Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) (32 page)

Marianne half laughed, half pleaded, “Please don’t say anything to him! I don’t want to scare him off. We’ve agreed to have coffee sometime this weekend.”

“It’s about time! I won’t interfere, promise.”

“Is Sarah around? I wouldn’t mind talking to her, if she’s available.”

“Hold on. Hey, Lawgirl, Marianne’s on the line.” There were noises of the phone being transferred to other hands and Sarah’s voice came on.

“Hey, Marianne, how are things on Violet Lane?” Sarah’s voice was a deep pool of quiet water compared to Kelly’s bubbliness.

“It’s actually amazingly peaceful and quiet.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear. I’ll come by on the weekend and help you tailor the defenses we put up so you can screen your ‘calls.’ so to speak.”

“That would be good since I think I’m starting to see more spirits.” She described her visit to the cemetery to leave the little rabbit and see John Irving, as well as her unexpected meeting with Jesse Carleton.

“Wow,” Sarah sounded impressed. “Yeah, I’ve met Mr. Carleton. He died before I started hanging out at the cemetery. But I met him soon after I met John. Mostly, he works in the shed, keeping the tools organized, and sometimes helping John remember all his appointments. I think he sometimes helps new arrivals get used to residing out there.”

“Oh. I guess that would be very helpful.” For a few seconds Marianne’s imagination strayed to what that might mean. Then she told Sarah about visiting her grandmother and mentioned her advice to set her boundaries.

“She’s not wrong about that. She sounds like an interesting person. I’d like to meet her.”

“She’ll be at the party on Friday, and I’ll introduce you. I told her about our meeting with the Rutherfords yesterday, and she wanted to meet you, too.”

“Excellent! Yeah, if you open yourself to seeing spirits who are still around and indicate to them that you are willing to listen to them, you may have more people knocking on your door than you want. We’ll definitely have to put up some good barriers, so you can get some peace and quiet. We’ll make them so you can let in the people you want to see and talk to and keep out the others. George, in particular, since he might be inclined to return to a familiar place.”

Marianne shivered slightly. “I would like to keep him out for sure. I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing Anne again, if she wanted to come by and play my piano, for instance.”

“I think we can set up something like that. I’m pretty tired tonight, so I’m thinking of heading to bed. Is there anything else?”

Marianne felt guilty at the thought of draining her friend’s energy yesterday. “I’m sorry,” she said automatically. “No, that was it. Thank you again for coming yesterday and helping me with Anne and George. It has been so peaceful and nice here today. I didn’t feel like anyone was looking over my shoulder when I was painting this morning.”

“Good. I’ll see you on Friday. Don’t worry about me. Even though I’m a big, tough lawyer, being tired after facing down an angry guy, whether he’s alive or dead, is part of the territory. Sleep well.”

“G’night.”

Marianne sat on the couch, stroking Oscar’s orange and white fur as he lay next to her, and listened to the quiet stillness of her house. She closed her eyes and pictured the shelves painted with everything put away and hoped she could achieve that by Friday at noon. Beyond that, she was going to have to put some serious thought into making some money this fall. She’d nudge her history colleague, Gillian, tomorrow.

She slept with the windows open as usual to let the warm air of the house exchange with the cooler air from outside. Her dreams, processing events of the day, threw up jumbled images of trees, the cemetery, John Irving, her grandmother’s house in Vandenberg. Eventually, they segued into her walking down a twilight cityscape with gridded streets and familiar shop fronts distorted by dreaming. She was trying to get home, but someone was following her. Whenever she turned to look, there was no one there, but the feeling persisted. She turned into a building to evade him and found herself walking down white corridors and through doors and up and down stairs, eventually ending up in a huge, industrial-looking basement encircled by pipes. She headed purposefully for a door across the room and heard footsteps behind her. She began to run, and the footsteps sped up. Just as she reached for the handle to wrench the door open, Geoffrey caught up with her and spun her around. He leered at her and said triumphantly, “I know where you live!” Marianne screamed silently and surfaced from her dream with a start.

