Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) (33 page)

A little bell jingled as she entered Dream Time, and her olfactory senses were immediately assaulted by a variety of competing fragrances from patchouli to cinnamon, lavender, sage, and roses. A comfortable looking, middle-aged woman with thick brown hair beginning to gray at the temples looked up and smiled blandly at her.
 

“Let me know if I can help you find anything,” she said and went back to working through a stack of receipts and papers.

There were cases of jewelry, books on spiritualism, meditation, witchcraft, dozens of tarot decks and instruction books, and a whole table of crystals and semiprecious stones in wooden bowls. She took out her list and selected some polished obsidian stones to put on her windowsills as spirit barriers and some rose quartz stones to help keep her spiritual energies clean. Then she lingered over the jewelry case, thinking of gifts for Sarah and Kelly who had done so much for her. She relished thinking of each woman and selected something that spoke to her of each one. Regretfully, she passed up all the other colorful stones, the deep blue lapis and brighter turquoise in their silver settings attracting her attention, as did the bright green malachite and amber-brown tiger eye.

She got her new things home as quickly as she could since the day was heating up, and the groceries wouldn’t last much longer in a hot car. Oscar roused himself from a nap to join her in the kitchen, nibbling on a fresh can of kitty tuna while she ate chicken curry salad.

Marianne got out a bowl and poured the polished stones into it. The obsidian and pink quartz clicked together pleasantly as she placed the bowl in the sunlight on the windowsill to “charge” with solar energy.

The doorbell rang and, peeking through the side window, she could see Michael standing on the top step.

“Hi, Miss Singleton, how are you?” He said cheerfully and then leaned in conspiratorially, adding, “Do you still have the ghosts?” She let him in, and he looked around the room as if expecting to see them hovering somewhere.

She smiled and said, “As a matter of fact, no, I don’t!”

His face fell a little, and he asked, “What happened? Did you get them to leave?”

She gave him a condensed version, editing out the more terrifying parts of George’s apparition, and he listened raptly.

“Wish I could have seen it,” he said a little wistfully.

“How were the tryouts?” Marianne changed the subject.

He gave her a broad grin and said triumphantly, “I got in!”

“Excellent!” She congratulated him. “This calls for some ice cream—that is if it won’t ruin your dinner?”

He made a face in reply, and she amended, “I think your mom would kill me if I did, so just a small bowl then. We’ve got to celebrate!”

She dished out two bowls of minty chocolate goodness, and they adjourned to the living room. “I’m sorry I don’t have a lot of places to sit right now. Maybe we’d better sit outside.”

The stoop was in the shade of the house now, so the air was pleasantly warm but not scorching as they sat together eating their treat. Michael told her about the tryouts and some of the other guys on the team, including a girl who really wanted to play.

“I hope they let her in,” Marianne said.

“The coach did let her in. Chris is Tim Payne’s sister, and she’s been playing with the boys since she could dribble. She’s tougher than some of the guys on the team!” He said with admiration.

Marianne swallowed her bite and said, “I’m having a housewarming party on Friday and wanted you and your family to come if you can. It’s a potluck. I’ll provide ham or chicken or something, and your family can bring a side dish or dessert. Do you think you can come?”

He said he’d mention it, but Marianne remembered that he was a twelve-year-old boy and wasn’t necessarily trustworthy to relay all the details, so she resolved to stop by after dinner. They both heard the screen door bang next door and Michael’s mother, Maria, hollered “Mikey!” in a voice straight out of a Brooklyn neighborhood.

He leapt up off the cement step as if he’d been suddenly electrified and said, “Gotta go!” and bolted down the sidewalk for home. Marianne smiled, thinking, “You can take the woman out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the woman,” and took the dishes inside.

The first set of shelves seemed to be completely dry, so Marianne spent the next couple of hours unloading her books and knick-knacks one-handed and putting them away. She stood back to admire the effect. When she thought about how Mrs. Thomas was going to like her work so far, she remembered with a pang of guilt that she had not invited her to the party on Friday. Finding her cell phone and dialing her landlady suddenly became a priority.

