Ryan looked at me like I was about to explode. His hand was still positioned lightly on my back, “I’m going to ask how long the wait is,” he said. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I snapped. “Please stop asking me that!” I struggled to keep the frustration from my voice. He hesitated for a moment, but removed his hand and walked to the front of the long line. Lovie smiled at me politely. I knew I was acting like a total freak, but they had no idea what I’d just seen—and experienced. I was completely and utterly alone, the only person who understood me was an MIA ghost. I shook my head, trying to exile the negative thoughts from my mind.
“There’s a thirty-minute wait,” said Ryan, startling me out of my reverie. “Wanna try somewhere else?”
I shrugged. I was so past the point of hunger, my stomach was an acidic mess of emptiness and doubt. It was surreal to me that I could return from one of the most harrowing experiences of my life to a classic game of “No, where do you want to eat?” My head hurt.
Finally, we decided on a Chinese restaurant a few blocks away. My stomach did another flip-flop when we entered. The restaurant was stuffy and hot despite the chilliness outside. It smelled like cat litter and old grease, but I was so grateful to be away from the crowd, it was a welcome relief. Even though I appreciated the silence of the restaurant, it occurred to me that the burger place probably would have been a better choice as far as drowning out our conversation. The stuffy dining hall was almost empty except for an older gentleman with a bad comb-over to hide the baldness on top of his head. He seemed to be pondering his egg drop soup as if it contained the secrets of the universe. My throbbing headache intensified into a head-splitting migraine. My vision got blurry. I sat down in a red booth and stared blankly at the black plastic menu without actually reading any of it.
An awkward silence descended and there was growing pressure to see who would break it first. Luckily, our waitress did that job for us. She had silky black hair pulled into a tight bun on top of her head and dark red eye shadow that reached all the way up to her sparse eyebrows. She took us in with unmasked curiosity. When she looked at Lovie, her eyes traveled from the priestess’s beautiful dark complexion to the bright gold and purple scarf she tied skillfully around her head. After staring for a moment, she shrugged and her curiosity was replaced with boredom. She looked at us impatiently. I didn’t even bother to choose a meal; I just repeated after Ryan and instantly forgot what I ordered. The woman shouted something in Chinese back to the kitchen and ungraciously lifted our menus before stalking off. She sat down on a folding chair near the front door and pulled out her phone and earbuds. The man with the egg drop soup remained immobile.
Ryan and Lovie turned to me expectantly. I knew I had to report my findings.
***
I didn’t tell them everything, of course, I tactfully left out the part of my drunken nighttime “bash” and the kiss from Drake. I spared them the gory details of seeing the doctor and Dorothy dead. I felt so ashamed when admitting how I’d been duped by the doctor. He seemed like such a nefarious, slimy man, so I just assumed. But in reality, I actually sought the help of Dorothy’s murderer without even realizing it.
“You couldn’t have known, Peyton,” said Ryan reassuringly.
Lovie remained silent, her lips pressed into a thin line. I ignored her. I was sure she’d disapprove of Drake and me taking Alice to the hospital. But what else could we do? After I finished, I stared miserably at the condensation droplets forming around my water glass. My mind was still on Drake and the abject silence in my head.
The ill-tempered waitress interrupted us again. She set our food in front of us without so much as a word and returned to her post by the door when she finished. I ignored my meal and took out my phone to start checking for flights home. I noticed I had eight missed calls and I scrolled to see who they were from.
The screen changed and I scrolled through all the messages with the dark blue dots next to them. One was from an unknown number, I had two missed calls from my realtor, and five missed calls from Jill. I dreaded the information Jill wanted to share, but it would have to wait until later. I went back to the home screen just as a text from Jill came through. My stomach dropped; I nudged Ryan and showed him the phone.
“What is it?” Lovie asked.
“It’s Ada,” said Ryan, still reading the message. “She’s in a coma.”
Lovie inhaled sharply.
