Ghost Town (5 page)

Suddenly she reached for my right hand, the one without the list. Very gently, she traced the lines on my
open palm with her crooked finger. Her eyes peered intently at my palm. For a moment, the only sound was our breathing. Hers soft and controlled. Mine more rapid.

She swayed slightly as she continued tracing. “Mmmmm,” she murmured.

“Yes?” I asked, unable to hide my curiosity. Did she know if I'd live a long life? Marry a cute guy? Have tons of kids?

“It's hard to see what others can't, isn't it, my dear?” she asked softly.

I jerked my hand away from her. My heart thudded as I gaped at the fortune-teller.

How does she know?

Before I could ask, the doorbell chimed.

“Ah, my client has arrived.” Lady Azura straightened her head scarf and shook out her long, crinkled black skirt. Then she headed through the curtain and across the fortune-telling room. I trailed behind, slightly in awe. I'd never met anyone who could sense things about me—things I'd worked so hard to hide.

She paused in the foyer. “You have my list?”

I held it up and nodded. She reached her hand out, grazing my arm.

I shirked away, still unnerved by her touch.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the doorbell chimed twice more. “It's hot outside. Buy yourself an ice cream and put it on my charge,” she offered before opening the door.

“Welcome, Mrs. McHugh.” Lady Azura ushered in a middle-aged woman with short black hair. She wore a pale yellow cotton sweater that strained across her wide middle and black knit pants. Her sunken eyes peered about searchingly. “I am so glad Mrs. Christie recommended me to you. Please, come in.” Lady Azura grasped both of Mrs. McHugh's hands in hers and gently led her through the purple velvet curtain. I turned to leave but then paused.

I stood alone in the red foyer, twisting the scrap of paper in my hands. I'd never seen a fortune-teller at work. Lady Azura's raspy voice and Mrs. McHugh's nasal drawl were hard to make out this far from the curtain. I tiptoed closer.

Just one little look
, I told myself.
Then I'll go to the store.

Peering through a gap in the fabric, I saw Mrs. McHugh sitting at the round table. Lady Azura had plugged an electric teapot into the wall and set it on a hot plate on the table. She perched on the edge of the armchair, directly across from Mrs. McHugh.

“Please select a handful of leaves.” Lady Azura pushed a white china saucer piled with loose tea leaves toward her client. “Ahh . . . you must choose
with your mind, not your hands,” she instructed.

She opened the lid of the teapot and motioned for Mrs. McHugh to drop the leaves inside. After replacing the lid, Lady Azura reached across the table for Mrs. McHugh's hands. “Close your eyes. Empty your mind.”

Lady Azura hummed and swayed until the teapot whistled. Then she poured the brewed tea into a large white china cup and placed it before Mrs. McHugh. “Let the steam wash over you,” she intoned. “Breathe in the scent. Draw it to you.”

I watched Mrs. McHugh's wide shoulders rise as she inhaled.

“Now, slowly sip the tea,” Lady Azura instructed. “Block out all thoughts as you drink. It is just you and the tea. Focus on the tea.”

Mrs. McHugh seemed deeply connected to the liquid as she drank. Lady Azura reached for the cup. “Now we swirl the tea. Once . . . twice . . . thrice.” She pulled a second saucer close and poured the remaining liquid into it. “Ahhh . . . now the tea leaves remain. Their patterns are the patterns of your life.”

Both women peered into the cup. I leaned forward to see what they saw, but I was too far away.

“What will happen to me?” Mrs. McHugh asked.

Lady Azura squinted into the cup. “I see a bell shape. This bell is a call to attention. And by the bell the leaves form a cat. This cat symbolizes an untrustworthy friend. Do you have a friend you are unsure about?”

“Well, lately MaryEllen at work has been acting a little strange—”

“Yes, yes. MaryEllen is one to watch. Be wary of her,” Lady Azura warned. “I see wings. Wings tell me you may be limiting yourself at your job—”

“Well, there was a promotion I was going to apply for, but then—”

“You must not put up barriers,” Lady Azura interrupted her. “See this fence shape? You are holding yourself back. Do you feel that way?”

“Well, sometimes . . .”

“You need to set yourself free, and then you will succeed at work.” Lady Azura peered closer at the leaves. “I see a palm tree here near the bottom. You shall go on a trip soon. A vacation.”

