Dead Voices (11 page)

“Where’s Elspeth?” Elizabeth asked. glancing worriedly out into the hallway.

“StilI dozing in the parlor,” Junia said. “She does that a lot lately.” Still holding Elizabeth who was very unsteady on her feet, Junia started guiding her to the door. “Maybe you should come into the kitchen. I’ll get you a shot of brandy. That’ll bring the color back to your cheeks.”

Elizabeth was about to decline, then thought better of it and, side by side with her aunt, went down the narrow hallway to the kitchen. She sat down heavily in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and smiled her thanks after Junia fished out a squat bottle from under the counter, poured a generous amount of brandy into a tumbler, and handed the glass to her. Elizabeth made a quick “bottoms up” signal with her hand and took a sip.

“I keep it around for strictly medicinal purposes,” Junia said. She cast a shifty glance at the parlor doorway and, lowering her voice, added, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention it to Elspeth. You know how she feels about having any distilled spirits around the house. “

Elizabeth nodded, almost laughing aloud when she caught the unintentional wordplay —”spirits,” indeed! That was exactly the feeling she had had, that there was a ghost, a presence in the house that was lurking, unseen in the darker, drafty comers.

Tilting her head back, Elizabeth let another swallow of the burning liquid splash down her throat. She had always preferred red wine or beer because brandy or any distilled liquor tasted more like battery acid than anything else to her; but after the flaming rush of fear she had experienced in the bathroom, Aunt Junia’s “medicinal” brandy actually helped calm and steady her still-vibrating nerves. Smacking her lips with satisfaction, she put the half-emptied glass down on the kitchen table and smiled, and this time her smile was fuller and wider.

“My, my — that is
some
good medicine,” she said.

“Heated up, it works wonders on a sore throat. too,” Junia said. She grinned and then, after screwing the cap back onto the bottle, leaned down and put it back under the counter where she kept it hidden from her sister. When she straightened up, though, there was a hard expression on her face when she looked back at Elizabeth.

“But now,” Junia said, lowering her voice, “I want the truth about what happened there in the bathroom.”

“I told you,” Elizabeth said. She found it impossible to maintain eye contact with her aunt. “I was just splashing some water on my face, and when I was reaching for the towel, I banged my hip on the side of the sink.”

“I thought you said it was your knee,” Junia said, frowning.

Elizabeth was about to protest further, but she knew — and Junia knew that she knew — that she had been found out in her lie. After another slug of brandy — this time to brace herself — she took a deep breath and said, “Can I trust you ... not to think I’m crazy, Aunt Junia?”

“Of course you can! You
know
you can, dear,” Junia said, with such warmth and gentleness it brought a warm flood of tears to Elizabeth’s eyes.

“Well, my first thought ... the one I hope is true, anyway, because otherwise it means I’ve
really
got some serious problems, is that your house is haunted.” She snickered and glanced at Junia, but there wasn’t the slightest trace of humor on her aunt’s face. Elizabeth tilted the tumbler back and stared as though dazed at the small amount of brandy remaining.

“And what exactly makes you think that” Junia asked pointedly.

After another deep breath, Elizabeth went on. “I don’t mean your house is
really
haunted. I mean, that’s impossible ... I think. But ever since I got here this morning, I’ve had this ... this sort of
feeling —”

“Like you’re being watched?” Junia said.

Elizabeth felt an electrical tingle throughout her body. Looking up at her aunt, she nodded. “Yeah ... exactly,” she said, marveling that Junia had picked up on it so quickly. “Like I’m being watched. A couple of times, I actually thought I saw someone, and when I was in the bathroom, I was positive I heard these faint voices, whispering as if in the next room.” She shook her head with confusion and, shivering, cast a wary glance over her shoulder. “There isn’t — I mean, there can’t be anyone else in the house besides us, right?”

Junia shrugged and smiled. “I haven’t the foggiest idea. Who do you think it might be?” she asked.

