Treasured Legacies (A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery) (4 page)

Bradley rushed out of his office, pulling on his jacket, as
he passed Dorothy’s desk. “I’m heading over to Mary’s,” he said.

“Is she okay?” Dorothy asked.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think so,” he replied hesitantly.
“I mean, I’m sure… She just wants to talk…”

He froze and stared at Dorothy. “She just wants to talk,” he
repeated. “That’s never good.”

“Don’t worry about it, Chief,” Dorothy said with what she
hoped was an encouraging smile. “Everything’s fine.”

Bradley looked at the grimace pasted on Dorothy’s face and
his stomach dropped. He’d better hurry. “Thanks, Dorothy,” he said, trying to
hide his alarm. “I’ll call you if I’m going to be a while.”

Rather than take his cruiser and try and find parking,
Bradley decided to jog the three short blocks to Mary’s office.
 
Maybe the run in the cool spring air would
help his sense of dread.
 
The lights
worked in his favor and he jogged across Galena Avenue, turning right toward
Main Street.
 

What could be wrong?
he
asked himself.
Mary
was great this morning at breakfast. Last night was…
he smiled as he
remembered their night together.
…amazing.
 
If it had been an emergency, she would have
told me.
 
Or would she?
 
What if the hospital called?
 
What if they found something?

He broke into a run for the final block and threw the door
open to Mary’s office. “What’s wrong?” he panted, putting his hands on his
knees while he caught his breath.

“Hi,” she said nervously, avoiding eye contact with him.
“Why don’t you, um, have a seat.”

Something is wrong.
Something is very wrong
, Bradley thought as he slipped into the chair
across from her. “What’s up?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“I… I had a great conversation with Gracie this morning,”
she said quickly. “She suggests we bring Clarissa to a child psychologist so
she can talk about everything that’s happened to her.
 
She thinks that will really help Clarissa.”

Bradley nodded. “Well, good, that sounds like a great idea,”
he said. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Yes, I do,” Mary replied. “Actually, I already called her
and she can meet with all of us tomorrow afternoon, if that works for you.”

Bradley sat back in the chair and ran his hand through his
hair. “That works for me,” he answered quickly. “But
Mary,
is that why you asked me to come to your office?”

“No,” she confessed, shaking her head quickly. “No it’s not.
I’m just stalling.”

Quickly sitting up and moving to the edge of his seat,
Bradley leaned forward over the desk and took Mary’s hands in his own. “What is
it?” he asked. “You can tell me anything.”

Taking a deep breath, she shook her head. “The other night,
Saturday night, when the hospital called, the nurse mentioned something…” she
began.

Bradley jumped up from the chair, came around the desk and
knelt down next to her. “Mary, what’s wrong?” he asked. “I had a feeling there
was something you weren’t telling me. But whatever it is, we can work through
it.”

She nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “Well, it was just
so unexpected,” she said. “And I knew we were going through all kinds of stress
and I didn’t want to add one more thing to the list.”

Bradley froze, staring at her for a moment. “How bad is it?”
he asked. “How long do you have?”

Talking over him, she continued to explain. “And really I
never even thought it was possible, given the surgery,” she continued. “So I
didn’t take precautions, because really, why bother?”

“It’s related to the shooting?” he asked. “Did something
happen to your organs? Weaken you? Damage something and now they’re finding
it?”

“And then, everything is going to change in nine months,”
she said, not hearing him and wiping away her tears. “I mean we just started
our new family, nine months is not a lot of time to have together before things
change.”

Bradley stood up, clapping his hand over his mouth, his
stomach dropping to his feet. “Nine months,” he finally said, shaking his head
in disbelief. “You only have nine months.
 
I don’t know what to say.”

He paced away from her, trying to get his emotions under
control. He was going to lose Mary in nine months. How would he ever continue
on?

He heard her chair push away from the desk and she came up
behind him, lacing her arms around his waist and placing her head on his back.
“I’m sorry, Bradley. I should have—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice hoarse. “Don’t blame
yourself. I don’t want our last nine months to be wasted in blame.”

“Our last nine months?” she exclaimed tearfully. “You’re
going to leave me?”

He slowly turned and looked down at her. “What are we
talking about?”

