Destiny's Gate (24 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The Haunting of Paige

Much to my delight, the wolves and the hellhounds fell off my radar screen over the next few weeks. As time drew on, I found it hard to believe I had ever been in contact with these profound beings at all. My mind was working its magic: distorting and blocking memories that I need not retain so I could continue living my life without
despair.

One day, I walked along the snow-clad path towards the guest house, and there, standing on the bridge ahead, was Dexter. He seemed to be waving at me, and as I neared, he disappeared. I stood on the spot where I believed he had been. I looked down on the wooden railing and there was the angel charm that kept disappearing. I picked it up; it felt warm. Beaming, I held her close to my heart as I was reminded once again; the spiritual realm was not all in my imagination. Here was something solid; a physical object I could hold in the palm of my
hand.

My pace quickened as I approached the guest house, like many times before. Allan’s commanding voice echoed through an open window and I watched as Trixie stood in the shadows, in mom’s former writing studio, seemingly hidden from her stepfather. I remembered when we had first moved into the guest house, and dad came in search of me to bring me back to the manor for dinner, and I jumped out from behind my bedroom door to scare him. Smiling, I was jerked back into the present moment as Trixie stood beside me and put her index finger to her mouth, motioning me to follow her behind the bushes. I looked at her and wrinkled my face wondering what she was up to. Again, she put her finger to her mouth as we spied on her stepfather; Allan walked outside calling her name over and over. Deeply puzzled as to what game Trixie was playing, I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, ‘what’s up?’ As Allan sniffed the air, he walked in our direction; Trixie’s eyes widened — her pupils dilated. Now, the game seemed to become one of fear, and I broke out into goosebumps, trembling. Here were the two souls I thought I could count on, and if this was not the case, I was not certain what I would do. Allan retreated as a loud bang caught his attention. He walked away, hesitating at the mammoth door, and then continued inside, slamming it shut behind
him.

“Paige, I’m sorry about the cloak-and-dagger routine but when daddy woke up this morning...well, there was something weird about him. I don’t know how to put it into words for you, but his scent is off. It smells nasty, like garbage that’s rotted in the sun. Not like his usual. He’s always taught me to trust my gut and that’s exactly what I’m doing. For now, we are going to have to remain quiet and see what happens next.” Trixie put her hand on mine, hoping for my
understanding.

“Your dad is strong spiritually. You don’t think someone’s possessed him, do you Trixie?” I could see fear in her
eyes.

Trixie ignored my question and stood watch. I sat statue-like on a stump and could not hazard a guess as to what Trixie was thinking. That was a first for me. Normally, I could at least detect an emotion from who I was with. There was nothing, only darkness, no light at all. I began to wonder, was it Allan or Trixie who had the
problem?

A chill seeped into my bones and I made an excuse that I had to return to the manor and check on my grandparents. Trixie grasped my hand and I recoiled. Her hand was stone cold and her eyes were dull and pitch-black. “So great to see you again, Paige,” Trixie said in a low, commanding voice; the one voice that made me want to flee in panic. I tried to wrench my arm loose but she tightened her grasp. Then I remembered a taekwondo move from dad, and dropped my arm down forcefully, breaking Trixie’s firm hold. I ran like the wind, without looking back. When I reached the kitchen door at the manor, I took a minute, and doubled over to catch my breath sensing the manor was
still.

As I traipsed through the screen door, with its storm windows, the overhead lights in the kitchen flickered on and off for several seconds. I knew it was not a good sign. Then the wall sconces began to turn on, one light at a time, in a circle surrounding me — going faster and faster, as if trying to give me a warning. A sudden crash in the hallway was the final straw. Angered by whatever was trying to frighten me, I strode into the dining room to find one of the twelve chairs was missing. When I entered the living room, things seemed to appear normal, until I spied a water glass leaning over the edge of a side table, with droplets of water dripping onto the floor. Suddenly, everything appeared in slow motion, and I watched, captivated, as a man wearing a black tuxedo and an elegant woman, dressed in a full length, red silky gown, began to waltz. They swayed back and forth reminding me of an old movie mom used to watch called
Gone with the Wind
: starring Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh. It was hypnotizing. I forgot that this should be freaking me out, not engaging to watch. I began to relax and swayed from side to side. Soon I was joined by a boy. He had a black robe pulled over his head concealing his identify. We began to dance together until I heard someone off in the distance calling my name. Everything came to a dead halt, and I swung around to see Carole staring at me, with a bewildered look upon her face. I could not hear what she was saying at first, as I was still caught up in the waltz, but when she clapped her hands together, reality came crashing
back.

“Carole, I don’t know what’s happening to me! Help,” I whispered as I passed
out.

I found myself back in bed, with Carole sitting next to me, and grandma standing behind her with a frown on her face. “She’s awake, Mrs. O’Brien. She’s awake!” Carole said rather excitedly as she shook my hand, beaming from ear to
ear.

“Paige, dear, are you okay now?” grandma asked, agitated. “You’ve been out cold for an hour and I’m concerned you’re having another episode. I’ll get your grandfather. I think it’s time we call the doctor to come and see you,
Paige.”

