The Discovery (20 page)

We all circle again and pray for Althea. Loreen repeats the instructions she gave to Mr. Farnsworth. Only this time, I feel it will take her to a higher place.

"Thank y'all for sendin' love and prayers to me. All I did was love dem children. I'd a ratha the massah beat up me instead of his own. I was wrong ta curse Massah's soul and put him in dat doll. When I think a all the trouble dat was caused..."

"Don't, Althea, you didn't know. You believe in things that we don't necessarily understand or agree with, but you did what you thought you had to for your charges," I say.

Farah wraps her arms around her new friend. "Althea, Kendall's right. You'd known nothing but hatred in your world. You didn't cause all of those accidents or fires or mishaps. You
were
the protective nanny those children needed."

Patrick hugs me from behind, both of us needing a bit of stability for a moment.

"Call out to your family, Althea," I tell her.

"I don't reckon I can remember 'em all," she says, wringing her hands.

"Call out to Robert then."

Althea lifts her eyes. "Robert? My boy?"

"Hey, look at that," Farah says, pointing up. "It's gorgeous. So bright and warm. I see my YaYa."

"Who's that?" I ask, unable to witness what she's seeing.

"My grandmama."

"Go to her, Farah," I say with tears in my eyes.

Althea stretches her arms out. "I see muh Robert. He's wavin' to me."

The tears cloud my vision, but I know I'm witnessing something made of pure beauty. I blink extra-hard and sniff. Althea wraps her arm around Farah, and my cheerleading friend waves at me. "Tell everyone I said bye," Farah says with a great big smile. "I'll be singing in heaven with the angels. And, boy, am I going to give them a run for their money."

I laugh through my tears as Farah winks at me.

The two figures nearly blend into one and then they disappear.

I slump into Patrick's arms and he holds on firmly to keep me from falling.

Celia walks over to me with Xander the Doll. "Did they go?"

Nodding, I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand. Then I reach for Xander. She hands him to me. He's light and airy and ... just a doll. There's a goofiness to him now, as well as in the expression on the stuffed bear with the crooked face. "I believe there's finally peace here."

Loreen places her hand on my shoulder. "We can go."

Fifteen minutes later, covered in dirt but no worse for the wear of our adventure, Loreen, Patrick, Becca, Celia, Xander the Doll, and I emerge from the secret tunnel. Mass and Patrick work at the knobs on the mantel to reverse the open-sesame we created. When the fireplace is resealed, we all look at one another.

"Man," Becca says. "That was intense."

"I'm sorry I missed it," Shelby-Nichole says sadly. "After what I dealt with at my house..."

"It's okay, hon. Really," I reassure her.

"What happened?" Father Mass asks.

I heave a sigh of sadness. "There are some dark stories in this town, Father. Tales that no one would believe if you told them. Ones that should be buried down deep to die with those that caused them. A nasty bit of Radisson's history was just revealed to us."

Becca looks scornful. "Yeah, but we have no real proof of what just happened other than some EVPs, maybe something on the video; it's mainly personal experiences that happened to y'all."

"The skeptics would eat us alive," I say. "A spiritual cleansing, dark figures from below, and two souls reaching their heavenly peace." I lift my eyes to Celia's. "What happened has no basis in science, but it was real. As real as us standing here."

My friend loops her arm through mine. "I know, Kendall. I believe you."

Father Mass reaches out and tweaks Xander the Doll's arm. "What about this fellow?"

"He's just a doll, Mass," Loreen says with a grin.

"Yep, that's all he is," I agree.

Celia and I go upstairs and carefully place Xander back into his case. I blow him a kiss because I know he won't cause any further trouble. The damned soul inside him found his just reward in the underworld.

"Do we tell Mr. Pfeiffer?" Celia asks.

"Nah ... he thinks we're a bunch of meddlesome kids. Let him keep thinking that. Things will change around here. The air in the house is already lighter. There won't be any more mischief attributed to old Xander here."

"So, we just let the legend of Xander the Doll continue," Celia states.

"Yeah, why not? Now it's a great town legend. The letters of forgiveness will keep coming in as long as the exhibit travels."

"What about correcting the history books about the Underground Railroad coming through here? We owe it to history." Celia has such passion for the subject.

