Seven Turns: A Ghost Story/A Love Story

Ignacio offered to walk Cally back to the main house, but she assured him nothing could happen to her in such a short distance, on such a beautiful night. Katarina took a key off her key ring and handed it to Cally. “This opens the side door, the one with the cardinal window, facing the shade garden and the street,” she said.

“My own key to Vale House,” Cally said. “I guess I really am staff now!”

Katarina laughed. “For now, you are! But do me a favor, would you? Please check, before you go upstairs, and make sure the Captain has not fallen asleep on the front porch. Usually Bethany does this before she goes home for the night. We don’t want him to spend all night out there in the damp air.”

Cally promised she would, and exchanged hugs with the couple on their doorstep. Then she slipped quietly into the dark, quiet space between the house and Main Street. Happy frogs and crickets in the branches overhead filled the night air with a deafening cacophony, and the scent of jasmine on the cooling breeze was almost overpowering. She passed by the little side porch, the stained glass window in its door glowing soft yellow and red, and turned the corner round the side of the house. She could hear snoring from here, and laughed quietly to herself as she headed for the front porch steps.

A waxing gibbous moon hung in a clear sky over the meadow. Only one of the horses was visible at the moment, the white one, standing like such a perfect picture in the moonlight that Cally found herself wishing her talents had run to painting rather than writing. The painted version of the scene would be more perfect because it would not include the cars parked between the house and the fence.

A shadowy figure was walking between the cars. For a moment it made Cally think of the figure she had seen near the gate during the storm, but this figure was short and hunched over a cane. Cally realized it was only Rum, Ian’s neighbor passing through on his way to his “other job.” Cally waved at him and he waved his cane over his head at her, walking with perfect ease without it until he passed out of sight down Gardens Road.

The Captain was sitting, sound asleep, in his favorite wicker chair on the porch. Cally touched his shoulder gently and he woke with a start. It took him a moment to orient himself and recognize her. “Oh, hello!” he said then, grinning cheerfully as if he hadn’t just been roused from sleep. He raised his flask toward the moon above the meadow and said “Peaceful night.” It sounded like a benediction as much as an observation.

“Quite different from the other night,” she agreed. She stood with him awhile, declining his offer of a sip from his flask. Then he let her help him to his feet and open the front door for him. Switching off the porch light, Cally locked the front door behind her as the Captain made his way toward the back hall. She felt very much indeed like official Vale House staff.

Lights were still on in the parlor, and Cally looked in to see Nell sitting hunched forward on one of the sofas with a remote control in her hand, deeply absorbed in something she was watching on the old console television. This reminded Cally of the preacher she had last seen sitting in this room, and she wondered what had ever become of him. She slipped past quietly and headed up the stairs.

When she reached the Gallery she heard voices rising from the dining room below and peered over the railing. Ian and Foster were seated at the dining table. The lamp from the desk in the Hall had been placed in the center of the table, amid a sea of papers spread between the two men. Foster was saying, “If you will only look at this, Ian, you’ll see that it completely makes sense.”

Ian noticed Cally’s presence, looking up to wave to her, but Foster was on a roll and clearly wanted Ian’s full attention. He tapped a paper in front of him. “Here,” he said. “You could double your net worth in only three years, don’t you see?”

“I don’t think...” Ian began, and Cally didn’t think that was the kind of conversation she should be privy to, so she withdrew from the railing and put her head inside door of the Daffodil room instead. Bethany was snoring softly, as was Cyndi Lauper on her knee.

She returned to the hallway, disappointed she did not see George near the butler’s desk or at the gallery railing. Unlocking the Rose Room door, she went inside to find her bed had been made properly, with all the throw pillows back in place. She sighed and rolled her eyes. She couldn’t even imagine who might have done that, now. Bethany could not have, Kat knew not to, and Joan certainly would never do anything resembling housework. Maybe it had been Ignacio? “Or maybe one of Georgie’s other ghost friends, one who is good at moving things,” she said, meaning it to be sarcasm, but not really sure it was.

Still, she was surprised to find it didn’t bother her as much anymore. As long as they left her underwear drawer alone, anyway. She went to the dresser to peek into the drawers; that was when she saw it. Someone had opened her laptop on the desk and turned it on. The chat program was running.

“Damn it!” She flung open the door and looked up and down the hall, seeing no one to chastise, human or ghostly, which was fortunate for them, she thought.

Muttering many unladylike words, she sat down at the desk and reviewed the text scrolling by in the chat program. It was a series of inquiries from Emerald, all of them along the lines of “Are you there?” “Is everything alright?” and, “Are you OK?” Cally typed in a quick response to reassure her friend.

Cally>> I’m fine! I was just out.

Emerald<< Thank goodness! I was worried. You opened the chat but never said anything.

Cally>> It wasn’t me. I don’t know who it was. But when I find out, they are dead meat.

Emerald<< You’re right to be upset. Nobody should be messing with your computer.

Cally>> I have a feeling you can tell me who it might have been.