“I — I don’t think it’s anyone ... Not really. But when 1 was in the bathroom, I ... I …

Elizabeth’s voice cut off abruptly when the image of the face she had seen rose up in her mind. It was sharp and clear, but even now, with the numbing flood of panic receding, and the fire of the brandy soothing her nerves, she didn’t recognize the face, even though she felt she should. The dimming memory of it was that it had looked more like a girl than a woman. Maybe someone in her early teens. Her hair had been long and blonde, but that and every other detail of her face was lost in the disturbing memory of how pale and drawn, how wrung of life she had looked. It was almost as if, even with her eyes open and staring unblinkingly back at Elizabeth, she had been dead.

“You saw something?” Junia said, her voice rising almost playfully.

Elizabeth bit down sharply on her lower lip and nodded. “Yeah — in the mirror.”

“But you’re sure you didn’t recognize her?”

“No — I mean, yes. What I mean is, I feel like I should have recognized her,” Elizabeth said. She shook her head and looked pleadingly at her aunt, wondering why she had said her. How did Junia know it had been a woman or girl? Elizabeth couldn’t help glancing around behind herself again when she felt the hairs at the nape of her neck prickle.

Junia lowered her voice and, looking directly into Elizabeth’s eyes, said, “Did it ever cross your mind that it might have been Caroline? That she might be trying to get in touch with you?”

FOUR

Old Flame

1.

The mere mention of Caroline’s name sent a tingling chill up her spine.

“Could we — go outside? I think I need a breath of fresh air,” Elizabeth said. She felt pressure coiling up inside her like heavy, black smoke.

“That might not be a bad idea.” Junia replied, glancing toward the living room doorway. “That way we won’t disturb Elspeth.”

Once outside on the porch. they each sat down in one of the heavy, wooden lawn chairs that had been stored on the porch for the winter. The chairs were a grainy, faded white, and looked as if they had needed a fresh coat of paint for at least five years.

The traffic zooming by on Route 22 was much heavier than Elizabeth remembered it, but she still found the view peaceful and enjoyable. Sunlight poured through the huge maple trees, casting dancing shadows that made the front lawn and walkway look as though they were bubbling with activity. The warm breeze wafting from the south carried a moist, tingling smell of fresh growing things. Even the sound of passing traffic was lulling, rather than irritating. Aided by the brandy. Elizabeth’s jangled nerves began to unwind.

But as pleasant as the early afternoon was, Elizabeth was still restless and uneasy in her heart. When she recalled how much she had enjoyed sitting here, sipping lemonade and talking with Aunt Junia, she couldn’t stop thinking that Caroline would never be able to do this. As when she was exploring the treasures and junk in the attic, there were all these constant reminders of things Caroline was missing. Visiting with the aunts had always been something Elizabeth had appreciated; and she had always assumed Caroline would develop that same relationship with the aunts while they were still alive. She had never imagined that both Junia and Elspeth would survive Caroline.

“You know,” Elizabeth said, taking another deep breath and looking up at the sky, “I just can’t accept that Caroline doesn’t — doesn’t exist ... somewhere.” She squeezed her clasped hands between her knees, earnestly wishing she could shift her attention to something else. But she couldn’t stop her thoughts from almost constantly revolving around Caroline and the things she was missing. Maybe, Elizabeth thought, coming back home was only going to make her healing all the more difficult because of the memories it stirred.

Junia reached out and gently gripped her arm. “There are a lot of things in life,” she said mildly, “which surprise us when they happen.”

Elizabeth took a shuddering breath and, not knowing exactly what Junia meant, closed her eyes and leaned back against the chair. She concentrated on feeling the spring breeze wash like water over her face. One small part of her mind, a part that got increasingly smaller as she got older, earnestly wanted to believe in ... something — some kind of personal survival after death. But after the accident, she had lost any element of faith in a kind or even a benign universe. Things in life just happened — birth, death, accidents, misery, and happiness; they were all just the results of random activity. There was no wise, overseeing God who kept watch over things; there
couldn’t
be, because if there were, how — in any conceivable way — could He justify taking away someone as precious, as innocent, as Caroline?

“You know,” Junia said, her voice sounding dreamily distant, “the older I get, the stronger I believe that those who have passed on
do
experience a better existence than this one. And I’m positive they sometimes come back to visit those they loved who are still in this world.”

With her eyes still closed, Elizabeth had a vague sense that she might be drifting off to sleep, but she focused her attention on her aunt’s words and let them drag her back to awareness.

