A Guilty Ghost Surprised (An Indigo Eady Paranormal Cozy Mystery series) (22 page)

I nodded. “But that’s not all. Bryan’s here. In the house,” I said.

His eyes widened.

I hurried to explain. “His spirit is here. For the bear, I think. It’s been three years – for us anyway. He misses the bear and you and Simon.”

He ran his fingers through his mussed-up hair. “You,” he began, and then tried again. “Do you…see spirits?”

I nodded.

“I thought so,” he said. “My mother did – your grandmother.”

“And my mother and grandmother,” I added.

“Can you speak to him for me? For us?” he added, looking over at Simon.

“Yes – and I think we can send him back now.” I led the way down the hall to the living room, where muted television voices entertained an apparently empty room. I finally taught Bryan to watch the telly at a lower volume.

Franny and Bryan sat on the sofa watching television. Other spirits gathered around to watch the reunion unfold. When Bryan glanced our way, his eyes lit up like sparklers. He flung chubby arms around Uncle Richard’s legs. Uncle Richard blinked wide-eyed, like an owl.  

“Is it him?” he asked.

I nodded.

Uncle Richard knelt down. “Bryan?”

Bryan patted his dad’s face with chubby hands and nodded.

“I love you, Bryan. I love you, son. And I’m sorry. I should have picked your brother up from football practice. It should have been me.” Tears rolled down his face. “I should have been the one to die. Not you and your mum.”

Bryan shook his head. “No, me!” He turned around and fluttered his wings, the fake ones that he loved, because it made him feel like an angel.

“Bryan says, ‘no’ Uncle Richard. He was meant to go. Th-they gave him angel wings.”

The raw grief on his face broke my heart. I prayed I wouldn’t start bawling.

Simon stepped forward, and said in a choked voice, “No. It’s my fault. If they hadn’t come to pick me up, they’d still be alive.”

“No,” said a soft voice, coming from a filmy figure standing behind Bryan. “No one was at fault. It was our time. More than that, I can’t explain.”

“Aunt Amanda,” I breathed. Looking young and beautiful, and glowing with good health.

“What?” Uncle Richard said. “Amanda is here?”

“Mum?” said Simon. “Is mum here?”

“Yay, Mummy!” squealed Bryan, jumping up and down, ecstatic to have his whole family together again.

“Yes,” I said, not taking my eyes off her. I sooo did not see that coming.

“Hello Indigo,” she said.

“H-hello,” I said.

Aunt Amanda beamed at Simon and his dad. “All my boys together. But we shouldn’t be here. Bryan shouldn’t have come.” She looked at him sternly, but he only giggled.

“I want Daddy and Simon and Simon,” he said, petulantly, then plugged his mouth with a thumb.

Aunt Amanda sighed and smiled. “Me too. But not now, not yet.” She walked over to Simon and kissed his cheek. Simon lifted his hand to cover the feather-light touch on his skin.

Aunt Amanda then walked over to Uncle Richard and stroked the side of his face. “Tell him – tell them both – I love them, and I’ll always be with them. But we can’t be together right now. We must go.”

“She loves you, both of you,” I said, “but they can’t be here, not right now.”

“Tell her – tell her we love her, too,” said Uncle Richard, drawing Simon to his side.

“We love both of you,” said Simon through a tear-choked voice.

Aunt Amanda smiled and took Bryan by the hand. They faded from my sight.

Sniffing came from the sofa. Franny dabbed a tissue to her nose. Tears streamed down her face. “Th-that is the s-saddest thing I ever saw.” The spirits talked among themselves. They patted Franny on the shoulder before disappearing. She, too, faded away.

“They’re gone,” I said.

“What, already?” Simon’s amber eyes looked big in his face against his pasty skin. “Again?” His voice cracked and the tears he held in check dripped down his cheeks.

Uncle Richard grabbed him in a bear hug and they clung to each other, both crying. I shed a few tears myself. For both of them. For Badger and Riley. For Cappy. Even for myself. Sometimes the heartaches in life seemed too much. Why were some called to heaven while others not? Why did God want me to speak with those stuck in between worlds? Would this always be my life? Too many questions plagued me. It wouldn’t do to dwell on questions that could never be answered.

I left Uncle Richard and Simon alone and headed up to my bedroom. They had a lot to talk about.

When I opened the door to my room, the empty rocking chair moved back and forth. Good. I didn’t feel like talking to Franny right then. I sat on my bed and removed my trainers. I pulled sweats from my trunk and laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Pop!

