Dreams of Idlewood Page 8
I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask the question we were all dying to ask. “Do you see anything? Anyone? Do you see Rachel?”
With a quick sympathetic glance, Ashland shook his head. “No, that’s the thing. I see nothing. Nothing at all. Every other time I’ve been here, this place has teemed with echoes. That’s what I feel right before I see a ghost. But now there are no echoes here. No ghosts. It’s as if they are hiding.”
Sabrina gasped and said, “But from what?” Almost simultaneously everyone cast a suspicious eye on Angus.
Carrie Jo sprang to her feet. “Like heck you’re going by yourself. I won’t go inside, but I’ll at least walk with you down there. And I had a dream about the garconniere. Percy Ferguson’s wife was trapped there for a while, in the cellar. That’s it! She might be in the cellar!”
“Sorry, Carrie Jo, but Henri and I looked down there. Didn’t see her.”
“I’m going,” she said with a determined voice, her curly ponytail bobbing in defiance.
“No, babe. I’ve got to do this alone.”
She wanted to argue with him again, but Ashland was up and walking toward the door.
Henri dug in the green nylon bag he’d brought in with him. He pulled out a small piece of plastic and flipped a switch, and a red light came on. “Hey, Ash. Take this with you. It’s an EMF detector. It might help you spot whatever you’re after.”
“What does it do?” the handsome young man asked his friend as he accepted the black box. He fiddled with the knob for a second.
“You hold it out like this.” He demonstrated by waving the small box with his hand, pointing the little antenna to different areas of the room. “It measures electromagnetic fields. If you notice any fluctuations, it might be an indicator that there’s an energy burst around you. That could indicate that a spirit or entity is nearby.”
“Got it. Thanks, Henri. Be back in a couple of minutes.”
I watched him disappear through the doorway. I hoped he was right.
Chapter Nine – Ashland
The tower apartment didn’t appear too intimidating from the top of the hill, as it was only two stories high. But once I walked down the stone stairs, that perspective changed. The garconniere, a fancy name for a 19th-century bachelor pad, was a strange thing to see emerging out of the otherwise scenic landscape. What architect thought this would be the perfect place for a tower? Were there other towers on the property back in those days? We’d probably never know. Perhaps in Old Mobile, it seemed a romantic idea to have a young man dwell in a tower, like a chivalrous knight. Again, how would we ever know? Unless my wife stepped back into the past there in her dreams. Carrie Jo could do that, if she cared to.
And how was I supposed to sleep next to her again knowing that at any time she could see the truth about me? How had she not yet seen my past crime? I couldn’t understand it, except maybe grace from above. The guilt weighed on me afresh today, thanks in part to my earlier meeting.
Just past the building was a clump of forbidding trees and beyond them the sunken gardens, resting in perpetual melancholy. Yet these all seemed lively places compared to the building that stood before me. It was as if the garconniere were a lone emblem of the past, forgotten and empty—angry that it had been left behind. It didn’t fit here now. It was an empty hull, a dead husk of whatever it had been. Just as all the former tenants in the place were dead husks, buried in deep holes in the ground or laid out in mausoleums until even their bones turned to dust.
But it wasn’t truly empty. Not by a long shot.
With every step I took, the anxiety skyrocketed. My imagination helped it along as it ran wild; I believed completely that invisible eyes were watching me, counting my every step, every beat of my heart. To say I was afraid would be an understatement, but I had to try to find our friend. If my examination turned up anything, gave us any clues to Rachel’s whereabouts, it would be worth the terror I felt right now. She was just a kid who happened to get mixed up in our strange world. We could not, would not, abandon her to whatever forces were at work here.
My hands felt sweaty, and I shoved Henri’s black box into my pocket. Did I really need that thing? I was a ghost detector—no batteries required.
As much as I would have preferred to “sneak up” on whatever was in the tower, the thick floor of crunchy magnolia leaves and cast-off seed pods under my feet gave my position away. I might as well have walked up to the door banging a drum or clanging a bell. But as I’d discovered, my supernatural ability did that anyway.