“You actually believe that?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes, I do,” Junia replied. ‘‘I’m convinced that death is only the beginning of a new and glorious adventure.”

“But why — ? Why would someone who’s died do something like that, come back to where they used to live or whatever?” Elizabeth asked. The slug of brandy still warmed her belly, and she was feeling incredibly relaxed; she felt as if she were melting into the wooden chair. Her own voice had a muffled mellowness that soothed her in spite of the topic they were discussing. She thought how nice it must be to have faith in the idea of life after death — or in
anything
— as strongly as Aunt Junia apparently did in the continued existence of the soul.

“Souls can stay on the earthly plane for a whole host of reasons, you know,” Junia said, “Some stay voluntarily; some involuntarily. I’m sure that, just as we who are still alive think we know their reasons for doing so, there are dozens, maybe hundreds of reasons to return that those on the other side have — reasons we aren’t even aware of. Usually, though, I suspect a spirit will return to exact some kind of revenge or else to warn somebody — a loved one, usually, of some danger.”

“But what makes you think Caroline might be trying to contact me?” Elizabeth asked. She opened her eyes and looked intently at Junia. As she had been by the bottle of brandy hidden in the cupboard, she was surprised by this conversation. Junia had always shown an interest in horoscopes and such, but Elizabeth had never even suspected that she had such a strong faith in religion or spiritualism or whatever you wanted to call it.

“I didn’t say I
know
Caroline is” — Junia shifted her eyes, holding her hands up in the air and sweeping them around —” here.”

Elizabeth grunted softly, closed her eyes again, and let herself float on the cushion of brandy. “But when I told you what I saw in the bathroom mirror, you said something about how it
might
be Caroline. Don’t you think I would have recognized the face I saw — or whatever it was-if it was my own daughter?”

“Who’s to say?” Junia replied. “You might have been so surprised, so scared, you didn’t even recognize her face.”

“I saw ... enough,” Elizabeth said, stirring uneasily on the chair. She wanted to open her eyes and sit up, but the brandy continued to press her backward into the chair. “The face I saw was an older girl-a teenager or something.”

Junia sniffed. “Who’s to say?” she repeated. ‘‘I’m not saying it was or it wasn’t Caroline or anyone. I’m just suggesting that if it was Caroline, she might be nearby, trying to tell you something, trying to help you.”

“And what do you think she’d —” Elizabeth cut herself off and suddenly sat bolt-upright in her chair. Her eyes snapped open as if she had been hit by an electrical charge. The sudden choking sensation she had was the only reason she didn’t cry out or say out loud the thought that had popped into her mind.

—
To exact some kind of revenge
!

That’s what Aunt Junia had said! If ghosts didn’t return to warn someone of something, they came back to exact revenge for what’s happened to them!

Maybe Caroline hasn’t “passed on,” Elizabeth thought, through a flood of panic; maybe now she’s come back because she wants me to pay for what happened ... maybe she wants me to die!

That’s impossible! Elizabeth told herself, even as panic raged inside her. All of this talk is — it’s impossible! It’s crazy!

She fought to control her voice when she spoke-partly because she didn’t want to hurt Aunt Junia’s feelings about something in which she had obviously invested a great deal of faith-but she just couldn’t bring herself to accept any of this. She didn’t even want to be thinking or talking about it!

“Even if what you’re saying is true,” she said, measuring her words carefully, “that doesn’t explain why I saw someone else’s face in the mirror. It wasn’t, it
couldn’t
have been Caroline —”

Her throat went suddenly dry, and she could say no more. The warm smile on Junia’s face never wavered as she leaned closer to her niece.

“I’m not saying it was or it wasn’t,” Junia said placidly. “And I certainly don’t want to force my beliefs onto you or upset you, dear. You say you saw ... someone. I’m saying, if it was Caroline, who knows why you didn’t recognize her? Maybe you didn’t see her as the six-year-old you knew her as. Maybe you saw what I guess would be called the ‘spiritual essence’ of your daughter. I don’t know. I’d have to see it to know more definitely.”

“Or maybe I just imagined the whole thing,” Elizabeth said softly.