“I guess you’re leaving me in nine months,” she replied,
tears rolling down her cheeks and her voice shaking.

“I thought you were leaving me in nine months,” he said.

Wiping tears off her face with the back of her hand, she
shook her head angrily. “How could I leave you in nine months?” she asked. “The
baby will be brand new.”

Bradley gasped, like he had been punched in the solar
plexus. “The baby?” he asked.

“Yes, the baby,” she replied. “I’m pregnant. What do you
think I’ve been trying to tell you?”

Having been emotionally transported from abject misery to
utter amazement, for a moment all Bradley could do was stare at Mary, his mouth
hanging open.

Swallowing nervously, Mary waited for a moment before
asking. “Do you really hate the idea?”

Slowly, not saying a word, he knelt before her, wrapped his
arms around her waist and laid his head against her abdomen.
 
Then he turned his head and kissed her
stomach.
 
She enfolded his head in her
arms and held him there, tears of joy slipping down her cheeks.

“Our baby,” he whispered. “I can’t believe it.”

“Are you happy about it?” she asked.

He turned his head up and looked at her.
 
She saw the wonder through the tears.

“Happy?” he replied. “Happy doesn’t begin to describe what
I’m feeling. I’m overwhelmed.”

She bent over and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I love
you,” she said.

He stood and swept her into his arms. “I love you,” he said,
crushing her lips with his own.

Finally, a few moments later, he lifted his head and smiled
tenderly down at her. “We’re having a baby.”

Eyes glowing with love, she nodded. “Yeah, looks like it,”
she agreed. “I’m going to see the doctor this afternoon.”

“Okay, I’ll be there,” he replied.

“Will you?” she asked, overjoyed.

He kissed her again. “Of course I will,” he answered after a
moment. “This is our baby.”

Walking across the room to her desk, he carefully placed her
in the chair. “So, can I get you anything?” he asked.
“Something
to eat?”

She smiled up at him. “No, I’m great. I’m perfect,” she said
with a deep sigh of relief. “I’m so happy you reacted this way.
 
I thought the news would be just another
added stress.”

He leaned over and kissed her again. “A baby is a blessing,
not a stress,” he said. “So, when shall we tell Clarissa?”

Mary sat back in her chair and placed her hand protectively
on her abdomen. “Well, there is something else you should know,” she said. “The
hospital said the positive test indicated that I was pregnant, but after what
happened to me on Saturday, that could be changed.”

Kneeling in front of her chair, Bradley placed his hand over
hers. “You mean you might not be pregnant anymore?”

She nodded. “I thought about waiting until after my
appointment to tell you,” she admitted. “Just so…”

“So you could save me from the disappointment,” he added.
“Mary, you do remember the whole ‘for better and for worse’ part of the
ceremony right?”

She shrugged and looked away. “Yes, but…”

Lifting his other hand, he gently cupped her cheek and
turned her towards him. “I’m glad you told me, not only because I will be able
to be there for you when you get the news, good or bad. But also because it
lets us both know you can get pregnant.
 
So, if for some reason this baby isn’t meant to be, we know there’ll be
others.”

He tenderly rubbed his thumb across her cheek, catching the
single tear that made its way down her face. “We’re a team, right,” he said
softly, with a crooked smile. “Go team.”

She chuckled quietly. “Yeah, go team,” she replied and then
sniffed back the tears. “But as far as Clarissa, I think we should wait until
we know for sure. She doesn’t need any more sadness right now.”

Nodding, he stood and kissed her again. “You’re absolutely
right,” he said. “Let’s see what the doctor says and then we can decide on
what’s best to tell her. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mary replied. “Now, you should go back to keeping
Freeport safe for all its residents and I’ll get to work.”

He stayed where he was, bent over her chair. “You’ll take it
easy? Promise?” he asked.

Grinning, she nodded. “I promise,” she said. “And thanks for
worrying.”

“Oh, don’t thank me,” he said with a returning smile. “I
promise I’m going to be a pain in the butt about watching over you.
Just warning you.”

“Okay, just occasionally remind me that I did thank you,”
she replied.
“Once.”