"We promised Mr. Pfeiffer we wouldn't reveal any of our findings." I reach for my friend. "It's okay, Cel. We did what we were supposed to do."

She exhales noisily and relents. We back out of the room, relock the door, and slip down the stairs to meet up with the rest of the team. Becca, Patrick, and Shelby-Nichole have already packed up the equipment, so we're ready to go.

Patrick meets me at the bottom of the stairs and encircles me in a gigantic bear hug. I cling to him wearily, as I am totally spent.

"We done good here tonight," he whispers into my hair.

History might not ever know of our accomplishment, but we know.

W
ET SANDPAPER SWIPES ACROSS MY CHEEK
and I brush it away. It returns with more vigor and verve. I smack it again. It won't stop.

Slurp ... slurp ... slurp...

I open my eyes to discover Buckley curled up on my chest, licking my face. I pull his furry self up into my arms and kiss the crooked gray spot on his nose over and over and over again so he knows what it feels like to be smother-loved.

"Hi, baby kitty. Who's the baby kitty? You are. Yes, you are."

He blinks at me and keeps trying to lick me with his abnormally long tongue. Natalie meows from her spot at the bottom of the bed, none too happy that her beauty rest has been interrupted. Eleanor grunts her hello before flipping upside down next to me and burying her head in the covers. There's nothing better than waking up surrounded by so much love and trust. Especially after the roller coaster I rode last night.

I'm feeling more rested this morning than I do most Sundays after I pull off an intense ghost investigation. Then again, I didn't channel and I wasn't the one physically tossed around like poor Celia. Man, that girl's going to have some serious bruises this morning. That aside, I'm wicked proud of the work we did and how we helped Farah and Althea and released the nasty spirit of Mr. Farnsworth.

Rubbing Buckley's outstretched chin, I tell him, "I never want to deal with anything like that again. That was freaky scary. Yes, it was ... yes, it was..."

He just purrs, unaware of what I handled last night. Maybe there is something to voodoo, or vodoun, as Father Mass calls it.
Something
attached the soul of Phillip Farnsworth to that doll, and he'd been making trouble for the living ever since. In the end, it was bad. Very bad. Borderline demonic, and all I know is I want no part of it. No messing around with curses or charms or dolls where spirits or souls can be stored. Yikes! No way, man. Demonology is nowhere in my past, present, or future. I can't wait to get to church today and cleanse myself in the well of Father Mass's sermon and good old Communion.

After crawling out from the cat-laden covers, I strip to my undies, pad to the bathroom, and proceed to take the longest, hottest shower in the history of all showers. I soap my hair twice with the Aveda rosemary mint shampoo, careful to get every last clod of Georgia red clay out of the follicles—was too damn tired to do it when I came home last night. I don't want
any
reminder of that dark tunnel and what happened there.

The freshly washed towel is soft on my wet skin, which is a little sore from all the climbing, crawling, and saving Celia from a sinkhole. I wrap it around me like a sarong and then drag the paddle brush through my hair. Using my forearm, I clear off the steam from the mirror.

"
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!
"

I jump.

I scream again.

I drop the brush.

Anona stands behind me with a glower on her beautiful face.

"Don't do that to me!" I fuss. "Honestly, that's like a horror-film move, Anona."

She just stares at me, unblinking.

I turn. "What? What now?"

Her lips part and a faint smile spreads. She holds a hand out to me. "You've done well, Kendall."

"Thanks, A," I say, returning the smile.

"There is more."

"More? More what?" I don't want to go back into that under-the-fireplace tunnel full of spiders and bugs, skeletons, and God knows what else we didn't discover. I certainly never want to witness the chilling black figures of death pulling another soul into the depths of hell again. That's what it had to be. I witnessed a descent into hell, no doubt about it.

"You will hear from him," she tells me and then fades away.

I yell out at nothing. "Him who? What now? It better not be that Farnsworth guy, Anona!"

There's a knock at the bathroom door and then Mom peeks in. "Everything okay in here, Kendall?"

"Yeah, Mom," I say, retrieving my brush. "You know me..."

"Yeah, sweetie, I do. That's why I asked."