Mrs. McHugh brightened. “Really?”

“Yes.” Lady Azura pointed into the cup. “And see
this wagon shape near the palm tree? You will go on the vacation with a childhood friend . . . wait, no, you shall meet your childhood friend
while
on vacation.”

“Sonya? Sonya will be there?” Mrs. McHugh sounded delighted.

Lady Azura looked up at her client. “Yes, I think it is indeed Sonya,” she said in a dramatic voice.

I wrinkled my nose. I bet I could just as easily read this woman's fortune from a pack of M&Ms! Red—you'll find love. Yellow—something scary will happen. . . . I stepped away from the curtain, about to leave.

Then I heard Mrs. McHugh say, “I'm here because my friend, well, she said that you can reach beyond. She said you can . . . contact the dead.”

I froze.

“There is someone you want to communicate with?” Lady Azura asked.

“Yes.” Mrs. McHugh choked back a sob. “My brother, Ronald. He passed last year.”

“Let us begin,” Lady Azura said.

I crept back to my spot by the curtain and peered back inside. The lamp had been switched off and the drapes drawn, leaving the room nearly dark. A large
white cylindrical candle flickered in the center of the round table. Lady Azura and Mrs. McHugh grasped hands. My throat felt dry. I licked my lips.
Can she really do this?

Lady Azura reached down by her feet and lifted a large cut-crystal bell. She shook it gently four times. Each time she directed the tinkling bell to a different corner of the room. “We wish to communicate with Ronald—”

“Ronald Amato,” Mrs. McHugh supplied.

“Ronald Amato, dear brother of Lynn,” Lady Azura continued in a monotone. “Move among us, Ronald. Come to us from the four corners of the Earth.”

Lady Azura stared straight ahead. Even in the shadowy candlelight, I could see her eyes were no longer focused. “Beloved Ronald, we ask that you join us.” She began to sway and hum.

“Ronald . . . Ronald . . .” She chanted his name over and over.

Then the table began to shake. Ever so slightly at first. A small tremor. But then it happened again. And again, until it was clear that the table was moving on its own.

Mrs. McHugh's eyes flew open. Her hands still grasped Lady Azura's. Lady Azura gazed blankly into the distance, as if present only in body and not in mind. I was totally freaked out for a moment before I realized what
I
was feeling: that pins-and-needles feeling had started. A familiar, prickly sensation crept along my skin. The muscles in my throat constricted. I wheezed softly, trying to suck in air.

“Is—is he here?” Mrs. McHugh whispered.

The table stopped shaking. I knew the answer before Lady Azura spoke.

“Ronald is with us.”

Crouched outside the room, I stared through the break in the curtain at the translucent form of a heavy, bald man in an ill-fitting suit.
Ronald.
He shimmered in the right corner behind Lady Azura.

How did she do it?
I wondered. Sure, I could see spirits, but only when they chose to show themselves. I couldn't just make them appear.

“Ronnie, oh, dear Ronnie.” Tears streamed down Mrs. McHugh's cheeks.

“Ronald, we thank you for joining us,” Lady Azura said, her voice low. “How have you been?”

She paused and turned her gaze to the left corner of the room, behind Mrs. McHugh. “Ah . . . he misses you . . . very much.”

“Oh, Ronnie, I miss you so dearly.” Mrs. McHugh tried unsuccessfully to control her sobs. “Please, can you ask him what happened the day of the car accident?”

Lady Azura nodded. “What happened on the day of the accident?” Once again, she directed her question to the opposite corner from where Ronald's spirit hovered. I couldn't figure it out. Why wasn't she talking
to
him?

I'm sorry, Lynnie . . . I should have never tried to make that phone call . . . it was dark and raining . . . should've been watching the road . . . took my hands off the wheel
, Ronald replied.

“He says it wasn't his fault,” Lady Azura told Mrs. McHugh.

The woman raised her head. “Oh, I'm so glad. I knew it couldn't have been his fault he swerved off the road. So he didn't mean to run over the cows?”

“Cows?” Lady Azura seemed confused for a moment. She gazed intently into the empty left corner.

Doesn't she see him?
I wondered.