“I’m too late,” I said after the information sunk in. My shoulders were nearly crushed under the weight of the news. I wouldn’t be able to help her in time.
“Not necessarily,” said Lovie thoughtfully. “Sometimes coma patients are actually accessible through the spiritual world. The cases don’t have any real consistency, but there’s a chance we could contact Ada the same way we contacted other spirits.”
“They’ll want to know everything you just told us,” said Ryan. “But what about Dorothy’s spirit? Shouldn’t we go to the hospital here first to see if we can contact her?”
The thought of prolonging my time here made my two mouthfuls of rice churn in my stomach. I felt the liquid in my veins turn to ice. If we tried to find Dorothy, it would be even longer before I could see if Drake were okay. I had to get back to New Orleans immediately. Nothing else mattered to me.
I took my phone back from Ryan and clicked the Safari tab again. Scanning the flight departure times, I found one leaving at four p.m. If we left immediately, we’d probably have enough time to make it.
“Can you remember the way to the hospital, Peyton?” asked Lovie, interrupting my rapid typing. Clearly, she was not on the same page.
“I can’t do anything without Drake,” I said. Ryan tensed beside me. I quickly added, “He’s my link to the spirit world. I won’t be able to communicate to anyone without him.”
Lovie looked thoughtful. “Now that your mind is used to opening up to that world, you might be able to do it without Drake’s help. And your residual spiritual energy is all over the hospital now; it should be much easier this time. Think of Drake as a set of training wheels.”
“But even you need some link to communicate with that world.” I said, thinking of Samuel. I wondered if it were common for Lovie to not see him for a few days.
“You just need a spirit, Peyton. You mentioned some graves outside the hospital? There’s a chance some of those spirits will still be near there. If they’re still active, they’ll be relatively easy to contact and we can use them to find Dorothy.”
Ryan and I wore twin expressions of confusion.
“The more active spirits communicate with the physical world all the time. And hospitals are usually rife with active spirits,” she explained.
“Well, it wasn’t even a real hospital,” I argued in protest. My chest felt tight. “It was just a mansion that they converted. There probably wouldn’t be anyone there. I think we should go home and talk to Ada and take it from there. There’s a flight that leaves in two hours.”
“I think Lovie is right,” said Ryan. “We’re here now. It can’t hurt to try.”
“Drake, you’re not listening—” I started before I realized my mistake too late. I wished I could have reached out my hand and caught the name that escaped from my lips. But Ryan’s eyes had already hardened and his jaw was clenched. “Sorry, Ryan,” I shook my head. “I’m just tired.” I stayed silent and stared at my uneaten food.
“Peyton,” Lovie began more gently. “From the sounds of it, Ada is very sick. If we’re going to do anything for them, we have to do it now.”
TWENTY-FIVE
I knew Lovie was right. We didn’t have time to go home and start again, not with Ada in the hospital. If I intended to ease her soul in the days before her passing, this was how I’d have to do it. I agreed to help, and barring personal reservations, this was my responsibility now. Even though my chest ached to find out what happened to Drake, I knew I was being selfish. Still, I obsessed over him. What if he wasn’t there when we finally
managed to make it home? I should have left sooner, and not bothered with getting Alice to the hospital. Someone would have found her. Probably. Instead, I wasted all my energy in getting her to safety and didn’t have enough to take Drake back with me. Did spirits suffer from traveling physical distances? Would the journey back have hurt him? I thought anxiously of what Lovie and Christopher had told me in our initial meeting about the strange disappearances of other spirits around New Orleans. My eyes watered and I exhaled slowly. If Drake were gone, it would be entirely my fault.
“I think I can remember how to get there,” I told them while banishing my concerns about Drake temporarily. Indeed, the backs of my retinas were cauterized from the strange journey I’d taken during the past few days. But I had no way of knowing how much the scenery would have changed in the last hundred years. “Who knows what it looks like now? I highly doubt much land was left untouched this close to New York City.”
