Gifted: Finders Keepers

  ‘Ken, are you there?’

  ‘Oh sure. I’m sorry, I guess I was daydreaming.’

  ‘The voices?’ Amanda asked sympathetically.

  ‘You know how it is,’ he mumbled. She really did too, because of that brief period when she’d taken over his body. He still felt a little embarrassed when he thought about it.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I was just wondering . . . are you going to that seance tonight?’

  ‘I’m kind of thinking about it,’ Ken admitted.

  ‘Would you like some company?’

  He was surprised. ‘You?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘And you’d be doing me a favour. I’m a little nervous about going into the hospital on Sunday. I ’m trying to keep busy so I won’t think about it.’

  Ken considered it. He’d actually been feeling a little warmer towards Amanda lately. She seemed less snobby than she used to be, more interesting. And earlier today, when they’d talked about their gifts, he almost felt like they understood each other.

  Hey man, what’s going on?

  It was Jack. Hang on a sec, Ken told him, and spoke into the phone.

  ‘OK. I’ll come to your house and collect you at seven thirty.’

  After he hung up, he wondered if maybe he should have told her to meet him somewhere. Picking her up at her house made this seem almost like a date.

  You’ve got a date? Who with?

  He’d forgotten Jack was there.

  Amanda Beeson, he replied. Only it’s not really a date. We’re just going to the same place.

  But I heard you – you said you’d pick her up at home. That makes it a date.

  Ken grinned.

  Well, maybe that’s not so terrible . . .

  I had a feeling you guys would hook up eventually. Where are ya going?

  To a seance. Where people try to make contact with the dead.

  He could hear Jack chortle. You’re kidding. You believe in that garbage?

  I just thought it might be interesting.

  Yeah, OK. Hey, you seen Lucy lately?

  Yes, today. In the gym.

  Even from beyond the grave, he could hear the wistfulness in Jack’s tone.

  Is she hanging out with anyone?

  I’m not sure. I think maybe Simon Dowell is into her.

  Simon Dowell? That scumbag?

  Why do you call him a scumbag?

  Don’t you know his reputation? I used to think he was making up the stories he used to tell about all the girls he’s been with, but maybe it’s true. Anyway , I don’t want him messing around Lucy – he’s bad news.

  There’s not much you can do about it, Ken pointed out.

  Yeah, I know. But you could.

  Ken’s heart sank. What do you mean?

  Could you keep an eye on her? Distract her?

  And how am I supposed to do that? Jack, you don’t want me to hook up with Lucy?

  No, no, nothing like that. Be kind of a big brother to her. Just – just hang out with her a little. Let her know what a jerk Dowell is. C’mon, Ken, do this for me. Please?

  OK, OK.

  And don’t let her know I put you up to this! She’ll think I’m jealous and it’ll just make her more conceited.

  Yeah, yeah, whatever. Listen, I’ve got to go – we’ll talk later.

  Jack ‘hung up’, or whatever it was he did to cut the communication. Ken flopped down in a chair. Now what? Would he really have to hang out with Lucy? He supposed it wouldn’t be the end of the world, to get together with her once or twice and warn her off Simon Dowell. But what if Amanda saw him with Lucy?

  He had to smile. Amanda wouldn’t care, would she? It wasn’t like they had a relationship.

  Not yet.

  The address for the seance turned out to be an apartment building. Examining the announcement again, Ken saw that there was a number next to the address – forty-six.

  ‘I guess this must be the apartment number,’ he told Amanda.

  Amanda was looking at the list of names next to buttons outside the front entrance. ‘There’s no name next to forty-six.’

  Ken pressed the button. He expected to hear a voice asking him to identify himself. Instead, a buzzer indicated that the door had been unlocked.

  Silently, they went inside. To the left of the entranceway, there was a lift. Inside, buttons were labelled one to five. Ken pressed four.

  The lift doors opened on a hallway. They didn’t have to look at the numbers on the doors to find number forty-six – one of them opened immediately.

  The figure inside the door spoke sweetly. ‘Welcome. You may enter.’