Emerald<< What? How would I know?

Cally>> Emerald. Why didn’t you tell me?

Emerald<< Tell you what? I really don’t know who did it.

Cally>> Why didn’t you tell me George is a ghost?

Emerald<< Oh that.

Cally>> Yes. That.

Emerald<< I’m sorry.

Cally>> That’s what he said.

Emerald<< I guess things went faster than I expected.

Cally>> What things? What were you expecting? What the hell, Emerald, have you set me up for something here and not told me? Why would you do that to me!

Instead of feeling calmer, as she usually did when she chatted with Emerald, Cally felt herself growing more and more agitated. In the back of her mind she had been expecting Emerald to be the one who could explain everything to her in her usual, perfectly reasonable manner. Now she began to realize the only explanation she was going to get was not going to be anything resembling reasonable. She felt betrayed, but then, it wouldn’t be the first time she had discovered someone she trusted was not as reliable as they seemed to be.

Emerald<< I can explain. This will take a while. How tired are you?

Cally>> Damn it! You know what I hate most about this?

Emerald<< What?

Cally>> My daughter was right! I was crazy to run out into the night following the advice of someone I don’t even know!

Emerald<< Cally you do know me. And I know you. That’s why I thought this would be perfect for you!

Cally>> How can this be perfect? I don’t even know what’s going on here! How is that perfect?

Emerald<< I figured it would all become clear in its own good time. And Georgie promised to help. But something is apparently going on that they didn’t intend.

Cally>> Who is “they”?

Emerald<< Georgie and his friends. And a few others.

Cally>> How many ghosts are there here? Or do I have to figure that out for myself, too?

Emerald<< They aren’t all ghosts.

Cally>> Yes, so George tells me.

Cally pulled her hands off the keyboard. She felt dizzier than she had when she’d realized George was a ghost, when she’d had her first conversation with him. Emerald had been such a good friend for such a long time. She had confided everything in her. They had laughed and cried together about so many things over so many years. Under normal circumstances, she would be telling Emerald right now all about her extremely bizarre past couple of days, but circumstances were no longer normal. Now text was scrolling by on the screen saying “Cally please listen to me!” and Cally just wanted to slam the computer shut. Maybe her daughter was also right that she should just give up on the idea of writing and go live in the guest bedroom and help pay the bills with a series of copy editing gigs.

Emerald<< Cally I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you!

Cally>> Where have I heard that before?

Emerald<< :(

Cally>> Oh, hell, Emerald. Whoever you are. It’s not your fault. I’m the one who’s stupid enough to get myself into these kinds of situations.

Emerald<< You’re not stupid. I am on your side. But what was I supposed to say? “Oh, just go and meet my dear old friend who is the ghost of a gay pirate. And by the way, you might be chosen to be the guardian of the gateway - it’ll be fun!”?

Cally>> Gateway? And pirates! Who is a pirate?

Emerald<< Georgie

Cally>> He’s just a perfectly ordinary teenager.

Emerald<< A four hundred year old teenager

Cally>> And what about you? Emerald with no last name or hometown? Of whom I have never seen a real photograph. And never asked for one because I trusted you. Are you a ghost, too?

Emerald<< Not exactly

Cally>> JUST WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

Emerald<< It’s a long story.

Cally>> I seem to be owed a lot of long stories these days!

Emerald<< You’re right. And I will tell mine to you. You can even write a book about it, if you want. Though that makes me nervous. Will you let me type it all out for you and send it to you in the morning? My story, that is.

Cally>> Fine

Emerald<< Suffice it to say, for now, that I exist in the wires.

Cally>> You’re a bot, then?

Emerald<< LOL. Oh, please, I hope it hasn’t come to that. That would be a fate much worse than being a ghost!

Cally>> Ok, Emerald, listen. I am going to try to get some sleep. You write me a story, and I promise I’ll read it.

Emerald<< Thank you. Cally, be careful.

Cally>> Too late.

Emerald<< No, I mean. There’s still the question of who opened your computer. Nobody I know of would do that. Something is going on, and I’m worried about you. Please be careful.

Cally>> Apparently caution is not my strong suit.

Emerald<< Oh, and Cally?

Cally>> What

Emerald<< Sarcasm does not become you.

Cally>> Thank you for that insight. Goodnight, Emerald.

Emerald<< Sweet dreams, my friend.

Cally closed the laptop gently, because she knew if she slammed it as hard as she wanted to, she would no longer have even the means of trying to make a living, and would definitely have to go and live with someone more practical than she was. She crawled into the bed, throwing the little rose shaped pillows into the corner of the room. Switching off the light, she drew the covers over her head and cried herself to sleep for the first time in years.

At some point during the night, she thought she felt someone standing by her bedside, and heard them muttering “There, there, dear.” She felt her hair being brushed back from her brow by cool, smooth fingers, and the covers being arranged around her chin. She was too tired to wake up enough to determine whether it was a dream, or a ghost, or what.