I jumped slightly. Any chance of being alone just flew out the window.

“There you are, dear,” said Franny. She held something colorful in her arms. “I hoped you’d come back here.”

“Not now, Franny. Please. I’m rather tired at the moment.” Whatever energy I had went out the window with my hopes of being alone. Like the last case, stress took a mighty toll. I rolled over and faced the wall.

“I worked ever so hard on it. Now come on. Checker it out.”

I snorted. Franny’s command of modern slang could use some much needed practice. “You mean
‘check’
it out,” I corrected. I turned back and sat up. I knew from experience that Franny wouldn’t go until she had her say. I didn’t bother to hide my sigh. “What is it, Franny?”

“It’s this.” She shook out the mound of color--the scarf she’d been knitting for me. I’d forgotten about it.

I gasped. The garment was beautiful. It radiated every color in God’s rainbow. Red, blue, green, lavender, fuchsia. Like the pot of gold at the end, only better. “Franny,” I whispered. “I-it’s gorgeous.” I stood up.

Franny beamed. “I knew it would cheer you up. Something colorful to remind you that life isn’t always gray and shadowy.”

Our eyes met, hers every bit as blue as mine. I hadn’t realized she saw so much, knew so much of what I experienced. But of course, she did. Although we dwelt in different dimensions, we lived on the edges of the dividing line.

Franny held the scarf out to me.

I reached for it.

The air around us glowed and crackled and zapped as the garment crossed from her dimension to mine. It arrived in one piece, even more beautiful on my side. I wrapped it around my neck and turned to look in the vanity mirror. It had a special iridescent quality, indeed. One like I’d never seen before. I turned back to Franny. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

“Thank you, Franny. I will always treasure it. Truly.”

She glowed happily, then faded out.

About the Author

Gwen Gardner is a native Californian living in sunny San Diego, where her love of reading and writing led to a BA in English literature. Life is now complete with her husband, two dogs and a daily call from her daughter.

Since ghosts feature prominently in her young adult
Indigo Eady Paranormal “Cozy” Mystery
series, she has a secret desire to meet one face to face - but will run screaming for the hills if she ever does. Gwen adores travel and experiencing the cultures and foods of different countries. She is always up for an adventure and anything involving chocolate - not necessarily in that order.

Acknowledgements

So many people helped me through the process of this book. First and always, to my husband, Allan Gardner. You supported me through many sojourns into my writing cave. When I came out blinking, you welcomed me back and helped me prepare for the next leg of the journey. You listened. You encouraged. You gave me chocolate and Jameson. I love you.

To my family and friends who offered support, inquired with genuine interest and commented on this adventure of mine--I love and appreciate you all: Mildred Brannon, Amber Gardner and John Crosser, Donna and Jim Richardson, Cindy and Kirk Chapman, Sue and Aram Kargodorian, Alyssa and Mark Ward, Chris Robbins, Mark and Michelle Baxter, Jayme Chapman, Angie Carrillo, Caroline Esquivel, Linda Gomez, Kelli Babb.

To my awesome editor, critique partner, and friend, Angela Brown. You totally carried me on this one. Your insight on what works is spot-on. Your lessons on active vs passive writing will eventually sink in. Whatever success this book achieves is yours, too. Thanks for all the times you made me laugh out loud.

To my proofreader Michelle Baxter. I heartily approve of your red pen, red solo cup method. Now all you need is chocolate.

To my gang at Untethered Realms. You guys totally rock.

And to my buds at YA Ninjas, you’re rock stars, too.

To my illustrator,
Corona Zschusschen
. You continually amaze me with your talent. Promise me when other authors discover you that you’ll still design my book covers.

As always, any mistakes found within these pages are mine.

Author’s Note

I hope you enjoyed
A Guilty Ghost Surprised
. While it is obviously a work of fiction, the character of the Olde English Bulldog, Chance, is based on my daughter’s real life dog, also named Chance. From time to time, I’ll mix and match people that I know and use them in my books. But Chance’s character is all him. He loves to play and is very protective. And yes, he slobbers, so it made him perfect for the role I created in the book. My illustrator,
Corona Zschusschen
, completely caught his likeness on the book cover. Check out my granddog, the real Chance:

And his equally talented brother Diego:

And to be fair, because I love them all so much, here are my two fur babies. Koko, an expert swimmer (ignore those who say fat floats)…

And, Tuffy, master snow-diver…

AND…