Night Journey (3 page)

“Oh, my goodness! Do you think Zan and Emma’s ghost could be the same Theodora your mother knew?” Phoebe grinned widely and her eyes danced with excitement. “We need to have a séance.”

“Honey—Phoebe…”

“What is it, Allen?”

He lowered his voice and handed her his napkin. “You’ve got a piece of spinach stuck in your teeth.”

“Good grief.” She rubbed furiously at her mouth, then opened wide and tilted her head toward her intended. “Is it gone now?”

“Yes, dear.” They kissed blissfully and Emma couldn’t control her laughter.

“Yuck,” said Zan. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

A strolling photographer approached the table. “Would you guys like a group picture?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” said Allen. “Everybody smile.”

The photographer walked around the table, snapping several photos from different angles. “I’ll have the prints available at the front desk tomorrow afternoon. If you’re interested in any of them, you can purchase them there. Thanks.”

The party continued their dinner after the brief interruption. When Emma reached for the saltshaker she glanced to her left and noticed Jonathan gazing intently at her hand. The antique ring sparkled brilliantly, its facets bouncing light off the refracted crystal prisms overhead. “What’s the matter, Dad?”

“May I see your ring for a moment, please?”

She extended her hand. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Didn’t it belong to Zan’s mother?”

“Yes, and to Grandma Ivy—my mother—before that. It was her engagement ring.”

“So, Dad. If Grandpa Harry was so poor, how could he afford such a valuable rock?” asked Allen. “Was it an heirloom?”

“This is the part that’s so strange,” Jonathan replied. “It originally belonged to one of Grandma Ivy’s friends. I don’t know how Grandpa Harry ended up with it. It’s all kind of a mystery. But supposedly, the friend gave it to him and stipulated that it was to be worn by the eldest son’s wife and then handed down to their son for his wife. And so on and so on.”

“No way,” cried Zan. “This is just too, too weird.”

A sharp stab of guilt brought Emma’s euphoria crashing to earth when a voice whispered in her head.
You have no right to wear the ring. You can’t have Zan’s child. You know the medical tests scheduled for next week will crush your last shred of hope
. Fear and nausea suddenly overwhelmed her and she rose, almost knocking over her chair. She held her napkin to her mouth and prayed she could make it to the restroom in time.

“Emma, are you all right?” Zan asked. Ten sets of eyes watched her as she stumbled away.

“I don’t feel well...” She fled, searching for the nearest ladies’ room. Her sickness passed as soon as she opened the door, but fatigue and sadness overwhelmed her. She collapsed into a chair in the lounge area and began to weep. How could she have been so happy one minute and devastated the next? She’d never heard voices before and she was terrified. Was she losing her mind?

A moment later the door opened and Moonbeam walked in. She moved gracefully, like a sleek black cat stalking its prey. But her eyes seemed kind as she knelt on the floor next to Emma and reached for her hand. “Don’t cry, Emma. Everything’s going to be all right.”

“You don’t even know me,” Emma protested and jerked her hand away.

“I know a lot about you, Emma. Just from holding your hand.” Moonbeam passed her a tissue.

“I suppose you’re one of Phoebe’s psychic friends.” Emma took the tissue and wiped her face. “Can you read my mind?”

Moonbeam smiled and sat on the floor, crossing her legs in a lotus position. She reached for Emma’s hand again, turning it over and studying her palm. “I can’t read your mind, but I can sense impressions. You’re suffering from a lot of fear and anxiety right now.”

Emma bit back a sharp retort. Anybody with observational skills could make the same diagnosis. Why was she so angry with this woman? She didn’t like the hostile feelings that roiled within her, especially since Moonbeam had been so patient and nice to her. Hormone overload or not, this was not good.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in a chair?”

“Shh…” Moonbeam held a black tipped, talon-like finger to her lips. “I feel another presence in the room with us. Its energy is the source of your discomfort.”

“You can’t mean Theodo…“

“No,” Moonbeam interrupted. “This entity is full of rage. For some reason it has directed its anger at you and is bombarding you with negative thoughts. I first noticed its aura hovering above you at the table.”

“You mean it followed me to the bathroom?” Emma furtively scanned the room.

“It’s gone now.” Moonbeam inhaled deeply. “The atmosphere has already cleared. It didn’t like being discovered.”

Emma closed her eyes. The faint aroma of lavender hung in the air. A sensation of well-being wrapped itself around her like a blanket. Now where had she noticed that smell before? “We really ought to be getting back. They’ll be starting the rehearsal soon.”

“In a minute. May I?” Moonbeam reached for her hand again. “I want to show you something.”

“Are you a palm reader?” Emma’s eyes widened with fascination.

“Yes,” replied Moonbeam, tracing her finger across the lines in Emma’s palm. “My grandmother taught me, and my great-grandmother Cordelia taught her.”