When I was a kid I would never have done this. No matter how many times my mother pleaded with me. And she knew what I could do long before I could appreciate it.
“Please, Ashland. Open your eyes and look for Mother.”
I hated when she’d asked me to search for ghosts, which was far too often in those last years; especially when we hung out in the gardens at Seven Sisters. I never wanted to see another thing after those weird séances and visits from greedy psychics. But here I was, the man of the house now, a protective father and loving husband, doing exactly that. Looking for ghosts. I felt beads of sweat pop out on my forehead, and it wasn’t even remotely hot out here.
Yes, I had to do this. Maybe I’d get lucky and the ghost, or whatever hung out here, would just kill me. It seemed better than the alternative, for I faced an impossible situation. I was backed into a corner now, thanks to Jeremy and Libby. Carrie Jo had been right all along. I should never have agreed to have lunch with him today. I had no idea that a trap was being set for me.
Libby was a smart girl. Maybe smart wasn’t the right word. Crafty, that was it. She had the evidence she needed now; she could easily convict me of my crimes, at least to my wife. Now I had to pay up or lose the best thing that ever happened to me, both of them. I couldn’t imagine my life without Carrie Jo and Baby Boy. That’s really what this was all about; why I was here challenging this being. Some would call it living dangerously. The truth was I’d rather die than face the storm that was headed my way.
“All right, you bastard,” I shouted to the building as I stood on the porch. Feeling more anger than confidence, I opened the door and stepped inside. It was colder inside than outside. It was not a big space, but it was large enough to entertain a small group of friends, or whatever mischief a bachelor could muster.
Words to live by, right, ol’ boy?
What? Those weren’t my thoughts! Yes, there was “someone” here, although they remained hidden from view. The big circular room had a few windows, but they were pretty high off the ground. Obviously the Fergusons didn’t want anyone peeping in during those wild parties, and I knew by the energy in the room that some “wild” things had indeed occurred here. And now, as though the sun were conspiring against us in favor of the Presence, it appeared much darker outside than it should be. Perhaps it was only the tower? Was there a demonic cloud hanging over the place?
There was just enough light now to cast an amber glow in the room, and I could see streams of dust motes very clearly. They were microscopic galaxies spinning unseen, except by me and by the other being upstairs.
“Rachel!” I called futilely into the empty room. I heard nothing except the shrill beep of the EMF detector in my pocket. I just about jumped out of my skin. I’d forgotten all about the gadget and fumbled to retrieve it while it pelted my ears with another round of alarms. The digital display showed a spinning arrow and fluctuating numbers. I had no idea what any of it meant. I flipped it around a few times looking for an off switch and finally found a slide power button along the side. I turned the thing off with shaking fingers and put it back in my pocket. Breathing a sigh of relief to quiet my breathing, I said in an even, patient voice, “I know you’re here. What do you want? Where is my friend?” I took a deep breath and added, “I want to see you. Why are you hiding?”
I heard a crashing sound coming from upstairs like a chair being kicked over. Apparently this thing had a short temper and didn’t mind throwing a ta
ntrum. I stood my ground, refusing to run away like that child my mother constantly baited to look for ghosts. She’d be so proud now.
“Rachel! Where are you?” No answer came except the emergence of a small shadow, the size of Baby Boy’s favorite ball. It bounced down the first couple of wooden stairs in a playful manner and then paused as if it wasn’t sure what to do with me, the intruder. Nope, this thing was anything but playful. At least it wasn’t Rachel’s spirit. This thing was not warm or kind or any of the things she was.
She was still alive!