Ooooh, Lynnie . . . I saw the cows . . . like shadows along the road . . . I swerved to avoid the car to my left . . . I made a choice . . . rammed into them . . . but then the car spun . . .
Ronald let out a wail of regret, his words fading in and out as he relived the night of his death.

Lady Azura continued to stare into the wrong corner. “He says he never saw the cows until it was too late. He is leaving us now, but he says he is at peace.” She dropped Mrs. McHugh's hands and heaved a huge sigh, as if drained. “He's gone.”

She was right about one thing. Ronnie had left.

She's a fake
, I thought, holding back a giggle. Suddenly I found the séance funny. She totally made the whole thing up. She couldn't see or hear Ronald.

Then the realization washed over me. I pressed my fingernails into my palms.

Lady Azura hadn't heard one word that spirit said.

But
I
had.

His voice. I'd heard his voice.

I replayed the séance in my mind. I had seen Ronald—and heard him
speaking
. Questions whirled about my brain. I'd been seeing spirits since I was in preschool. But never—
never
—had I heard one speak. Not to me. Not to anyone. I hadn't even considered that they could speak. I just assumed they couldn't.

Footsteps shuffled in my direction. The purple fabric, separating me from Lady Azura and Mrs. McHugh, fluttered. I pushed open the front door. I grabbed my bike from the bottom of the porch stairs and pedaled onto the street.

Why was I hearing them now? Was it only Ronald I could hear? Or could I suddenly hear all of them?
The
idea made me shudder. Fear tightened its fingers around me, squeezing my ribs.

“Sara! Hey, Sara!”

I turned to see Lily, standing by a row of periwinkle hydrangea plants, wildly waving both arms as if guiding a small plane in for landing. She wore a navy-and-white-checked sundress and her hair fell in two loose braids. A dark-haired woman crouched alongside her, pulling weeds. A little girl dug nearby with a small plastic shovel and sang an off-key version of “You Are My Sunshine.” Two boys played tag on the lawn.

But my brain was still puzzling over the séance.

“Hey, Sara! Where you going?” Lily called to me.

I stopped my bike and hesitated. The leap from Mrs. McHugh's dead brother to this joyful family was enormous.

“You're it!” The older of the two boys suddenly slapped my bare arm then raced across the yard.

“Go! Go get him!” cried his younger brother. Both boys had thick ebony hair and elfin features. “Run!” He tugged my hand.

I jumped off my bike and sped after the older boy, still holding the younger boy's sweaty hand. Both boys
shrieked with laughter as we darted around the yard. It wasn't hard to tag him. “Gotcha!” I cried.

“Again! Again!” cried the younger boy.

“Later, Jake.” Lily appeared by my side. “Mom told you and Joey to go inside and have some juice. Sam's in there.” She intertwined her fingers with mine and pulled me away from her brothers. “I was wondering when I'd see you again. I wanted to come by, but my mom said it was rude to barge in. She said you needed time to settle. Are you settled yet?”

“I guess.” I smiled. Lily's energy warmed even the thick summer air.

The woman behind Lily stood and brushed dirt from her jeans. I knew she was Lily's mom. They looked liked clones. “Hi,” she said simply. Her open gaze enveloped me like a hug. “I'm Beth Randazzo. You don't happen to know anything about soil acidity, do you?”

I shook my head. “Never even heard of it.”

“The people at the plant store say that's the problem with the hydrangeas to the right of the door. Not enough acid in the soil, so no blooms. But what am I supposed to do?” She raised her hands in mock surrender.

“We could pour orange juice or lemonade on them,” Lily suggested eagerly. “Those are acidic.”

Mrs. Randazzo's eyes brightened. “We could have a lemonade stand this afternoon, then toss the extra there.” She turned to the little girl on the ground. “Cammie, want to do a lemonade stand with Mommy?”

“Yes!” Cammie cried.

“Lemonade stand, girls?” she asked us.

“I can't. I have to go to the store,” I said apologetically.

“That's right.” Mrs. Randazzo flushed. “Your family must be so busy, moving in and all. I wanted to be one of those women who brings a pie the first day. I thought about it too. I just wish I knew how to make a good pie. Please apologize for me. Tell your mother I'll come by tomorrow.”

“She's not here.” I paused. “She died a long time ago. I live with my dad.”