“Can you really tell the future?”

“I can only make predictions based on the signs. Your palm is like a roadmap. There are so many junctures in life that are affected by your choices. If you choose to take the wrong path, your fate may be permanently altered. My purpose is to provide you with guidance.”

“This is all so unbelievable.” Emma shook her head. “I’m a systems analyst and I design web pages. My whole life is based on logic.”

“Don’t you think the Internet is a little bit like magic?” asked Moonbeam, then returned her attention to Emma’s palm. “You’ve suffered great loss. Some sort of accident. Was it an airplane?”

“Y-yes. My parents and little brother were killed in a plane crash six years ago.” Emma was stunned until she realized Phoebe must have told her. Her heartbeat slowed and her skepticism returned.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” said Moonbeam before continuing with the reading. “Okay, this is your Life Line. See how long and deep it is? This represents a long life full of health and vitality.”

“Well, that’s good,” Emma said, disbelief edging out her earlier enthusiasm. She thought about her scheduled hospital visit and had her doubts. The negative thoughts that had invaded her mind still lingered.

Moonbeam pointed to another crease above the Life Line. “This is your Head Line. It’s deep and long, which indicates logical thinking. This next one is your Heart Line. It curves upward sharply, which says you have a romantic nature. You also tend to give yourself completely to love, no matter what the cost.”

“Is everything okay in here? Zan’s getting worried,” interrupted Phoebe, walking into the ladies’ lounge and staring at the two women.

“I’m giving Emma a reading. Sit down.” Moonbeam motioned toward a chair in the corner. “Okay. Now
this
is your Fate Line. See how it starts clearly at the wrist and then joins the Life Line? This indicates a point where you have to surrender your own interests to those of other people.”

“What? I don’t think I like that.”

“But wait. Now see how it separates again from your Life Line? This means that you will again gain control of your life.”

“Oh, this is all so confusing.” Emma glanced at Phoebe sitting quietly, seemingly absorbed.

Moonbeam smiled and continued. “See this line down here? This is the Travel Line. See how it crosses the Fate Line? This indicates that you will take a trip that will present a life-changing experience.”

“What about children?”

“See this tiny line just below the base of the little finger? This is the Marriage Line. You only have one, which means you’ll have one spouse.” Moonbeam pointed to a tiny crease. “This line that connects with the Marriage Line tells me there will be children born to this marriage.”

“Okay, thanks.” Emma tensed and tried to pull her hand away. She had heard enough. She was beginning to believe what Moonbeam was telling her until she came up with the part about children. She knew that wasn’t going to happen. “Don’t you think we’d better get back to the party? They’ll be wanting to start the rehearsal.”

“Please. I have one more thing I must tell you.” Moonbeam refused to relinquish her hand. “This is very important.”

“Listen to her, Emma,” said Phoebe. “She knows what she’s doing.”

Emma stared at the two women with indecision. She didn’t want to be rude. “I’m sorry. This is just all so new and strange to me. Please continue.”

“Thank you,” Moonbeam replied. Phoebe scooted her chair closer. “I didn’t tell you this at first because I didn’t want to frighten you. Look at your Life Line. I told you earlier that it was long and deep. And it is. But look right there, where it completely disappears for a fraction of an inch. See?”

“Uh huh. What does that mean?”

Moonbeam hesitated and glanced toward Phoebe before continuing. “It means that your life will have a slight interruption.”

Emma shook her head in confusion. She shivered as a cold chill of dread spread through her veins. “I still don’t get what you’re saying.”

“It means that you will die—and then come back.”

Reality struck like a slap in the face. Emma recoiled, jerking her hand away. She rose abruptly and stared at Moonbeam in shock and disbelief. Why was this freaky woman saying such absurd things to her? She had gone way too far; she was nothing more than a sideshow fortuneteller. How could she have allowed herself to be sucked into accepting such nonsense?

“I’ve heard enough.” Emma bolted for the door. Determination replaced anger by the time she returned to her place at the table.

“Are you all right?” asked Zan. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

“Sorry, honey. I think I’m just tired from the long trip.” Emma patted his hand and smiled. She deliberately ignored Phoebe and Moonbeam when she saw them approach the table. “I feel much better now.”

“Will you be okay while we have the rehearsal?” Zan’s obvious concern softened Emma’s mood.

“Of course I will, darling. I’ll just sit right here and watch. You go on.”

Grateful for the opportunity to be alone with her thoughts, Emma quietly observed the wedding party rehearse in a corner of the dining room. Intermittent streaks of lightning illuminated the darkened windows, but Emma didn’t care about the impending thunderstorm. It was a relief not to have to make small talk and be sociable for a little while.

She had to get a grip, for Zan’s sake. For better or for worse, Phoebe was going to be a part of the family. But after the wedding tomorrow they would all go back to their own lives. Then Emma could forget about ghosts and mysterious falling objects and broken lifelines.