I stared at the ball, looking for any clue as to who I was dealing with here. I saw nothing but darkness. As the ball swirled in on itself, it expanded and grew quickly to double its size. I stared harder, but it was impossible to see any human-like features. Suddenly the shadow zipped down the stairs, flinging itself against the wall next to the largest window. It flattened and slid up the beams of the roof. The curtains fluttered and settled quietly. It did not move an inch, staying where it was as if to convince me that I could not see it. That it belonged there. It was just a shadow after all.
But I did see it and refused to play along.
“Rachel!” I called again. Nothing else happened; the shadow did not budge, but I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I had to check upstairs, just in case she was up there. That was where the thing had come from. It made sense she would be upstairs.
I silently counted to three and on three, I ran across the room and up the stairs. “Rachel!” I called again, half-worried that the ball might follow me. It didn’t have to. It was here in the room, looming in front of me, taller and even blacker than it had been before. I swallowed as the murky space began taking shape, and it was the shape of a man I did not recognize.
“I see you…” I whispered to it.
And I see you, Michael…but you’ll never have her.
I didn’t see the point of talking aloud again. I could hear the voice in my mind; I assumed he could hear me too.
I am not Michael. I want my friend back! Where is my friend? Where is Rachel?
Hissing, he said, Leave this place, Michael. You will not have her.
Suddenly a pale face appeared in the center of the dark mist; he had faded, golden hair and pale hands that were reaching toward me. His eyes widened with hatred, so much hatred that they appeared as two burned-out pits with no vestiges of human warmth. Hands, inhumanly long, stretched toward me, and I knew what he meant to do. He was going to push me down the stairs! Or maybe he intended to steal the life from my body by touching me.
He was only a few inches from me now when suddenly the EMF box in my pocket started screaming again. The hands drew back and almost immediately, the ghost fell in on himself, returning to a ball and fading away all in a matter of seconds. I turned off the box again and waited to hear Rachel’s voice. She had to be here!
The entity had left and taken the cold with him. The warmth returned to my hands first, and I knew that for the moment I would not get my wish. He would not kill me. I had lived to deal with life another day.
And then I heard her voice, softly, under my feet. “Ashland! Help me! Oh God, help me! I’m here! Please don’t leave me here! Help me!”
Rachel was in the floor! I grabbed my phone out of my other pocket and told Carrie Jo that I heard Rachel’s voice. She and the rest of the group ran down the hill to the tower, and soon the upstairs room was full of people, tapping on boards and looking for secret doors.
Jan began to cry when she heard Rachel’s voice, but we were still no closer to finding her. Angus finally said, “Here! Under the bed, there is a false floor!” The men shoved the heavy oak bed out of the way and sure enough, there was a false floor and a trap door hidden under the bed. Dragging the bed to the side, we opened the trap door and found Rachel crumpled in a ball. Angus scooped her up in his arms and cried as she held him tight. “I’m okay, I’m okay. Please get me home. I have to go home, Angus.”
“Yes, Rachel. I’ll take you home. I swear I will.” Like he was carrying the most precious cargo he’d ever carried, Angus stepped carefully down the stairs and right out the front door with her. Jan was not two steps behind him, and her face said it all. That girl was her life.
Nothing tried to stop him or any of us. I used my spiritual feelers to test the place again, and now there was nothing, it was gone. For some reason, the EMF had frightened it away. I’d have to ask Henri if he’d ever experienced that before. Carrie Jo hugged me and kissed my cheek. I squeezed her and wanted to confess my heart right then and there, but I didn’t.
Then Jan hugged me, and I did not stop her although I was in danger of breaking into tears at any moment myself. “Thank you, Ashland. You are a man of honor. I am so grateful to you.” Before she released me she whispered in my ear, “Tell her. She’ll understand. She’ll know what to do.”
Shocked into silence, I patted her back and didn’t look at her. We left the place, all of us tired and ready to go home. As I was climbing into the car, Sabrina approached Carrie Jo. She thrust a keychain into her hands, squatted beside our car and said to her, “This belongs to Rachel. You’ve probably seen it before. Please use this to find out what happened to her, CJ. I have to know. I have to know what to do to stop it from happening again. I don’t have the gift anymore, and I can’t protect her. Please help me protect my daughter.”