  Ken felt Amanda take his hand, and he couldn’t blame her. The woman looked very unusual. She wore a long, flowing robe, dark green with little golden sparkly things all over it. Over her head was some kind of veil – layers of silky stuff – and it completely covered her face. Tiny slits gave her the ability to see them, but they couldn’t make out her face at all.

  They went inside the apartment. The interior wasn’t as spooky as its inhabitant. There was a living-room area, with a sofa and a couple of armchairs. Just off the living room was the dining area with a round table, but it wasn’t being used for dining at the moment. Three people were sitting there – two women and a boy. Ken didn’t recognize any of them.

  ‘Join us,’ the veiled woman said as she went over to the table. There were three empty chairs. Ken took the seat next to the boy and Amanda sat beside one of the women. Then the veiled woman sat down.

  ‘I am Cassandra,’ she said. ‘I am your medium. You will talk to me, and I will attempt to reach the spirits you wish to contact. But I must warn you, your first attempt at contact may not be successful. It takes effort and practice to communicate with the spirit world. You must be determined and you must be patient. Much depends on the need and willingness of your loved one in the spirit world to speak to you. They may need to be convinced, and I will try to convince them. But there are no guarantees.’

  Amanda spoke. ‘Will we get our money back if we can’t make contact?’

  The woman turned towards her. ‘Have I asked you for any money? I do not charge for my work. That would be wrong. I have a gift, and it is my responsibility and obligation to share this gift freely.’

  That was interesting, Ken thought. So this seance thing wasn’t a scam. Maybe this medium, Cassandra, could actually do what he could do. The only difference was that she probably had more control of her gift. And she seemed to be pleased to have it.

  ‘Before we begin attempting contact,’ she continued, ‘we need to establish a connection among ourselves. Each of you will introduce yourself, and explain what you hope to accomplish here.’ She turned to Amanda. ‘You may begin. What is your name?’

  ‘I’m Amanda.’ She hesitated. ‘Do I have to give my last name too?’

  ‘No, that won’t be necessary – not if you don’t want to,’ the medium said smoothly. ‘We respect each other’s privacy here. Why have you come to the seance, Amanda? What do you hope to accomplish?’

  Ken looked at his classmate worriedly. Had she guessed she would have to say something? What would happen if she told them she just came to keep him company? Would she be thrown out?

  But Amanda was cool. ‘I’ve been thinking about my great-grandmother lately. I’d like to talk to her.’

  ‘For any particular reason?’ the medium asked.

  ‘Well, I never knew her – she died before I was born – and I just want to say “hi”.’

  Ken gave his name. ‘Um, there’s no one in particular I’m trying to reach. I was just wondering if any of my ancestors wanted to contact me.’

  The medium appeared to accept that. ‘All right.’ She turned to the woman who was sitting next to Amanda. ‘And you are . . . ?’

  ‘Margaret.’ She spoke barely above a whisper. ‘I want to talk to my mother.’ There was a catch in her voice.

  Ken looked at her. She wasn’t very old – just in her twe
nties, he’d guess. Which meant her mother must have died young. She certainly looked depressed. She had long, limp brown hair, with a fringe that hung over the thick brown-framed glasses that covered her eyes. She was pasty-pale.

  The medium must have picked up on the sadness in her tone. She responded gently.

  ‘Did you lose your mother recently, Margaret?’

  ‘Yes. She died only two weeks ago. I – I miss her so much!’

  ‘I understand,’ the medium said. ‘I hope we’ll be able to reach her. Next?’

  The woman sitting by Margaret looked completely different. First of all, she didn’t seem miserable at all. Her heavily made-up green eyes sparkled, and her face was framed by carefully styled silver-grey curls. Long dangly loops hung from her ears, and she wore an orange shawl over a purple dress.

  ‘I’m Dahlia,’ she said brightly. ‘At least, that’s my name now. I believe this is my fourth life, but it may be my fifth. In my previous reincarnations I’ve been called Maria, Constance, Genevieve—’

  The medium interrupted her. ‘Yes, well, we’ll call you by your current name. Why are you here, Dahlia?’

