Search for the Dead Page 15

  “But this project is his own, right? Not part of the company?”

  “Yes. Still, from what I understand, he’s given about ninety-eight percent of his attention and energy to the company, at the expense of the rest of his life. Witness this house.” Abby waved her hand around vaguely. “He’s owned it for, like, ten years, and you see how much he’s accomplished with it. I’ve gotten more done than he ever did, in a few months.”

  “You should be glad that he has something he cares about that much. And he’s a guy—they don’t think about things like making a place pretty, as long as the plumbing and heating work.”

  “I suppose. Dad wasn’t exactly into home repair either, was he?”

  “Not without a lot of nudging from me, and then I practically had to sit next to him and hand him the right tools and tell him what a wonderful job he was doing. Sometimes I had to wonder how he managed when he left the house without me. But to his credit, he’s been washing the dishes for thirty years.”

  “Not a bad trade-off. Actually I like working on the house, making or fixing things with my hands. I like looking at something tangible that I’ve accomplished. I used to joke about how I felt like I was touching things that people touched a century or more before me, and that kind of connected us. Of course, that was before those people started showing up in my life.”

  “But you still don’t see random people?” Rebecca asked. “I mean, like people who lived in this house before you? Surely somebody must have experienced something intense here, over more than a century. You know, death, childbirth, that kind of thing.”

  “Not that I’ve seen, Mom. That’s not to say it didn’t happen, just that I’m not tuned to that frequency. So far I can see only those people who are my ancestors. And we have a whole lot of them in Massachusetts.”

  “How many is a lot?”

  “I’ve identified a few hundred lineal ancestors, going back twelve generations, and most of them lived in this state.”

  “Oh, my God, sweetie! Things must get pretty crowded in your head!”

  “But it doesn’t seem to work like that. I don’t see all of them, just a few, and certainly not all at once. Mostly the unhappy ones, which is too bad. I wonder why pain outlives happiness?”

  “Maybe it’s a survival thing?” Rebecca said tentatively. “I mean, happiness is nice, but it’s not essential to surviving. Now, if something makes you sad or terrified, you’re more likely to avoid it in the future, and therefore live longer. Wonder if anybody suffered from depression, hundreds of years ago?”

  “I think most people were more worried about where their next meal was coming from than about being sad. We’re spoiled these days—we worry far too much about feeling happy.”

  “Because we’ve worked out the basic survival issues. Well, in this country, anyway. And that’s where we are. So, is there anything else you think you should show me before I head home?”

  Abby was torn: she wanted to spend more time with her mother, but she also wanted to move forward on this psychic research slash experiment project. She wasn’t sure why she was so obsessed with it. Why couldn’t she just slow down and smell the roses?

  Because she wasn’t built that way. She wanted answers, so she could move on with her life. With Ned, of course, but what if a large part of their attraction was based on this strange link they shared? What if they finally understood it and their whole connection evaporated? Did she want to risk that?

  “Abby?” Her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “You’ve already given me my assignment: search for any other family heirlooms and see if they, well, speak to me. Is there anything else you want me to do?”

  “Just keep an open mind, I guess. Whatever this is, it can be kind of subtle, and it’s easy to ignore if you choose to. Kind of like a low-grade fever, with a few spikes here and there.”

  Rebecca nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. Did you ever think we’d be having a conversation like this?”

  “About which dead people we could see? No, I didn’t. I’m glad you’re not totally freaked out about it.”

  “Well, sweetie, I trust your intelligence, and I’m guessing Ned’s smarter than you are, although maybe in different ways, so I’ll accept what you tell me. You will keep in touch, won’t you? I had the feeling there were things you weren’t telling me, but I didn’t want to pry. I know it’s been a difficult year for you, but I wasn’t always sure why.”

  “That’s on me, not you. I’ll try to do better, now that you know what’s going on. Up until now there was too much I couldn’t say.”

  Rebecca stood up briskly. “Well, then, I’d better go pack, not that I brought much. By the way, the bed was great. You can invite me again, any time.”