“No,” I cried. “Please, I don’t need a doctor. Carole, can’t you ask your Uncle Kyle to come back over and help me? Please!” My hopes were dashed as she looked
away.

Although I could see she was reluctant to honour my wishes, I was relieved when Carole said, “Okay.” She stood up as she texted for
help.

Kyle texted he was out of town for a few days but would send healing prayers to me. It comforted me to know he was such a kind
soul.

Grandma notified the principal that I would be off school for a few days and she insisted that I stay close to home. Needing a project that would capture my attention, I began to work on my photography. I gathered a few items together to make a collage: an old hand-written love letter from grandpa to grandma during their long-distance dating years; a single red rose in a slim, hand cut glass vase; some purple and yellow lace found in a dining room drawer; pebbles collected by mom when she was a teen; and shiny black, red and white stones and black skippers that I used to collect while on vacations. One afternoon, I arranged them all together on a sturdy plant stand and took photos from varying angles. I created a myriad of collages and was happy to have my focus back on my favourite
hobby.

Anxious to see the results of my artistic endeavours, I dressed warmly for the basement deep-freeze, and slung my camera around my neck. I found my worn, red fleece slippers and wool socks as I flashbacked to the day I had collapsed to the frigid cement floor, with the family photo barely within reach. I soundlessly steered my way down the hall to the three quarter door leading to the basement stairs, inserting the skeleton key to unlock it. I felt safe, ambling down the steps, clutching my camera to my chest with one hand and holding onto the wall with the other, protecting myself against any misstep. I had perfected the art of forgetting anything bad had happened to me in the manor and now looked upon life as full of intrigue. It was also comforting to know I was never alone. A momentary recollection of the hellhounds that swarmed me at the bottom of the stairs the last time I was here, returned, and I purposely wiped it away. After all, they had turned into human spirits and goodness knows where they were now. On that thought, my stomach
churned.

Snapping myself out of it, I continued down the hallway to the photo lab and entered the room, slamming the camera down on the rectangular wooden tabletop. It was constructed from an old barn door and refinished by Dexter. My mind wandered to memories of him again with his green eyes and blond hair and goatee. I pushed past this onto the task of developing my collage photos. I loved the process of shifting the film on spindles from the developer, bleach, wash, fix, wash, and stabilizer tanks and then reminded myself to make sure the water bath was one hundred degrees. Total darkness was needed to process the photos, as colour materials were sensitive to almost all wavelengths of light. The film was agitated in each bath with precision. How I developed the knack for this was beyond me. As I moved through my spiritual journey, perhaps a lifetime ago, this may have been my craft. It seemed like no time at all before the negatives were developed in the tanks. Printing the film was easy, with the help of a small, tabletop, rotary drum paper processor. Dexter had found it for me at an antique shop. Ventilation in the room was absolutely necessary or the fumes would become toxic to me. It was an expensive hobby. I was grateful my grandparents fuelled the funding for my labour of love; it was almost an extinct art by
hand.

By the time I finished processing the photos, I noticed the partially blooming rose appeared to be in full bloom, a brilliant, eye-catching red. Now, how could that be possible? Nevertheless, it looked beautiful. Another photo of fruit, arranged in a gilded bowl painted with butterflies, had one orange with a tiny green bud atop. Magically, the photos were enhanced, or so it seemed, through the developing process. I shook my head. Anything can happen in the O’Brien Manor. If I thought positively, things were beautiful and happy, if I thought negatively, watch out; food for
thought.

Just then, I heard a tiny rap on the door. Knowing the red light in the hall was on to warn visitors not to disturb, I became worried. The last time that happened, back in Scarborough at my high school photo lab, I saw Mackenzie and then a whole host of ghostly experiences began, some that I would rather forget! I remained silent in hopes that whoever it was would walk away. Not so — there was another rap at the door, followed by scratching. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I began to shake, dropping my last photo on the floor. I noiselessly approached the door, as if compelled, and leaned against it, listening to shallow breathing on the other side. I remained silent, aware that opening the door would be unwise and glanced down at the photo with the orange; the tiny green leaf had wilted. That was not a good sign. Another light rap on the door, then another, becoming louder until the whole door shook. It took a lot of power to shake the heavy door Dexter had built. I threw my weight against the door and slid the cast iron victorian style slide bolt into place, locking
it.

Retreating to the corner, I collapsed onto the floor, clasping my hands together in prayer, asking the Almighty to please protect me. I did not think I could handle another earthbound introduction. Swiftly, the knocking stopped. A calming breeze blew over me and then high winds ripped through the room and burst out through the door, throwing it wide open. I was in shock, as I saw a black shadow swept away. This was a first for me, having my prayers answered with such immediacy after asking Creator for help. If that’s all I ever had to do, how easy was that? Stunned by my revelation, I could not help but also wonder what was whisked away and where did it go,
exactly?

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The True Meaning of the Medicine Bundle

The next morning, I texted Carole again about Kyle’s availability. She quickly responded that he had arrived home late the previous night, and they were coming over in about an hour. I felt a huge sense of relief as I dressed, and then headed to the kitchen to grab
breakfast.