  ‘Well, my memory isn’t what it used to be,’ the woman said. ‘And I don’t want to forget all the friends I’ve made in my other lives. I ’d like to make contact with them and reminisce about old times.’

  ‘But how do you know they’re in the spirit world?’ the medium asked. ‘Perhaps, like you, they’ve been reincarnated too.’

  Dahlia shook her head. ‘No, very few people are like me. Oh, I’m not the only person in the world who has lived many times, but there aren’t many of us who have been regularly reincarnated. And if any of my old friends were alive in another shape or form, I’d know it. I’d feel it.’

  Ken wished he could see the medium’s expression. This woman sounded like a real nut. He glanced at Amanda, and then quickly looked away. He had to avoid making eye contact with her or they’d both start laughing out loud.

  Cassandra turned to the boy sitting next to Ken. ‘Would you like to introduce yourself?’

  ‘I’m Stevie Fisher.’ The boy sounded nervous. He was thin and fair-haired, and looked a couple of years younger than Ken.

  ‘Who would you like to contact, Stevie?’

  ‘My dad.’

  ‘When did your father die?’ the medium asked.

  ‘A couple of months ago. It was a car accident.’

  ‘And is there a particular reason you want to contact him?’

  Stevie nodded. ‘I have to ask him something.’

  ‘Yes?’ the medium prompted him.

  The boy brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. ‘Well, a few days before my father had his accident, I was in a shop with him. And my dad bought a lottery ticket. I don’t know why – he didn’t usually buy lottery tickets. Maybe he just felt lucky . . .’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘Go on,’ the veiled woman said.

  Stevie sighed.‘The day the winning numbers were announced, he was at work. He called home, all excited, and told my mother he’d won! And the jackpot was two million dollars!’

  Ken gasped. He knew about the weekly lottery, of course, but he’d never bought a ticket. And he’d never known or met anyone who had actually won it.

  Stevie continued. ‘But . . . he was in an accident on the way home. He died right away. And we don’t know where the ticket is.’

  ‘Maybe it was in his pocket,’ Ken suggested.

  ‘No, we thought of that. But the police only found his wallet.’

  ‘Maybe someone else found the ticket and took it,’ Dahlia said.

  Again Stevie shook his head. ‘No one ever claimed the prize. We think the ticket is somewhere in the house, but we’ve searched everywhere and we can’t find it.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ Dahlia said. ‘Who needs two million dollars anyway?’

  ‘We do,’ Stevie said simply. ‘Well, we don’t need that much, but we need money. you see, my father didn’t have any life insurance. Or any savings. I’ve got two little sisters and one of them isn’t even school age, so my mother has to stay at home and take care of her. When I get home I mind her, and Mom goes to clean other people’s houses. But she doesn’t make much money, and we can’t pay the rent on our house. The landlord says we have one more month, and then he’s throwing us out.’

  It was a long speech for a young boy, and it couldn’t have been an easy one for him to make. For a moment, everyone was silent.

  Finally, the medium spoke. ‘You want to ask your father where he put the lottery ticket.’

  Stevie nodded. ‘I have to help my family. I don’t want us to end up homeless.’

  Ken was overcome. What a burden for a kid to carry on his shoulders.

  ‘Then we need to reach your father,’ Cassandra said. ‘And we have to make contact within a month. I suggest we get started.’ She gazed around the table.

  ‘Please join hands and close your eyes. The seance begins.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  EVERYONE’S EYES WERE CLOSED – except Amanda’s. She didn’t want to miss a thing.

  Ken had obeyed the medium’s instructions, which was fortunate for Amanda, because he wouldn’t be able to see how she was staring at him. He really was so good-looking. And even though he didn’t play soccer any more, he still looked like an athlete. She’d been after him for ages, and now they could be on the verge of a real relationship! A happy little thrill rushed through her. Even the prospect of a hospital stay and an operation didn’t upset her as much now.

  The medium spoke.

  ‘We have come together to seek advice from those who have left us behind,’ she intoned.

  Amanda envisioned herself sitting up in bed wearing her new lacy pale blue nightgown, her hair pulled back with a matching headband, smiling as Ken walked into her room. Bearing armfuls of flowers, of course. Maybe a box of chocolates. She didn’t mind giving up her tonsils at all if it meant getting a relationship with Ken started.