  “I’ll do that,” Abby said. “Although I don’t know how Dad will feel about it, if you start making regular visits. You know we’d love it if you bring him along.”

  “Don’t worry about him. Silly man—he always believes I know what I’m doing.”

  “It’s nice that he believes in you. Like Ned believes in me. It’s important.”

  “It certainly is.”

  “A half hour later Abby stood on the front stoop waving good-bye to her mother. The visit had gone better than she had expected or hoped, and she had to admire her mother’s “roll with the punches” attitude. My daughter sees ghosts? No problem. Oh, look, I see them too! Isn’t that nice—now we can share. It was weirdly comforting.

  So, now what? It was Thursday, and she would have Ellie at the end of the day. She felt a spurt of regret that her mother hadn’t had a chance to see Ellie again, but they’d already had a lot on their plate. Abby usually let Ellie set the tone of their visits. If Ellie asked a question about the things—or people—she saw, Abby would answer truthfully, but she wasn’t going to start up a conversation. Maybe that was cheating, just a bit, but she didn’t want to push her luck just when Leslie was coming to terms with Ellie’s gift..

  • • •

  Abby pulled into the waiting area at Ellie’s school a few minutes early and watched as the students started to emerge. Funny, she couldn’t exactly call them children, although chronologically they were. But they were so much more worldly-wise than she and her friends had been at that age. Had the world really changed so fast?

  Ellie came out and spotted her immediately. She said good-bye to a couple of girls, then hurried over to the car. “Hey, Abby.”

  “Hi, Ellie. How’s school going?”

  “The usual. We learned some stuff. We talked about some stuff. Lunch was awful. Do we have to talk about it?”

  “No. Except I do have to ask if you have any homework.”

  “Yeah, some. It should take about fifteen minutes to do it. Can we do something else?”

  “I don’t see why not. Oh, listen, I had an idea. My mom was here and spent a couple of nights, and I realized the guest room looked pretty shabby. So I’ve been stripping the wallpaper off and sanding a bit, and it’s ready to be renovated. But I thought I’d wait and ask you what you’d like to do with it.”

  “Me? Like, it’s kind of my room?”

  “That was the idea. But I retain veto power, in case you’re thinking about purple unicorns.”

  “Uh, seriously?” Ellie grinned at her. “What’re you thinking?”

  “For a start, wallpaper and paint—paint first, then wallpaper. But we need to pick out the wallpaper first in order to decide what paint color we want. Then we can worry about more furniture, and curtains and maybe a carpet, although the floor’s in pretty decent shape, so maybe a couple of throw rugs would do.”

  “Cool. Where do you go to buy wallpaper?”

  “Well, there are the big stores, and then there are the specialty shops, which are usually more expensive.”

  “I don’t want fancy. Let’s try a big store first and see what they have.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Abby drove to the same mall she and her mother had visited only days earlier, and they spent a happy hou
r looking at what was available. She was pleased to find that Ellie’s tastes ran to simple—very unchildlike, but Abby wasn’t going to argue about it. And no pink. They settled on a muted overall pattern of leaves and flowers, and some pale green paint for the woodwork.

  “Can I help paint?” Ellie asked as they loaded up the car with their purchases.

  “Have you ever painted before? I mean, a room, not a picture?”

  “No. But I can learn.”

  “Okay, but I need to set some rules. Number one, painting can be messy—the stuff tends to drip and spread and end up in places you don’t want it, like your hair. So you need to wear old clothes that you won’t mind messing up, and I’ll put down drop cloths and plastic or whatever so we won’t get paint drops all over the floor. Which I guess means it won’t happen today. But we can ask your mom if maybe you can come over one day this weekend and paint?” The ceiling was done first, anyway. She still needed to ask Ned to check the wiring for the outlets and the overhead light, so if he needed to fix anything she wouldn’t have to do a lot of touching-up later. He could do that, right?