Suddenly serious, he bent once more and kissed her tenderly.
“I thought I could never love you more than I did when I asked you to marry
me,” he whispered softly. “I was wrong.”

“Thanks for doing this for me,” Rosie said, as she drove
down Highway 20 away from Freeport. “I really think this house needs a family,
but something is pushing everyone away.”

Mary sat back in the comfortable leather seat of Rosie’s SUV
and nodded. “No problem,” she said. “I just need to be back in my office by
three because I have a three thirty doctor’s appointment.”

Rosie glanced over at Mary, then back to the road. “Is it a
follow-up visit from what happened on Saturday?” she asked, concerned. “Maybe
you shouldn’t be doing this, Mary.
 
You
should be home, resting.
 
I can’t believe
I asked you to do this.
 
I’m turning around
right now.”

Mary placed her hand softly on Rosie’s arm. “I’m fine,
Rosie,” she assured her. “It’s not a follow-up visit.
 
It’s something completely different.”

Rosie turned to protest but stopped when she noticed the
peaceful smile on Mary’s face.
What in
the world?

“Are you sure you’re fine?” she asked. “I still feel bad
about what happened—”

“Rosie,” Mary interrupted. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Rosie exclaimed, gasping in delight. “Are you sure?”

“We’re going to the doctor this afternoon,” she explained.
“The hospital did a routine check that turned out positive, but I don’t think
we’re really going to know until they can hear a heartbeat.”

“How long does that take?” Rosie asked.

“Not for at least a couple more weeks,” Mary replied. “But,
since I haven’t shown any signs of losing the baby, I’m going to believe I’m
still pregnant.”

“Mary, that is just so wonderful,” Rosie said. “I’m sure
Bradley and Clarissa
are
thrilled.”

“Well, Bradley’s thrilled,” Mary said. “But we haven’t told
Clarissa yet.
 
We want to make sure
everything’s okay before we tell her.
 
She doesn’t need any more loss in her life.”

“Why, I suppose that’s a good idea,” Rosie said.
“Until you know for sure.”

Rosie turned right from Highway 20 onto a smaller road.
“We’re almost to the little farm,” she said. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to
this?”

“I feel great,” Mary said.

“Okay, well,
then
let’s find out
what secrets this house is hiding,” she replied as she pulled the SUV into the
gravel driveway and in front of the house.

Mary stepped out of the SUV and stared at the house.
 
It was a large wood-framed home, with a
graceful wraparound porch, a picture window in the front and a porch swing just
waiting for an occupant.
 
Rosie was
right, it needed a family.
 
It was a
place for family gatherings. She could picture a Christmas tree in the front
window, with the porch strewn with lights and garland or friends and families
gathering for a country Thanksgiving, arms filled with dishes as they walked up
the stairs, greeted by loved ones.
 
This
house had great memories, but it needed more.

“I see what you mean,” Mary said to Rosie, over the hood of
the vehicle. “Let’s go in.”

They walked up the steps and Rosie unlocked the door,
leading the way into the house.

The front hallway had a staircase to the left and a doorway
ahead of them.
 
Mary paused, waiting to
see if she felt a prompting to go upstairs or continue through the first
floor.
 
She had a little twist in her
stomach as she looked through the doorway that led to the dining room. “Let’s
go this way,” she suggested, walking down the hallway.

The old wood floors glistened in the sunlight that poured
through the lace-curtained windows.
 
The
house was chilly, but it seemed to Mary to be more the cause of a low
thermostat setting than anything supernatural.
 
She walked through the dining room, into a great room with a wood stove
on a red brick hearth.
 
This would be cozy
, she thought.
 

Walking slowly around the empty room, Mary could sense a
feeling of family in the room.
 
She could
see shadows of the families who had lived here; children standing around the
wood stove in the early morning hours enjoying the warmth as they talked and
laughed, other children playing board games on a coffee table, a child laying
on a couch covered with a quilt as a worried mother hovered nearby and hushed
voices and the patter of little feet as they rushed down the stairs to greet
the magic of Christmas.
 
There was
nothing scary or supernatural here, just memories, good memories, of growing
up.
 
There had to be something else wrong
with the house, because it really didn’t seem to be haunted.
 
Turning to Rosie, she was about to suggest
they leave when she saw a movement in the kitchen.