Mrs. Thomas accepted the invitation and asked anxiously if the “neighbors” were bothering her. Marianne correctly interpreted this to mean Anne and George and told her that she had successfully asked them to move on, and the house was now ghost-free. Mrs. Thomas seemed relieved but perhaps a little sad as well. Marianne thought, that after a certain age, the loss of friends and acquaintances you’d known, even if they were reduced to lingering spirits, was still a loss.

Chapter 27

The day of the party Marianne woke to a gray sky. She’d slept reasonably well, in spite of dreams that continued to have a theme of pursuit but without the intensity of a full-on nightmare. Perhaps, she thought, if she consciously understood the message, it was enough to quiet the messenger.

Oscar’s customary whiskery greeting pulled her out of bed. She unwrapped the bandage on her left hand and carefully washed her wrist and palm. The black thread was stark against her red but healing skin. The middle and ring fingers were still a little sore, but she didn’t think she’d need the braces anymore. She was looking forward to getting the stitches out since her skin was getting very itchy. It had been five days already since the phantasmal fire, she realized with surprise as she smeared salve on it.

Yesterday evening she’d finished filling the bookshelves and dumped the cardboard in the spare room upstairs and made sure the Cavarelli’s had gotten the invitation. After making sure she had enough drinks in the fridge and that the house was as neat as it could be, she got into the “Flea” and backed out into the street. The drive to her mother’s took a little less than an hour, and she arrived mid-afternoon.

Her mother was a taller version of herself. Marianne had inherited the short genes from her father’s side of the family, and everyone else was taller. Her mother had the same dark, wavy hair now shot with gray but cut short so it curled attractively. She, too, was curvy and looked nice in her linen slacks and flowered blouse.

Marianne hugged her mom and stepped inside while she got her things together. Mom surprised her by asking her to carry the wrapped box in the front hall out to the car while she got a food offering from the kitchen. The box was bulky and rather on the heavy side. Marianne gingerly lugged it out and got it into the trunk, wondering what on earth her mom had gotten.

“What’s in the box, Mom?” She asked as they settled themselves and headed back out.

“Oh, just a little something for your new place.”

“You didn’t have to do that!” Marianne protested.

“I know, but I wanted to. Now, tell me about the huge bandage on your wrist and all the scabs on your legs! I’m thinking you didn’t tell me everything,” she scolded her daughter.

Marianne knew her mother cared about her deeply and had always been supportive of her, but it had been a long time since they’d shared confidences. She wasn’t sure how she would take news of her daughter moving into a haunted house. She decided to give it a try.

“Well, it’s a little complicated,” she temporized. “Grandma’s friend’s house turned out to be haunted by old acquaintances of hers. They were the first owners, and they returned to the house after they died.”

Her mother made an incredulous noise and then said, “Haunted? How is that related to your injuries?”

Marianne sighed. “I did some research at the local library…” and she told the rest of the story, dreams and all, culminating in the anniversary of the fire and her own escape.

Her mother shook her head, trying to understand. “You’re saying Anne thought there was a fire so she made you think there was a fire? And you broke a window to get out, and that’s how you got cut?” Disbelief underscored her mother’s voice.

Marianne nodded, her heart sinking. “That’s about it.”

Her mother frowned and said dubiously, “You’ve always had a vivid imagination. Are you sure it wasn’t just that?”

“Yeah, I’m sure I wouldn’t have crawled over broken glass just because of my imagination. It felt very real at the time.” Marianne tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, but it was hard.

Her mother was silent as she watched the scenery go by for a few miles and then said, “I’m not sure what to think about that.”

Marianne resigned herself to her mother’s skepticism and said quietly, “I know it sounds incredible. I wouldn’t have believed me either a few weeks ago.”

“Well, however it happened, at least you’re healing,” her mother finished, trying to sound upbeat.

Marianne lapsed into silence, feeling disheartened, wondering if Sarah got this reaction often. Maybe it had been too long since she and her mom had shared personal things. Maybe it wasn’t possible to get it back.
 

Some miles later her mother broke the silence. “So, who else is going to be at this party?”