  Ellie looked briefly disappointed but recovered quickly. “Okay, I guess. But we can look at the room, right? Maybe we can figure out what else it needs.”

  “Of course,” Abby told her.

  It took only a few minutes to reach the Lexington house. Ellie bounded out of the car as soon as Abby had turned off the engine, and stood waiting impatiently by the front door as Abby collected their bags and unlocked it. Ellie didn’t even stop for a snack, but went straight up the stairs. “It’s the one on the left, isn’t it?” Ellie called from the upstairs hall.

  “Yes.” Abby gathered up the paint and wallpaper and trudged up the stairs to join Ellie, who she found standing in the middle of the room. “What do you think?”

  “Nice bed,” Ellie said. “Your mom stayed in this room?”

  “Yes, and she helped me pick out the new bed.” Abby watched as Ellie sat on the bed and bounced tentatively, then more enthusiastically.

  “Nice,” she said. Then she stood up and moved toward the corner, and ran her hand lightly over the old plaster surface.

  Abby watched for a moment, then asked, “Are you looking for something, Ellie? Or someone?”

  Ellie gave her an oblique look. “Kind of.”

  “Are you finding anything?”

  Ellie shook her head. “Nope.”

  “Have you found someone that way, somewhere else?”

  Ellie shrugged. “Maybe. Abby, does your mom have this thing?”

  Abby didn’t need to ask what Ellie meant. “We think so, kind of. You met her on the Cape—did you get anything from her?”

  “Like, did we—darn, I don’t know what to call it. But, yeah. Remember?”

  “I do, when we were all together. And then she didn’t talk about it much. But as for what to call it, the three of us kind of decided to call it a contact. That way it covers all of our different experiences.”

  Ellie considered, then smiled. “So if we connect with something or someone when we’re together, we just yell ‘Contact!’?’

  Abby laughed. “I hadn’t thought about that, but it would work. But as for my mother, until recently I would have said that Mom couldn’t see or hear or feel anything from anyone, the way we can. But after what happened on the Cape she’s had time to get used to the idea, and I think she’s more open to it now. I think she is beginning to pick up something. But if you haven’t used it for all of your life, and didn’t even know it was there, it’s not easy to make it work, not right away. Does that make sense to you?”

  “Yeah, kinda. I didn’t feel anything when I shook hands with her, when she arrived. But later it was different. She did get some of it, right?”

  “Yes, when we all kind of boosted her together. But this week, when she was visiting, I took her to Sleepy Hollow in Concord and just let her wander, to see if she could find anything on her own. I didn’t even tell her that she was supposed to be looking. And she did find something, or someone, or maybe a whole lot of people jumbled together. So it looks like she’s got it, but it’s going to take practice.”

  “Is she okay with that?” Ellie asked. “Having it, I mean?”

  How to answer that? “Let me put it this way. My mother is a very practical person. She likes to solve problems and get things done. When I told her that I’ve got a psychic link to people who’ve been dead for a long time, she didn’t waste her time arguing with me, or trying to pretend that it was something else, like an illness. She kind of went, ‘Okay, that’s interesting. Now what do I do about it?’ But she doesn’t rush into anything, either. She knows about Ned and me, and you too. But I think she’s still thinking about it, and what it means.”

  “I wish Mom felt that way,” Ellie said.

  “I know. But you see, your mom doesn’t have it. That makes it really hard to understand. I’m sure she’d like to, but it’s just not there.”

  “And she can’t learn it?” Ellie asked wistfully.

  “I don’t think so. But, look, Ned and I are trying to learn as much as we can about this, so maybe we’ll find a way to activate whatever it is in the people who don’t seem to have it, or boost it if they have only a little. We’re all pretty new at this.” Abby hesitated a moment, wondering if she really wanted to open a new can of worms. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you think your brother has this thing?”

  Ellie didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. He’s still pretty little, and he’s a boy, so he’s interested in different things than me. But sometimes I get this, I don’t know, kind of flash, like he understands. I don’t play with him, you know—he’s a kid.”