I stick my tongue out and then smile. Mom just winks. The door clicks shut and I stamp my foot. "Thanks a lot, Anona," I mutter.

Great; another vague ghost leaving me a coded message. I swear, when I die (at a very old age, thankyouverymuch), if I need to come back through the veil and contact someone, I'm going to speak to them in clear, concise, complete sentences, not puzzle pieces that don't fit together no matter how hard you jam them. "Ah, well ... it is what it is."

I step out of the bathroom and head to my room. I've got some churching to do.

Right in the middle of Holy Eucharist, my cell phone starts playing the theme song from
Ghostbusters.
Why in the world did I let Celia talk me into letting that be my ring tone? I cringe as I pull the device from my purse and try to silence it. Every eye in the sanctuary shifts to me, and I turn nineteen shades of crimson and wish a sinkhole would open up and swallow me. Nah, better not wish that. It just might happen.

"Kendall, I told you to turn that blasted thing off," Mom hisses under her breath.

"Sorry," I whisper.

Father Mass stifles his mirth and continues with the service.

I click off the phone and stash it deep into the black hole that is my purse, although my psychic senses tell me it's something imperative. I mean, my friends know I go to church at this time, so they wouldn't dare call, and Patrick's not going to buzz me up now since he's still unconscious on Father Mass's couch after a long night of investigating followed by some much needed Kendall-cuddle time.

It's totally not appropriate of me to be thinking of our make-out session while in the house of the Lord, my place of respite from the long night and brushes with pure evil. I shift my attention to Father Mass.

"Beloved in the Lord: our Savior Christ, on the night before he suffered, instituted the sacrament of his body and blood as a sign and pledge of his love, for the continual remembrance of the sacrifice of his death, and for a spiritual sharing in his risen life. For in these holy mysteries we are made one with Christ, and Christ with us; we are made one body in him, and members one of another. Having in mind, therefore, his great love for us, and in obedience to his command, his church renders to Almighty God our Heavenly Father never-ending thanks for the creation of the world, for his continual providence over us, for his love for all mankind, and for the redemption of the world by our Savior Christ, who took upon himself our flesh, and humbled himself even to death on the cross, that he might make us the children of God by the power of the Holy Spirit, and exalt us to everlasting life."

It's like Father Mass is speaking directly at me, knowing I need to connect with my religion after what we observed last night. I do believe God protects me in my work. Why else would I have been given this gift if not to
truly
assist those who need me the most? Still, there's an overall sense of ickiness from our investigation that only some one-on-one time with the Almighty can cure.

Father Mass continues. "But if we are to share rightly in the celebration of those holy mysteries and be nourished by that spiritual food, we must remember the dignity of that holy sacrament. I therefore call upon you to consider how Saint Paul exhorts all persons to prepare themselves carefully before eating of that bread and drinking of that cup."

The words
holy mysteries
are emphasized by my priest and this too I feel is for my benefit. There are many mysteries in this world that many "normal" people don't see or even know about. Some things that no man is privileged to know no matter how much he tries. This is why we have faith. Faith in ourselves. Faith in our family. Faith in our friends. Faith in our beliefs.

I believe I did right last night because I had faith in Althea and faith in Farah. I also had faith in the abilities that have been given by my Creator. This is my new way of thinking. My new purpose in life that Oliver and the counselors taught me.

The usher indicates that our row can go forward for Communion. I follow Mom and Dad with Kaitlin right behind me. We walk up the aisle to the altar and kneel on the red velvet bench. Father Mass brings the cup and the bread to us. I watch as my sister takes Communion. She makes a face at the taste of the unleavened bread and then sips at the wine like it's poison. I can't help but roll my eyes at her. Such a brat.

Father Mass stops in front of me. "The body of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was given for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life. Take and eat this in remembrance that Christ died for thee, and feed on him in thy heart by faith, with thanksgiving." He lifts the cup to my mouth and I drink down the too-too sweet wine. "The blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was shed for thee, preserve thy body and soul unto everlasting life. Drink this in remembrance that Christ's blood was shed for thee, and be thankful." Then he pauses and places his hand on my head. "Be thankful, Kendall, for you are blessed and you will be called to service," he whispers.