’t think she’ll abandon her responsibilities to her father. You and she are friends but the emotional tie isn’t there.” He dropped his head. “I genuinely like her, Keira, but I’m unable to see how it could work.”

  GM reached over and patted his hand. “I trust your judgment in this, dear. You may not have my abilities to the extent which I do, but still, you know the role and what it entails. If you have doubts...” she turned to look sadly at me, “...then it’s probably best to move on right now. Maybe you’ll be on your own like I was for a few years before I met Lawrence.”

  My stomach dropped to the floor. For a moment I sat there silently, wondering at the depth of disappointment I was feeling. In one respect, they were right. I didn’t know Gwen very well at all... but then why was I feeling this sense of loss?

  It made no sense at all, and I went to bed with a heavy heart.

  TWENTY THREE

  I OPENED MY EYES THE NEXT MORNING FEELING… well, sad. I know it’s stupid—I had only met Gwen a few days ago, and last night was only the fifth time we were together. But there it was. If that vision I had by her pool of us in the future at an airport was wrong, then how could I trust any of my so-called gifts? On the other hand, her
ties to her father… how could I presume to come between them? So yeah, when I headed down for breakfast I was sad and confused.

  Seeing my expression as I entered the sunroom, GM tried to be consoling. “Keira. You will meet the right person to help you.”

  “Easy for you to say, GM,” I said as I took my usual seat. “You’ve had Lawrence by your side for years and years.”

  “Yes, but I did go through a period where I was on my own.” She looked sharply back at me. “What I’m trying to tell you is to be strong in and of yourself. You have a gift, and you have an important role to fulfill. So get over it and move on, young lady.”

  Oh man, she went from consoling to insistent in a heartbeat. “Thanks for all the sympathy.”

  She huffed. “You want sympathy? For not upsetting your friend’s life? A friend you hardly know?”

  “There’s a connection between us.” I could feel my back getting up.

  She snorted. “I disagree. You expect this woman to abandon her father to help you with your work?”

  “Gwen wouldn’t be abandoning him! We could hire someone to look after him! What’s the big deal?”

  “Keira, I don’t want you rushing into something and making a mistake. In the long run it can cost you dearly.”

  I huffed out a breath. “Oh yeah? Once again, that’s pretty easy for you to say.”

  That really got to her. She sat up straight, blue fire in her eyes. “You silly girl. When it comes to rushing into something with the wrong person, I certainly know what those costs can be.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She rapped the tip of her cane on the floor. “Let me tell you, being an unwed mother in the late nineteen sixties was no picnic, Keira.” Her lips made a thin line. “No matter how much wealth one had, one was always… judged. I was under considerable pressure when I learned I was pregnant.” Her mouth turned downward. “My doctor advocated giving the baby up for adoption.” She sighed. “But worse than that, Susan’s father wanted me to have an abortion.” She stared at her teacup, turning it on the saucer. “That was the last straw between us.”

  I pushed my half-eaten plate of fruit and yogurt away. “Which brings up my grandfather. You told me you had no idea who he is! I found that hard to believe when you told me that. At least you’re being honest now!” If she was going to be so insistent with regards to Gwen, I was going to get a little of my own back at her.