“I stopped by the manor to see Sara on the day she died,” Josephine said. “I gave her a stuffed teddy bear I’d bought for her, and she begged me to take her for ice cream. I said I would. Then I remembered I was meant to meet up with a friend. I offered to take Sara for ice cream another day. I’ll never forget the sad look on her face when she didn’t get what she wanted. She wrapped her arms around the bear and buried her face into it, pouting. I felt so bad. The nanny overheard our conversation and offered to take Sara herself. At the time, I was appreciative and relieved, but it ended up being the last time I saw her alive.”
“You haven’t seen her since you died?” Addison asked. “I would have thought the two of you could reconnect somehow.”
She shook her head. “I hoped we could be together, and I’ve searched for her. I never found her. You’re the only one I’ve seen in decades.”
Josephine’s afterlife seemed desolate, and yet she’d stayed, hoping one day to reunite with the granddaughter she’d lost.
“I’m sorry,” Addison said. “I can only imagine what it’s been like for you all these years.”
“Aww, well. Maybe I deserve the isolation. Instead of making Sara a priority, I ditched her to meet up with a friend. I’ve had a long while to think about the decisions we make as people, and the way we prioritize things. It’s a shame. I would do anything to make it up to her now. If I would have just taken her for ice cream like she’d wanted, the accident would have been prevented, and she’d still be alive today.”
Addison didn’t agree.
“It’s not your fault. There’s no way to know what would have happened. If it wasn’t a car accident, it would have been something else. I’m not sure we can escape our fate.”
“When I saw you in the store and you saw me, I knew we were meant to connect with each other. I knew you were meant to help me, and I was right. Here you are now, at Sara’s home. Why did you visit the manor today?”
An eerie feeling diverted Addison’s attention. It felt as though someone was watching from the sidelines, devouring every move she made. And the air had changed, emitting a foul stench of decay.
“What is it?” Josephine asked. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. Can you feel it?”
“Feel what, dear?”
“The change in the air. It’s colder, and it shouldn’t be, not this cold.”
Josephine narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure. It all feels the same to me.”
A gust of wind rustled through the trees, kicking a mass of fall leaves off the branches. The leaves blew through the air, slapping against each other as they fell to the ground. A nearby tree wavered back and forth. Josephine glanced at it and yelled, “Move! Get out of the way! Now!”
Addison ran toward the car and crouched down on the passenger side. Glancing back, lightning struck one of the trees, igniting the trunk from within. The tree blew apart, exploding into a mass of fragmented pieces. Unsure what to make of it, Addison remained still for a time. She waited for everything to go quiet. Then she stepped out and looked around.
“Josephine?” Addison said. “Are you still here?”
“I am,” Josephine replied. “I’m right behind you.”
Addison turned.
“I’ve never seen anything like that before,” Josephine said. “What do you make of it?”
“It was a warning. My second one of the day.”
Josephine looked confused. “The second? When was the first?”
“I thought I heard something, voices, when I arrived at the manor. Then right before the tree caught fire, you asked me why I came here today. You’re not the only spirit who’s visited me. I’ve seen Sara.”
Josephine’s eyes widened. “When did you see her? Where?”
“She visited me in the hospital. I took her hand, and we went back in time, to the day of the car crash. She wanted me to see it. I’m just not sure about all the details yet, or what it all means. She wants to tell me something, but she’s afraid.”
“What happened after she visited you?”
“Nothing. I haven’t seen her since.”
Josephine shook her head. “I can’t believe you relived that fateful day. The accident was shocking and cruel, a gut-wrenching scene for those who witnessed the aftermath of it all. I always thought seeing one of my children die before I did would be a burden too heavy to bear, but my grandchild? What happened to Sara was far worse than anything I could have imagined. Her death brought on an onslaught of events like stacked dominoes. One day everything was in line: the next it all came crashing down. I didn’t just lose a granddaughter that day. I lost my own daughter as well, mentally at least. She was never the same again.”
“I saw Cecilia at the manor today.”
“Oh? How is she?”
“She seemed off, detached from actual life. She tried to invite me in and was shot down by a man whose only goal was to send me away as soon as I arrived.”
“What man?”
“I don’t know,” Addison said. “He wouldn’t give me his name.”
“What did he look like?”
“He was older, late seventies, I’d guess. He had a beard and a fair bit of weight on him. Not too much, but he wasn’t thin.”
She shook her head. “Hmm. Could be Lawrence, I suppose. When I was around him, he was as fit as a man could be. That was many years ago, though. Time may not have been kind to him.”
Addison wished Josephine could have given her insight into the man’s identity, but apparently Josephine had passed away long ago. The man could be anyone from Josephine’s time or after her death. Addison couldn’t provide more information—like a unique characteristic that Josephine might remember—because other than a snotty behavior, the man really had none. “What happened after Sara died? How did things change?”