Grandpa ambled into the room, and moved slowly towards the sink. He washed his hands, saying nothing until he finished. “Good morning, Paige. So glad to see you’re up and about. I’m also glad to see I am too!” And he
laughed.

“Oh, grandpa, haven’t we all been through enough?” I blurted out. “What sins are we paying for? Do you
know?”

“Paige, we haven’t done a thing wrong! We are living our lives like everybody else and yet this thing, this evil spirit, feels we have to pay for our ancestors’ wrong doing. I have asked a priest to stop by and he is going to pray for us tonight. Maybe that’ll be the end of this harassment.” Grandpa nearly lost his balance, and then
recovered.

“Oh, do we all have to be here when he visits?” I asked, hoping the answer would be
no.

“Yes, I would like you to be here, Paige, but if you have something more pressing, I’ll understand.” He glanced at me and then looked out the kitchen
window.

“I need to study tonight. I really have ignored my homework. I also need to check on my photos...they’re drying. I snapped some collages and was going to surprise you with them.” I smiled at grandpa and he nodded. “Well, I’m heading out for a
walk.”

I met Carole and her uncle at the front door before they rapped on the knocker. Kyle was happy I wanted to walk outside in the fresh, crisp air, while we discussed the subject of hauntings. He walked between Carole and me as we made our way around the east side of the manor towards the gardens and sat on the ‘Dexter’ bench, aptly named in his
memory.

“Paige, I’m going to try to explain something to you from my culture, although its meaning sometimes gets lost in translation. I will try my best. Remember the medicine bundle I gave to
you?”

I nodded my head and replied, “You asked me to store it and let no one else touch
it.”

“What I need to do now is explain its power. It is made of four sacred medicines. Semaa which is tobacco, is in the east. It is offered each day of Thanksgiving and always in prayer. Giizhik or cedar, is in the south. Cedar is used for prayer and also for smudging. It can be used in sweat lodges, too and many other ceremonies. Cedar is best for protection in the home or car. You can drink cedar tea for good health. Mskodewashk or sage, is in the west. It is used at the end of the day, and also to smudge areas used for meetings and events and for cleansing. Sometimes, it can be used for drinking to strengthen the heart and body. Wiingashk or sweetgrass, is in the north. And we use it to smudge our head to clear our minds, eyes, ears and mouth to see, hear and say only good things. Then we smudge our body and prayers are said to remain in good health. We do this for the good of our community. What I am trying to say is this: it is a very powerful gift from my Band — the Aamjiwnaang — to you. If you believe the medicine bundle will help you, it will. If you don’t, it won’t.” Kyle stopped and held my hand. “Your bundle was made for you and you alone. It is customized, if you want to look at it like that. Believe in the power of my nation and my ancestors, and they will be there for you when you need them most. In our ancestry, many believed that our God and yours were different. They called him the Great Spirit and many other names. We believe we are all united under one, the Creator. We must work together to help each other, as this is our
test.”

I studied Kyle very closely as he spoke. He had warm, dark brown eyes and beautiful, long, black hair. His sideburns caught my attention this time; they reminded me of those I had seen in Elvis Presley photos. His presence was very strong. I believed every word he
said.

“May I give you a hug?” I
asked.

Kyle replied, “Of course,
Paige.”

I gave him the biggest bear hug I could manage. I did not understand the significance of the medicine bundle at the time it was given; now I felt a sudden connection to the First Nation community like never
before.

“Thank you, Uncle Kyle. I guess I was too sick to process what you had done for me. I do believe in the medicine bundle and its powerful healing. How can I ever thank you or your Band? I’m sorry I don’t know how to pronounce the name.” I bowed my
head.

Kyle smiled and said, “It is a tongue twister. We are Chippewas of Sarnia or Ojibwe. That is probably more familiar to you. And I live on the reserve unlike my niece. The name Aamjiwnaang means ‘at the spawning stream’. And you have already thanked me, Paige. Your friendship with my niece is like the bond between two sisters. I feel it when I am with you. You are part of us now, Paige. And, I don’t mind you calling me uncle.” He squeezed my hand then stood. “Time for me to go. You will be safe. There is more at work here than your own personal struggle with evil. Others will be helping
soon.”

I wanted to ask him who was coming to help but he strode
away.

“I am so thrilled the medicine bundle worked!” Carole
exclaimed.

“I know what you mean, Carole. I feel very blessed and honoured and quite overwhelmed. Thank you for being my friend. I don’t think I’ve ever had someone as close to me as you are. What would I do without you?” Tears streamed down my face and I realized how vulnerable I had been
feeling.

“You are my best friend too, Paige. We are lucky. Some people never have one best friend in their lifetime. Acquaintances, perhaps, but true friendship is accepting each other as we
are.”

Brushing my tears away, I asked, “Okay...what are we going to do
today?”

“We are going to visit the person responsible for our meeting...Peggy!” Carole
cried.

“For sure...I’ve been meaning to visit her. Lead the
way.”