Lovie nodded. “It may be a fool’s errand, but at least you could face Jill and Ada by saying you’ve done all you could.”
I nodded. I called Jill from the restaurant. She sounded tired and worried. I passed along my condolences. “I’m still going to do everything I can; we’re on our way to try to contact Dorothy’s spirit now.”
Jill sounded grateful. Even in her tired, worried state, her voice cracked with emotion. My resolve hardened; I had to help them if I could. We left the restaurant and hailed a cab.
“Can we start from the hotel?” I asked. “I know the way from there.”
Ryan gave the driver the hotel’s address.
“That old place?” asked the driver. “I’ve heard it’s haunted.”
Ryan flashed me a look, but I didn’t have the strength or will to find his remark even a little funny.
I directed the driver as best I could, but everything was so different. None of the buildings were the same. One of the roads I remembered Drake and me taking led us directly into a park. Finally, as we made our way further out of the city center, the route became slightly more familiar. The same trees that lined the road remained, and their branches were even more impressive and farther reaching than in 1910.
We took a few more turns before finding the paved road that wound through the trees. I marveled at how smooth the road was, and how silent and comfortable the car seemed, not to mention, how much faster we went. Gradually, the trees thinned out and the area turned more residential. Modern buildings lined the road on either side and I worried anxiously we wouldn’t be able to find it. All of a sudden, on the right side of the road, I spotted the same turn I’d taken earlier with Thomas Dickerson.
“Here!” I shouted and the driver stomped on the brake. We all tumbled gracelessly forward. He turned on the road and when I saw the building in the distance, I was bursting with pride, which soon turned to dread.
The old house looked exactly the same as it did in 1910. The only difference now was its neighbors: huge, modern mansions with elaborate fences and manicured shrubbery. The dark brick of the mansion stood out in stark comparison. The house was a classic tribute to late nineteenth century architecture. I stared at the second story window, and my heart instantly began to race. I thought I saw a pale face staring back at me through the window, but when I blinked, it was gone—probably just a trick of the light. Behind the house I glimpsed an impressive back yard with some of the same trees Drake and I had emerged from just last night. My teeth began to chatter.
Ryan looked uneasy and opened his mouth but after my previous reaction to him when he asked if I were okay, he had the wisdom to stay silent.
“So… what do we do?” I asked. “How do I contact these active spirits? Assuming, of course, there are any? Look! There’s a car in the driveway,” I pointed to a white SUV in front of the house, “Whatever they’re using this place for now, it sure isn’t a hospital.”
“Let’s try the truth,” said Lovie.
“What?” Ryan and I chorused.
“People love a good ghost story,” said Lovie. “If there are active spirits here, chances are, the owners will be more than eager to tell us.”
“True,” I admitted. “Although knocking on the door and saying, ‘Hey, we just stopped by to see if you’ve got any ghosts?’ seems like an unusual introduction, to say the least.”
“Well, maybe we won’t say it exactly like that,” said Lovie without humor.
We made our way up the front steps. My back hurt from the tension I was holding inside and my body screamed for me to turn around. Of all the places in the world I wanted to be, this was the absolute last. But then I thought of Dorothy lying on the floor and her final moments of terror. If she were stuck reliving the grisly scene of her death, then my own qualms about coming back to this place paled in comparison.
Ryan gave a hearty knock on the door. The noise echoed with a heavy timbre.
A few moments later, a middle-aged man opened the door. He was dressed in a checkered, collared shirt and khakis; he was pale, of small stature and wore glasses. He looked us over briefly, clearly waiting for us to tell him what we wanted. Lovie and Ryan remained quiet.