Marianne let the subject go and gave her the guest list, explaining how she’d come to know each of them. She left out Sarah’s ability to see ghosts and simply called her and Kelly new friends. Her mood lightened as the distance passed and they approached Maple Hill.

Ruari patiently worked his way through the punch list SueAnn Talmadge had given him that morning. He smiled gamely in the face of Mrs. Grumman’s endless complaints about the water heater breaking yet again, even when she hinted it was because he hadn’t fixed it properly the first two times. He patiently explained that the equipment was getting old, and he would submit a request to replace it.

Underneath he chafed to be done and show up at 25 Violet Lane. There were two more calls he had to make before finishing the list for the day. He still had to go home and shower and change his clothes and pick up his housewarming gift. On his lunch break he had picked up a bag of potato chips and dip that were now sitting on the front seat of the truck. Knowing it was a weak offering for a potluck, he hoped his other gift would make up for it.

Leaving her mom in the kitchen, Marianne changed her clothes to a long light blue skirt and long sleeved pale green blouse to hide her injuries and deflect questions. Then she and her mother finished laying out the table in the dining room with a pretty lavender cloth bordered with pansies, a jar of flowers from the yard in the middle, and lots of space for food offerings. The chicken was cut and ready to serve, and pitchers of lemonade, water and iced tea were out. Oscar had tried to help himself to the chicken by jumping up on the table twice, but the two women had scolded him loudly and chased him off. Offended, he retreated to the front window to wash himself and pointedly ignored them.

Grandma Selene had given her friend, Lily Thomas, a ride, and they were the first to arrive. Marianne met her landlady for the first time as Mrs. Thomas worked her way laboriously up the front stairs with a walker. She was hunched with osteoporosis, white haired, and had a sweet, slightly vague smile. Grandma Selene was right behind her in case she fell. Marianne was struck by how differently people aged and was secretly glad her own grandmother was so vigorous still. It would be such a shock to see her grandmother struggling like her friend was.

“Hi, Mrs. Thomas, it’s so nice to meet you finally,” Marianne greeted her at the door.

Lily Thomas peered up from her permanent stoop and smiled, “It’s very nice to meet you, too. I brought a little something for the table.” She fumbled in the canvas bag hanging from the front of her walker and handed Marianne a cellophane wrapped package of paper napkins with a sprig of flowers on them.

Marianne smiled and accepted them. “They’re lovely and perfect. I’ll put them on the table right away.” Grandma Selene winked at her and nodded in approval.

“Hi, Grandma, I’m so glad you could come.” She hugged her.

“Me too. Here is a little something for the table,” and she handed Marianne a covered casserole dish that still felt warm. She greeted her daughter-in-law warmly with a peck on the cheek and then shepherded her friend toward a seat in the living room.

“No, no, I want to see the house first,” Mrs. Thomas said firmly.

“Mrs. Thomas, I’d love to show you around. Let me put these things on the table, and I’ll be right back.” Marianne asked her mother to see to getting the new things out and turned to her landlady.

Mrs. Thomas and Grandma Selene were looking around at the now tidy but still pink living room.
 

“Oh, this brings back memories,” Lily Thomas said with a fond smile. “I used to come here and hear Anne Rutherford play. She was so lovely and so talented. The piano was a Steinway baby grand right over there where you have your little upright. It was polished black and so elegant. She played so beautifully. You know she taught many children of Maple Hill how to play piano? A few of them went on to music school, too. It’s a shame Anne never finished.” She sighed. “George loved her in his own way, though he was pretty possessive of her. Do you still hear from them? I came and talked to them a few times in case they were still here.”

Selene and Marianne exchanged glances. “Yes, Lily,” Selene said gently, “It was Anne and George, and Marianne convinced them to move on.”

Marianne noticed her mother hovering in the doorway to the hall. She had clearly overheard the exchange and wore a startled, unsettled look on her face.

“Oh? That’s too bad.” Mrs. Thomas sounded wistful. “I would have liked to hear her play one more time. I guess it’s for the best, though.”

“Mrs. Thomas, may I show you what I’ve done so far?” Marianne asked brightly, trying to shift the topic.