She lay on her bed, her heart pounding with adrenaline for a few moments. Well, that was unambiguous, she thought. It’s only a matter of time before Geoffrey finds me up here. The more she thought about it, the less likely it seemed he would take off work to drive up here. He was bent on pursuing her, but he’d so far done it on his own time, not company time. So, turning up on the weekend was more likely, and if the urgency of the dream was true, this weekend was a distinct possibility. She didn’t know if he had her address, but he most likely knew she was in Maple Hill by now. Sarah was probably right that he would leave her alone if she stood up to him, but she didn’t know what she could say or do that would work. Marianne lay awake for quite a long time fretting about her situation like a hamster running in a wheel before she fell asleep again.

Ruari worked late into the night finalizing the details of the face, hand, and hair of the “Sleeping Lady.” The tiny tools cramped his hands repeatedly, and he had to stop and shake his fingers and palm out often. The thought of stopping never occurred to him. His eyes grew tired and gritty even with the better light he was using. It was a present from Erin who had dropped it by unceremoniously a couple of days ago. She’d been humming to herself, and Ruari had the impression she was happy about something. Maybe the job search was yielding fruit at last, but he refrained from asking her. She’d bitten his head off the last couple of times he’d inquired politely, so he waited for her to tell him in her own good time.
 

Living at home with their parents was wearing a little thin even for Erin. He’d hinted that she could come and sleep at his place if she needed to, but her eye-rolling expression was a clear enough answer. At least Erin knew she was welcome, he thought.
 

Marianne would be welcome too, he thought. He remembered her smile and the light in her beautiful amber eyes when she opened the door and saw it was him on the step. He’d gotten a haircut today, feeling self-conscious about his hair for the first time all summer. His tired fingers spasmed, and the tiny chisel slipped, leaving a straight gash when he’d meant it to be a curved one. I’m carving distracted, he thought and spent several minutes correcting the mistake.
 

His thoughts wandered again to watching Marianne’s lovely curves as she led him to the kitchen, and the memory of the electric tingle when they’d shaken hands that one time caused him to slip again. This time the chisel pricked his palm below his thumb, and he hissed in pain.
 

“Okay, okay,” he muttered to himself. “Pay attention, Ruari Allen, or you’ll ruin all your fine work and end up in the emergency room to boot.” He wiped his hand on his trousers, licked it till the bleeding stopped and continued with renewed focus.

Once the detail work was done, he began sanding the surfaces. The wood felt smooth and warm and curiously alive in his hands. The grain wove gently throughout the piece and echoed the curves of the curtains, the hair, and the tilt of the woman’s face. He was pleased with how it looked. Only when he realized his sanding strokes were slowing and the pauses between them lengthening did he realize his fatigue was overwhelming. Setting the piece on the workbench, he brushed it off with a piece of clean flannel and placed the covering cloth over it.

He staggered toward his cot upstairs like a puppet with a drunken master and fell asleep almost before he’d undressed and pulled Nana’s quilt over himself.

Chapter 26

 
Marianne woke the next morning feeling a little shaky and bearing a lingering shadow of apprehension from unsettled dreams. Losing herself in work was a good antidote. She managed to clean and paint the other set of shelves in the living room and got a load of laundry together.
 

Cautiously descending step by step, she made her way down into the cool, musty room below. Her knees still twinged but less painfully. Light illuminated most of the space, and she noted wryly, the lightbulb on the far side of the coal chute was working again. The new window Ruari had installed let in much more light than the old, age-frosted one had. She loaded her clothes into the washer all the while “listening” with senses other than her ears for any signs of ghostly presence but felt nothing. Oscar came down the stairs and prowled around looking for mice or other adventures. Satisfied that the basement was now just the room below the house, Marianne went back upstairs, leaving the door ajar for Oscar to return at his leisure.

Fixing herself a glass of iced tea and the last of her lunch makings, she went to her office and sat down to do some research. She checked her email and found nothing from Geoffrey, which wasn’t nearly as reassuring as it should have been. She found an email proposal from Gillian, her NYU colleague, to co-teach a class called “The Victorian Age and it’s Legacy in the Twenty-First Century” in January. Excitedly, she read it and spent some time responding with ideas of her own. The prospect of work in the near future helped push the disquiet to the rear of her mind. Mentally, she reviewed her savings and expenses and was confident that she could live well for a year. But, the settlement wouldn’t last forever, and she needed a steady income.