My wife nodded seriously and shut the door. I knew what that meant. She’d be dreaming tonight. As long as she didn’t dream about me, everything would be fine.
But for how long?
Chapter Ten – Carrie Jo
How Rachel got trapped under the floor was a question we would have to ask another day. If a living human was guilty, no doubt the police would be involved, but I wasn’t sure that was the case yet. Ashland didn’t want to tell me about what he saw, what had happened at the house before we rushed in. But he did agree with me about the police. “She’s like a kid sister to us all. We’re not going to allow her to be victimized by some crazy person. I mean, sometimes the living work with the dead! How many times have we seen that? Like I said, we just don’t know yet. I’ll make some calls, but I don’t think I have as many friends on the police force as I used to. Except that guy I went to school with, and he’s just a beat cop. Maybe that Detective Simmons, you know, the one with the red hair who likes you so much? Perhaps she’d be willing to get to the bottom of it?”
“Simmons? Good luck. Besides, I don’t think she’s in Mobile anymore, is she? She didn’t show up at our last encounter with the cops. Wait…Simmons…Simmons. That reminds me, Austin Simmons came by to see you today. He left his business card at the house. Do you think they could be related?”
“Are you talking about the weird guy who played the piano at the Idlewood presentation?”
“You didn’t notice anything else unusual about him?”
“Um, no? Did he have six fingers? Is that why he played like an expert?”
“He looked like David Garrett! Are you blind? Do you have any idea what that’s about?”
“Can’t think why he’d want to see me; it’s you he followed around all night.”
“Hardly all night.”
His comment stung and I got the impression it was meant to, but I refused to get into an argument with him. He glanced off to his left as he made the turn onto our street. Ashland was doing a remarkable job at hiding his feelings from me. He was in his protective shell, and I was too tired to pull him out of himself. If he got ready to talk, he would; otherwise he could sulk over whatever it was that bothered him. I had a mission, a private mission to dream about Rachel. I felt for the stuffed frog keychain in my pocket. I’d been caught off guard by the request, but I had agreed so I would certainly do it. No arguing there. I loved the girl. “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to turn in early. I’ve got to do something.”
“Just say it, Carrie Jo. You have to dream. And you are dreaming to help Rachel. No sense in being vague. Just say it and do it.”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s…nothing.”
“Fine, it’s nothing.” He hadn’t even really stopped the Jeep before I was jumping out. I couldn’t stand to be around him when he was like this. It was awful. I left him behind and walked inside the house. Momma hadn’t locked the front door again. I’d have to remind her about that. Again. After her recent accident she seemed more forgetful than ever. Tonight, she’d fallen asleep on the couch with the baby in her arms. I quietly picked up the toys and covered her with a blanket.
I reached for the baby, but she mumbled, “No, let me hold him a little while longer, Carrie Jo. We’re okay.”
“All right. I’m going upstairs to get a nap myself.”
“Okay.”
The baby stirred at the sound of my voice, and I quickly exited the room. I planned to hold Rachel’s keychain when I fell asleep. I’d dreamed about the living before, so I knew it worked, but it had been a long time since I’d tried.
Luckily, Ashland came in quietly and went straight to his office. Good! Let him go sulk himself silly. He’s a hero, if he’d just know it!
I settled down in the downstairs guest room, close enough to hear Baby Boy if he started crying, and cuddled up with the soft white down comforter. But he stayed quiet, and soon I got to work.
Rachel, show me what happened. Let me see. See? I have your keychain. I’m here to help. Please let me help you.
I felt my eyes get heavy and I lingered in the in-between, the place in between asleep and awake. I could sense the dream approaching; the honey hues of the dream surrounded me. Then I was there, and this time my heart was racing and I was feeling love, great love. I kept my eyes closed until I was sure I’d crossed over, and then I opened them.