“Hi,” I said, breaking the silence with the most upbeat tone I could manage, “Hi,” I started again, “this is maybe a longshot, but we we’re trying to solve a century-old mystery that ended in this house. I’m trying to contact the ghost of Dorothy Arnold, and I have reason to believe this was her final resting place. You see, we came all the way from New Orleans. We know her granddaughter and her great granddaughter and this is very time sensitive. Today, we have a chance to finally make contact, which I realize probably sounds totally crazy, but if you’ve ever seen any sign of ghostly activity, maybe you could help us.” I took a big inhale, realizing I hadn’t breathed until I ended my speech. The man stared at me blankly. I swear, I almost heard him blink. I tried a new route, “So… got any ghosts?”
Lovie put her face in her hands.
The man didn’t respond and, for a moment, I thought he would close the door in our faces, but instead, he just rolled his eyes. Then he turned his head, and hollered back into the house.
“Nidhi!” he called. “It’s some more of your ghost people.”
The man left the door open and turned to walk back into the house. I looked at Ryan and Lovie. Ghost people? They shrugged.
A woman replaced the man at the door. She raised her eyebrows when I plunged into the explanation a second time. I was lightheaded after reciting my long-winded account.
“Oh!” she said enthusiastically, “Come on in!”
We entered the large, ornate house and I shuddered, remembering the main hall all too well. Now, instead of rows of beds, the large front room featured a beautiful collection of antique furniture. The floors were the same wood, only now it was highly polished. The stairs to the right had been replaced to match the rails and the flooring material. They were painted black with a glossy finish. The whole place was a classic expression of good taste. The woman beamed up at us. Her skin was a beautiful caramel color and her shiny, black hair cascaded down her back. She looked young, maybe in her mid-twenties, and she was even shorter than her small husband. She wore a beautiful, vibrant orange dress that accentuated her glowing complexion. Her large, owlish eyes took us in. She stopped when she got to Ryan and stared for a second too long at his looming frame. He was easily two feet taller than her. She looked impressed.
“I’m Nidhi,” she said warmly, extending a hand. “That was my husband, Mark. He’s not really into this stuff, not as much as I am, but as long as he humors me, I guess I’ll keep him around,” she said with a nervous laugh as she turned shake my hand as well.
“Sorry,” said Ryan while she hung onto his hand with undisguised fervor, “what stuff?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, her hand flying to her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any offense. I know your work is so much more than stuff. I don’t know much about the, you know… the spirit world,” she said with a dramatic inflection in her voice. “S
hoot! I did it again. Really, I mean no disrespect. I just didn’t even believe in ghosts until we moved here. And now, well, now I have to.” She laughed again.
Lovie went into work mode, and I saw the shift in her shoulders. She glided confidently into the house. “What do you mean when you say now you have to?” she asked. I was grateful for Lovie’s ability to instantly go with the flow. We apparently had great timing, although I wondered whom Nidhi was actually expecting.
“Well, it all started about three months ago. We’d been living here for barely a week and I kept having dreams about… well, about babies. I didn’t think much of it, of course, Mark and I had been trying to have one for some time, so I just figured it was my subconscious playing on my daily thoughts and anxieties. But then it happened, even when I was awake, I’d hear sounds of babies crying and a woman screaming that I’d stolen her child… crazy stuff… in the house! I thought I was losing my mind.”
“You weren’t losing your mind,” I cut in. My fingers were buzzing, if what the woman said was true, that would mean the house was still active. There was a ghost of a chance we could save Dorothy. The woman turned to me and I said, “A woman did give birth to a baby here and she was brutally murdered only days after her daughter’s birth. Her daughter was named Alice.”
Nidhi nodded eagerly, somewhat set at ease by the conviction of my statements. She plunged ahead, “Well, anyway that went on for about a month and the dreams started getting more and more intense. I got pregnant for the first time and then I suffered a terrible miscarriage. I was depressed for weeks afterwards, and I was convinced it was because of the house. I was hospitalized for a short time and then Mark and I decided to go on vacation to get away. He just thought the city was getting to me. Dark time. And then, while I was gone, we started the renovation out back. That’s when they found them; while they were putting in the pond.”