“My daughter’s zest for life diminished each day until it no longer existed. She became a recluse. If you had known her before the accident, you wouldn’t have recognized the woman she became after Sara’s death. There was a time when she was the biggest socialite in the city. Sara’s death changed her, as it would any mother. Sucked the life right out of her. She lost her identity, relying on her husband for everything. She locked herself inside the manor, shutting herself away from family and friends.”
All these years later, not much had changed, and yet Cecilia had hung on.
Josephine studied Addison’s face, reading her thoughts.
“My daughter attempted suicide at least three times after Sara died,” Josephine said. “The first month after Sara’s death I visited her every day, trying to lift her spirits, get her out of bed and interested in life again. I thought it helped, until the day I showed up and was turned away.”
“By whom? Her husband?”
Josephine nodded.
“Why didn’t he let you see her?” Addison asked.
“He placed all the blame on my daughter. He said she couldn’t handle my optimism. She didn’t like me pushing her to be someone she had no interest in being anymore. He apologized and said it wasn’t personal. She had refused to see everyone.”
“Did you believe him?”
She shook her head. “Not a single word. I told him he needed to let me in. I wanted to hear it from her own lips.”
“And did he allow you inside?”
“Not that day, no. He showed me to the door and suggested I give her time to heal on her own. He was sure she’d come around, and when she did, he promised to call me. I stayed away for a few weeks, stewing over it. I called a few times, and my calls went unanswered. Then I decided I needed to do something.”
“What did you do?” Addison asked.
“I went to the police. I thought they would help me. It was a mistake. They said there was nothing they could do, which was a polite way of saying there was nothing they would do. Lawrence Belle was the most influential man in the city. No one went against him, and no one questioned him. Not back then.”
Addison thought of Amara Jane. So young. So fragile. So innocent. She couldn’t imagine not being part of her life.
“What did you do when the police refused to help you?” Addison asked.
“Two months came and went. I still hadn’t heard from her, and I’d had enough. One night I dressed in black from head to toe and drove to this gate we’re standing in front of now. I parked my car and walked the rest of the way. My plan was to slip inside and get my daughter. I made it to the front door before Lawrence caught me. I thought he’d send me away again. To my surprise, he invited me in.”
It was an interesting turn of events.
“Then what happened?”
“Lawrence woke Cecilia and sent me in to see her. She asked for a glass of water. He brought it to her and then said he’d leave us alone for a few minutes to chat.”
“How was she?” Addison asked.
“The best word I can think of to describe her behavior is bizarre. She wasn’t herself. At first, I assumed she was still in a dark place. Now, I’m not so sure. She’d changed so much in a short period of time. I questioned her about it, and she shrugged it off. She said she was tired because she never slept. Even if it had been true, a lack of sleep wasn’t the only thing that bothered me.”
“What else did you notice?”
“She was pale, as white as the sheets on her bed, and she seemed confused about who I was when I first entered the room. I didn’t understand it. I did most of the talking, and she offered a slight nod here and there. At times, she’d string together a garbled sentence, and I noticed her speech was slurred. It was hard to understand what she was saying.”
“What did you do?”
“The only thing I could do. I told her I loved her. I said I was there for her. I suggested she might feel better if she left the manor for a time and came to live with me. Before I left, I asked her to consider my proposal. She said she would. I knew Lawrence would never go for it, not even for a short time. The next day, I made an appointment with a lawyer to see if I could petition the court to have her released into my care.”
It was a risky move, and Addison admired Josephine’s grit and desire to do what needed to be done to protect her daughter.
“Did her husband know of your intentions?” Addison asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t believe so, not unless he was eavesdropping. I never said a word to him.”
“What did the lawyer say?”
“Right before we were scheduled to meet, I stopped off at the grocery store. Ten minutes later, I died.”
“How old were you when it happened?”
“Fifty-eight.”
“Any prior health problems?”
She shook her head. “Not a single one.”
It could have been a coincidence. She could have had a sudden heart attack, which led to her death, or Addison had just figured out something Josephine hadn’t yet.
“What happened after you spoke to your daughter that night?” Addison asked. “Did you see Lawrence again before you left?”
She nodded. “He made me a cup of tea. We sat down together in the parlor, and he told me it was hard to see Cecilia suffer like she had. He apologized for not letting me visit sooner and said he had honored her wishes to be alone. He walked me to the door, thanked me for stopping by, and invited me to return the next day.”
It seemed nice, too nice, all other things considered.
Addison didn’t buy it.
“I have a theory about what happened to you, what really happened, and why you’re still here, trapped between this life and the next. I don’t believe Sara is the only reason.”
Josephine tipped her head to the side. “I’m not sure what you mean. I’ve just told you what happened.”
“You told me what you know. I believe there are things you don’t know.”
“Such as?”
“It’s possible the tea Lawrence gave you was a slow release poison that didn’t take effect until the next morning.”
She reeled back in shock. “You think so?”
“I do. You’re bouncing back and forth between this life and the next. Like Sara, your death may be unresolved. They may even be connected.”
Josephine took a moment to let it sink in. “Let’s say you’re right. What happens now?”
“Now I find the truth.”