  As for this seance thing, she wasn’t sure what she thought about it. The medium looked spooky, but she spoke nicely to everyone. That Dahlia woman, with her crazy clothes and make-up, was seriously goofy. Margaret . . . she was just plain sad. And not just because her mother had recently died. She looked terrible, in a bulky grey jumper that was too big for her. It hung over a long, wrinkled, faded black skirt. You couldn’t even tell what kind of figure she had. And that hair – had the woman ever been to a salon? OK, maybe not lately, because she was mourning her mother . . . but that hair looked like it had never been touched by professional hands. And those glasses she wore were absolutely gross. Nobody wore tortoiseshell frames any more.

  The medium was still talking. ‘We know there is a world beyond our own, a world of mystical mystery and energy which we can never understand. And in this spirit world, there is great wisdom.’

  Amanda tuned out again. What about that kid, Stevie? She had serious doubts about him. He might look young and innocent, but that story of his was just too crazy to be true.

  Cassandra continued, in a soft monotone. ‘We seek you, oh spirits who dwell beyond our comprehension. We bid you come closer to accept our pleas.’

  Yeah, whatever, Amanda thought. She was still more interested in scoping out Stevie. What was his deal? Why would he make up a story like that? She couldn’t think of a reason. Unless, maybe, he was hoping someone somewhere had lost a winning lottery ticket, and some dead person would tell Cassandra where it was. It seemed like a far-fetched scheme though.

  Cassandra’s voice rose. ‘I am being contacted! A spirit from the world beyond wishes to connect with one of our group.’

  Dahlia let out a little squeal. ‘Is he on a horse?’

  ‘No . . . and it’s not a “he”, it’s a female spirit.’

  Amanda caught the flash of disappointment on Stevie’s face.

  ‘Maybe it’s my former mother-in-law,’ Dahlia mused. ‘Is she wearing a hoop skirt? It was during the Civil War. I was a Yankee from up nort
h married to a southern boy, and his mother just hated me. It would be just like her to start haunting me now.’

  ‘No,’ the medium said, and her voice was a little sharper this time. ‘It’s not your mother-in-law. Please, I must have quiet. We could frighten her away. She will not come closer and identify herself unless we remain silent.’

  Silence reigned at the table. Amanda wondered if Cassandra was really making contact with a dead person. She wished she knew what Ken was thinking. She’d have to wait till they left before she found out if he believed the medium was for real or not.

  ‘She is coming closer!’ the medium exclaimed softly. ‘She is speaking to me . . .’ She gasped. ‘It’s your mother, Margaret.’

  ‘Mama?’ the woman murmured.

  ‘Yes, yes, she is here, Margaret. What would you like to tell her?’

  ‘I miss you, Mama . . . Oh, why did you leave me?’

  Amanda could hear the pain in her voice. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel if her own mother died.

  Cassandra spoke. ‘She says it was not her choice to leave you, Margaret.’

  ‘You were the only person I could trust, the only person I loved.’ Now Margaret was weeping. ‘I can’t bear this! I want to be with you.’

  Amanda drew in her breath. This was so hard to hear. The poor woman – she was so sad!

  ‘Your mother says, don’t think like that. You mustn’t die – this is not your time. You must live, and keep her memory alive.’

  ‘But I’m all alone,’ Margaret wept. ‘You were the only person who cared about me, the only one who loved me. I ’m so lonely now . . .’

  There was a lump in Amanda’s throat, and for a moment she thought she was going to burst into tears herself. And she wasn’t even thinking about how badly dressed Margaret was. This woman had absolutely nothing going for her. She was suffering, she was utterly despondent. Her words, her tears – they’d brought a cloud of sadness into the room and it was descending on Amanda . . .Wait – she recognized this feeling. She’d had it before.

  Ohmigod, Ohmigod, oh no, oh no, this can’t be happening, not here, not now . . . She closed her eyes and concentrated fiercely. I don’t care about Margaret, she means nothing to me, I feel nothing for her . . .