“All finished?” Emma flashed a smile at her husband when he approached after the small group had dispersed. She stood and followed him out of the dining room and down a corridor to the lobby.

“Yeah. I think it’ll go a lot better tomorrow night. There should be a lot more room to spread out at Thorncrown Chapel.”

“So are we still going on the ghost tour? It’s almost eight.” She knew Zan was looking forward to the tour. She didn’t want to be the one to put a damper on the pre-wedding festivities.

“Do you feel up to it? We don’t have to go if you’re too tired.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I want to find out what’s behind all the weird stuff that goes on around here. I have a theory.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“I think it’s all a big hoax. I suspect the hotel manipulates stuff to scare people out of their wits and make them believe the place is haunted. They’ve probably got wires or something to make the blinds move around and the ironing board fall. Why else would they sponsor ghost tours if it wasn’t a money-making scheme?”

“I don’t know.” Zan folded his arms and squinted. “They probably do capitalize on the ghost stories—but how did they make the champagne basket fall off the sink?”

“I already told you. They’ve got everything rigged.”

“Hm. If that’s true, maybe they’ve got the rooms bugged—hey, what’s that thing on the ceiling? Is that a hidden camera?” Zan craned his neck and pointed at a small red blinking light. “I remember seeing one of those in our room.”

“Okay. Cut it out. I know a smoke detector when I see one.” Emma rolled her eyes and leaned on the concierge desk. A flicker of recognition shattered her train of thought and she stared at the unusual piece of furniture. Colorful brochures advertising gift shops and tourist attractions were scattered across its surface, belying its sinister past. Now what made her think that? She shuddered as she ran her hand across the rich patina of the black walnut hexagon-shaped desk.

“What’s the matter?”

She shook her head, bewildered by the elusive awareness that seemed just out of her grasp. “I don’t know. I just had this weird feeling. Like I’ve seen this desk before—and something bad happened here. I think I’m losing it.”

“Now you’re creeping me out.” Zan cocked his head to one side and searched Emma’s face. “You’re messing with me. Right?”

Emma returned her husband’s gaze, struck by the childlike innocence of his question. The purity of his love for her showed clearly in his eyes, reminding her why she had fallen in love with him in the first place. Resolving to put his mind at ease, she donned her best fake smile and cried, “Gotcha!”

Zan returned her grin and reached for her elbow to guide her toward the stairs. “Come on, crazy lady. Let’s get up there before we miss out on the tour.”

Emma held onto Zan’s arm as they climbed the crooked old staircase to the fourth floor. The boards creaked and popped with each step. Although solid, the ancient stairs leaned under the weight of more than a century. A small crowd of potential ghost hunters milled about the hallway across from Dr. Baker’s Lounge. Allen and Phoebe caught sight of them and waved.

“Hey, we’ve got your passes,” said Allen. He handed two long paper tickets to Emma and Zan. “Come on. They’re about to start.”

Emma glanced behind her and saw her father-in-law leaning against the wall, chatting with a middle-aged couple wearing Hard Rock Café – St. Louis tee shirts. Barbara stood next to a boy, who appeared to be eleven or twelve. She dangled a camera cord while a calico kitten lunged and pounced playfully. Moonbeam loitered in the back, laughing and whispering with Chief Whitefeather; her voluptuous body pressed seductively close to the tall, handsome man. Emma supposed Phoebe’s parents and the preacher had decided to skip the evening’s entertainment.

“Do
not
—under any circumstances—blurt out to this tour guide what happened to me and Zan this afternoon,” Emma warned Allen. “If you do, I’ll have to hurt you.”

“You’re such a party pooper.” Allen stuck out his lower lip, then turned to Phoebe and gave her a hug. “I’m glad I’m marrying
you
.”

A pretty redhead wearing a green turtleneck sweater and stonewashed jeans came out of the Faculty Lounge. She motioned for the people to enter, while a distinguished looking gentleman with silver hair and laughing eyes collected their tickets. When everyone was seated she waved for attention. “Thanks, Johnny. Not too many tonight. Are ya’ll ready?”

A murmur of agreement wafted up through the small crowd. Zan put his arm around Emma. She smiled and put her head on his shoulder, ready to listen to the guide’s opening monologue.

“Hi, everybody. My name’s Cheryl. I’ll be your tour guide tonight.” She was cute and bubbly, putting everyone at ease with her homey, easy speech. “So. How is everybody? ...good…are you scared?...no?...you will be.”

Twitters of laughter drifted through the group. Someone snapped a picture.

“Okay, I’m gonna take you on the ghost tour of the Crescent Hotel. I think some of you are staying here tonight and if I mention your room and it scares you, I’m sorry. But if I don’t mention your room, don’t think that makes you immune. Walls don’t hold ghosts. They go wherever they want to. If they want to go in your room, they’re gonna do it—so you never know.”