Hurrying across the room, she walked through the doorway to
the big country kitchen.
 

“What are you doing in my house?” the man demanded.

Mary turned and gasped.
 
He was standing in the far corner of the kitchen, near the back
door.
 
He was wearing an old barn jacket
over a pair of worn overalls.
 
But his
head was twisted sideways and it was too narrow and long, as if it had been
crushed.
 
She looked carefully and saw
his body also seemed to have been broken by the way he stood.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” he snapped. “What are you
doing in my house?”

“Hi, I’m Mary,” she said, approaching him. “Mary O’Reilly. I
was invited here because your family is interested in selling the house.”

“What the hell?” he growled. “We’re not selling this
place.
 
This place has been in our family
for generations.
 
I don’t give a damn
what those land speculators say, we
ain’t
selling,
not one acre.”

“Well, I agree with you,
Mr
—” Mary
paused.

“Johnson. Dale Johnson,” he replied, gliding over to her. “I
own this place. Don’t do all the running of it anymore - my kids do that- but I
still own every single square foot.”

“It’s a beautiful place,” Mary agreed. “I don’t blame you
for not wanting to sell it.”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, it is beautiful and it’s got
plenty of good memories wrapped up inside it. And I thank you for being so
polite.
 
I’ve had my house invaded for
the last little while by strangers who think they can just walk all over without
even a ‘how do you do.’
 
I follow them
around the house, demanding they leave, but they just ignore me. Peeking in my
closets and opening my drawers, who the hell do they think they are?”

“This might seem like an odd question,” Mary said. “But
what’s the last thing you remember doing on your farm?”

He paused for a moment, walked over to the back door and
stared outside. “Why, I fed the calves,” he said slowly, “Just like I do every
night.
 
Had Buster, my
dog, with me.
 
I remember it was
getting a might chilly and I could tell winter wasn’t too far off.”

“Then what did you do?” Mary asked.

“I watered the calves and then…,” he stopped and then turned
to her. “The door to the grain silo was open.
 
Sometimes those boys are just careless.
 
Full grown men and they can’t even remember to latch the silo door. I
need to remember to talk to them about that.”

“So, did you latch the door?”

“Well, let me see now,” he said, scratching the side of his
misshapen head. “I remember going into the silo, just to be sure no one was in
there.
 
You don’t want to be caught in a
locked silo during the harvest.”

“That makes sense,” Mary said. “Was anyone in there?”

“No. It was all cleaned out, ready for the corn,” he said.
“The boys were out in the field with the combines and the trucks, trying to get
the grain in before we got rain.
 
They
were working like crazy ‘
cause
they waited until the
last minute again.
 
I told them they
could have pulled that grain in a week earlier, but no, they wanted a couple
more days of drying.
 
Don’t know what good
that did anyhow.”

“Do you remember latching the door?” Mary asked. “Or talking
with your sons?”

“I…I remember looking around the inside of the silo,” he
said slowly. “And then… And then I remember hitting my head. Can’t imagine what
I’d hit my head on, but it knocked me off my feet and onto the ground.
 
I woke up a little while later and…”

He stopped, turned back to the door and looked out the
window. Mary could see he was still running the event through his mind.

“What the hell?” he said softly and then turned and met
Mary’s eyes. “I don’t remember getting out of the silo.
 
I don’t remember anything…”

Eyes widening, he shook his head. “I didn’t leave, did I?”

“No,” Mary said. “You didn’t leave. You got trapped in there
and died.”

“I died?” he asked, his voice hoarse and unsure. “I’m dead?”

He glided past her, rushing into the dining room.
“Greta!
 
Greta, where are you?”

Mary turned to Rosie who had been standing back next to the
doorway to the great room. “Who is Greta?” she asked.

“Greta is, well, was, his wife,” Rosie said. “They moved her
to an assisted living home because her kids didn’t think it was safe for her to
be living out here all by herself.”

“All by herself?”
Mary asked.
“Didn’t the kids live close by because of the farm?”

“Oh, no, most of the farm property was sold off years ago,”
Rosie said. “All they had left was the house and these five acres.”

“Well Dale is not going to be happy about that,” Mary said.