After she sent her response to Gillian, she surfed the Internet for a while. It turned out to be quite a resource for ways and means to protect her house from spirits and other negative influences, and she made extensive notes. She was grateful she was right handed and glad her left was healing. After an hour there was a list of ingredients and other items compiled on a separate sheet, to which she added things for her painting project. The list was long enough that she might need the car to take it all home. A brief look in the fridge showed she was out of food as well, and she sighed and gave in to the need for a major shopping expedition.

Finding parking up on Main Street was not bad. Wednesdays seemed to have fewer tourists. She went to the hardware store first and got another container of wall patching material and replaced the dark brown trim paint George had tossed around. She wandered the tall, narrow aisles looking at the vast array of tools, fasteners, hardware, plumbing, and electrical supplies. There were a number of other customers, mostly men in work clothes and construction site boots, who all looked like they knew what they wanted. Down the electricals aisle, she saw a bearded man peering at a display of wire, fuses, boxes, and connectors. He glanced her way and did a double take. She smiled politely, nodding slightly, and moved on to the next row. She was walking down an aisle with dozens of gloves hanging by the wrists like limp hands when she heard a slight cough. Pausing, she turned. The bearded man was at the end of the aisle, staring at her hopefully.

Excuse me, miss. Could you help me find a twenty-amp fuse?
He sounded polite and a little wistful.

“I’m sorry. I don’t work here,” she said automatically. Then she processed the curiously tinny sound to his voice and suspected that he might not be your ordinary helpless customer. She approached, noting his curiously weightless look. “Maybe I can help you. What are you looking for again?”

My wife sent me out for a twenty-amp fuse. It blew when the power went out just before dinner, but I haven’t been able to find one. She’s waiting for me, and dinner will be cold.
He sounded sad and a little anxious.

Marianne said kindly, “Let me see if I can find out. Wait right here.” As she walked to the front of the store, she thought, poor guy. I wonder how long he’s been looking for that fuse? His wife must have waited for him for a long time. It must be awful to be in limbo like that. I wonder why he never made it home?

 
She caught the eye of the sandy haired young man who had helped her with paint and said, “Excuse me, could you tell me where the fuses are?”

He led her to the walkway adjoining the one where she’d seen the bearded specter and pointed to the fuses on their hook. Marianne thanked him, and he left. As soon as he was gone, she said softly, “Are you there?”

The bearded man appeared a few feet away, looking indistinct like a photo printed on a sheer curtain. “The fuses you are looking for are here.” She indicated the place on the display.
 

He smiled and reached out for the little shrink-wrapped package. His hand passed through it, but he seemed unfazed.
Thank you
, he said faintly and was gone.

Marianne walked away feeling a bit unsettled. She wondered, was this going to keep happening? It’s not as if the bearded gentleman was frightening in any way. It was just strange being privileged to see this entire other layer of existence overlapping the one in which she’d grown up. Maybe in time she’d get used to it?

At the counter she paid for the spackle and paint. The assistant asked if she’d found everything she was looking for, and she replied, “Yes, I just wanted to know where the fuses were if I ever need them.”

He gave her an odd look, and she responded with an unconcerned smile. She hoped no one had witnessed her interchange with the ghostly man. If she wasn’t careful, she thought, she was going to develop a reputation as a crazy person who talked to herself—and got replies.

Next she went to the co-op and did her food shopping and was able to pick up some of her protective ingredients as well. While she strolled through the aisles, she heard the telltale click of the PA mic and paused to listen.

A deep southern drawl said, “Dahnna, you have a cahll on line one. Dahnna, line one.”
 

She smiled and made her way to the candles and herbals aisle. She picked up several white beeswax candles with no scent, some more cedar incense cones and dried sage bundles, but there were no crystals or stones here. She planned her next stop at Dream Time, the New Age store down the street, and headed there after stashing her purchases in the car.