Allen, sitting one row back, leaned close to Emma. He blew on the back of her neck and said, “Boo!”

Emma flinched and then gave him a withering glance over her shoulder. Zan shot a good-natured warning look at his brother, cuddled her protectively and said, “Hush, dimwit.”

Cheryl smiled at Allen and continued, “This is not a Halloween party tour. We don’t have anybody hiding in a corner that’s gonna jump out and scare you. That would be cheating and this is very, very real. It’s not just the hotel that’s haunted; it’s the whole area. Three-fourths of the people who live in this town will tell you they have somebody extra staying in their house.”

“Do you have a ghost living in your house?” asked the young boy, his eyes wide with wonder.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” replied Cheryl. “The place I live in now used to be an orphanage, so there are some children who are still there. My kids play with them. You see, my whole family is clairvoyant, so I grew up with it. When I was a little girl I thought everybody had ghosts in their houses.”

“I’m clairvoyant too,” volunteered Phoebe. “But I’ve heard that everybody is, to a certain extent. It’s just a matter of sensitivity to the forces of nature. Some people have more highly developed ESP than others. That’s why some people see ghosts and others don’t.”

“That’s right,” said Cheryl. “We get reports from people in the hotel all the time about things that happen. But it’s not like Hollywood. It’s not like the
Poltergeist
movie where people get sucked through a TV. Ghosts were people just like we are who have died and for whatever reasons are emotionally bonded to an area. You have to understand that whatever happened to them when they failed to cross over has to do with why they’re still here.”

“Do you ever see any ghosts on the tour?” asked the boy.

“Oh, yes,” replied Cheryl. “We’ve had ghosts materialize on the tour, but I can’t guarantee you’ll see something tonight. It takes a lot of energy for them to do that. You see, this isn’t a material world for them anymore. You have to understand that time is different for them. What may be a century for us could be like five minutes to them.”

“Do you conduct scientific experiments like on the ghost hunting shows?” asked Jonathan.

“Some. We’ve used equipment to measure electro-magnetics, spirit boxes, night vision cameras, etc. But the only way to get real proof is to die. I haven’t done that yet and I hope nobody here plans to do it any time soon. So just take what anybody tells you—including me—with a grain of salt. All I’m gonna do here tonight is present you with different things we’ve experienced and what we’ve researched about the history and legends of the area and the building.”

“Fakes. What’d I tell you?” Emma whispered to Zan. She tried to ignore the nagging memory of Moonbeam’s prediction. He grinned and squeezed her ribs.

“If you have questions, please feel free to ask,” Cheryl continued. “This is a really, really laidback tour. If something happens to you that’s outside the norm, say something. Raise your hand and say
‘this happened to me.’
Nobody will say you’re crazy. After all, you’ve just paid eighteen dollars to go on a ghost tour. So scream your lungs out if something happens—well, don’t scream. You’ll scare everybody else to death.”

Someone’s cell phone played Taps. A buzz of laughter drifted through the crowd.

“Be sure and take lots of photos,” said Cheryl. “We’ve had tons of people capture pictures of ghosts on this tour.”

“What do they look like?” asked the wide-eyed boy.

“Well, if you’re very lucky, you’ll get a picture of ectoplasm, which looks kind of like smoke. But mostly they show up as balls of energy, called orbs. If you’re using a regular camera, be sure to tell the developer you want every picture back. A lot of times what happens is there’ll be funny spots on the film and the developer will throw them away, thinking it’s a flaw in the film. You don’t want them to throw away your ghost.”

Barbara gasped when she scrolled through the images on her digital camera. A bright, glowing ball of light hovered in a far corner of the hallway on one of the pictures. “I think I got one. Look at this.”

“Yeah, that’s an orb all right.” Cheryl smiled and nodded. “That’s the kind of thing to look for.”

Emma craned her neck and stared at the camera display. She whispered to Zan, “Dust particle caught in the flash.” She smiled and continued to listen politely.

“Sometimes on this tour you may hear somebody talking and it’s not me and it’s not anybody on the tour. You may smell something you know shouldn’t be there. Sometimes you’ll get touched.” Cheryl rolled her eyes when Allen made a face. “No, this isn’t a groping ghost, so you’re not gonna get lucky. You may see somebody walking down the hall and then just disappear into the wall. It happens. Sometimes you just see the outside shape or you’ll see shadows in your peripheral vision.

“Okay! Any questions so far?” asked Cheryl. “No? All right, a little bit of history. The Osage Indians lived here for hundreds of years. They believed the water that came from springs in the Ozarks was magical and could cure whatever was wrong with you. They basically worshipped the water that was in this area. Legend has it that when Ponce de Leon was searching for the Fountain of Youth he was actually headed just south of Eureka Springs. But he never made it this far and wound up in Florida.”