  If Petey wasn’t showing signs yet, Abby wasn’t going to push it. “Thank you. I think your mom has enough on her plate without having to worry about Petey right now. So, what else would you like to do with this room?”

  They spent another half hour talking about curtains and colors and what furniture to add, since the nice bed looked very lonely. Then Abby declared that Ellie should get her homework out of the way while she started dinner. “Anything you want to eat?”

  “Hamburgers?” Ellie said hopefully.

  “Didn’t we just have those?”

  “Yeah, but Mom never makes them at home.”

  “Oh, all right. With what?”

  “No vegetables. Mom makes me eat vegetables all the time.”

  “They’re good for you—listen to her. How about lettuce on the hamburger, and a bun? And I think there’s a bag of potato chips somewhere.” Maybe it wasn’t the world’s best balanced meal, but at least Ellie would eat it.

  “Yeah, okay. Is there dessert?”

  “There can be. Let’s go see what we’ve got.”

  Ned came in not much later, and they made and ate dinner as though they were all characters in a vintage situation comedy. Abby had to stifle a laugh now and then: who would have thought they shared an unusual psychic bond? She tried to imagine an old sitcom with a screen crawl showing people’s thoughts, and had to stop herself from laughing. Please pass the potatoes, dear. (Why are we having friggin’ potatoes again? It’s the third time this week.) Of course, there might be people who wondered—if they knew—why they didn’t just skip speech altogether and communicate mind to mind. But she and Ned, and now Ellie, knew it didn’t work like that. And if these people who appeared to them came from the past, she and Ned couldn’t just pull out a chair and say, “Join us, talk to us.” It was something to think about. How many parallel planes were there, and where and how and why did they intersect? And how many people shared this ability and were scared to talk about it?

  It was approaching seven thirty when Ned said, “Well, kiddo, it’s time to get you home, or your mom will skin me alive. Gather up your homework and stuff, will you?”

  “I don’t think she’d do that,” Ellie said as she collected her scattered homework pages.

 
“Why not? She doesn’t know how to skin people?” Ned asked, smiling.

  “She could probably learn that. But she gets weird when you’re around. It’s like she really likes you but she’s angry at you, and kind of scared, all at the same time.”

  Ned lost his smile. “You can feel that?”

  “Yeah. Just watch her face. Why is she mad at you?”

  Ned glanced briefly at Abby, but she couldn’t offer any help. “Well, I’ve known your mother for a long time, and we’ve disagreed on some things along the way. But you said she likes me too, right?” When Ellie nodded, Ned added, “And I like her. She’s a good person. It’s just that right now she’s struggling with something in you that she’s only beginning to understand. It’s nothing that you did, and nothing she asked for. So, Ellie, can I ask you now to be nice to her? I don’t mean act sappy, just don’t push her buttons or argue with her just for the sake of it. It’ll work out in the end. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “I guess. But I thought grown-ups had things figured out, which is why they’re called grown-ups.”

  “I don’t want to discourage you, but growing up never really ends,” Ned said. “Okay, time to hit the road. Where’s your jacket?”

  “In the front hall, on a chair.” Ellie followed Ned toward the front door but then reversed course and came back to give Abby a hug.

  “Good night, Ellie,” Abby called out as Ellie and Ned walked out the door.

  “Bye,” Ellie’s voice drifted back, just before the door closed.

  Chapter 22

  After another day of home remodeling, Abby was ready to scream. She’d painted the guest room ceiling—which had required another trip to the box store because she hadn’t been thinking about the ceiling when she and Ellie had been there the day before. And she had had to get paint rollers and extension handles and paint trays. And she threw in some latex gloves because otherwise she knew she’d never get the stuff out from under her fingernails. She was heartily glad that someone had painted the ceilings in the front and back parlors more recently than those in the rest of the house—maybe to make it prettier to sell? When was it that Ned had bought it? Probably not long after his company had hit the big time, because any earlier and no bank would have given him a mortgage, and she didn’t think his parents could have managed to help him out.