Chapter 25

 

Thursday (Thanksgiving)

 

“It still seems wrong, not to be taking some food along. It’s a great tradition. Who else is going to be there?” Abby asked.

“Mom and Dad, of course. Your parents aren’t coming, right?”

“Nope, they’d already made plans when I asked them.”

“Maybe next year, then. As for the rest, a couple of neighbors who’ve decided that since none of their offspring are around, they don’t feel like cooking a big meal. And probably some random strangers that Mom or Dad met somewhere and invited. When I was growing up, we never knew who we’d find around the table, but it’s kind of fun having a full house. After all, it was a feast centered on eating rather than patriotism or religion.”

“A good point. Ned, have you seen Johnny lately?”

“You mean my childhood friend Johnny? No, not since you and I saw him together that one time.”

Abby wondered if Sarah had told Ned yet that she had seen Johnny too. “Do you ever feel him there, even if you don’t see him?” Abby pressed.

“I don’t think so. You know I don’t spend a lot of time at the house, and I haven’t been looking for him. Why are you asking?”

“I’m not sure. I guess I’m kind of testing how our talents are working. We should be keeping some sort of journal, shouldn’t we? Because our story keeps changing. I’m sensing a lot more than I did in the beginning. You knew Johnny for years, until you shut him out. Think he’d answer again if you did go looking for him?”

“I’m not even going to guess, although it’s a fair question. But I’d hate to treat him as some sort of trained dog, who shows up when I call.”

“I know what you mean. It would be kind of rude. I wonder if Ellie would see him.”

“She saw Hannah, who’s probably more closely related to her than Johnny. She doesn’t go hunting for the dead these days, does she?”

“You’re asking me?” Abby said. “She knew about this before I did! And I think Hannah was the only one.”

“So, did you get her started on this, or was it the other way around? You haven’t discussed it with her?”

“No. She finds them, like that time in the Concord Cemetery. She was cautious about telling me because she didn’t know how I’d react. And she didn’t tell anyone about Hannah, in the beginning. On the other hand, she connected with Danny right away, and as far as we know he’s not a relative. But he’s not dead either.”

Ned sighed. “This is not the way to conduct an experiment, even if it isn’t a scientific one. We need to share this information with each other, and record it.”

“Sure, that’s a nice idea, but it’s so hard to keep things up to date. It could be an interesting spreadsheet, though. Person A saw Spirit X on this date and time. S/he also saw him/her and acknowledged his/her presence. Appearance? Et cetera. And the participants keep changing. I know we’ve added more people to our list, but it’s still only a handful—not a large enough sample, as you keep reminding me. And somehow I think holding meetings to chat about our psychic powers wouldn’t be the right approach. Isn’t that what they used to do around 1900?”

“But remember, Abby, there were a lot of people then who believed in reincarnation or parallel planes or whatever they chose to call it, or who wanted to.”

“Has your mother said anything about it lately?”

“Nope. What about yours?”

“No, but if I know my mother, she’s probably tackling this like any project. Like when she learned to knit. She wants to feel she’s got a handle on something before she goes public. Although I do hope she doesn’t start spreading it around once she feels comfortable with it.”

“No Psychic Circle group, instead of bridge?”

Abby checked to be sure that Ned was smiling. “I hope not! So, can we get back to my original question? Are we taking anything for the dinner?”

“A bottle of wine? I’ve got some good stuff laid away.”

“Great.”

They arrived at the Newhall house just past eleven. Abby liked the house, but she didn’t feel any personal attachment to it. It was a classic colonial, right on the Battle Road between Lexington and Concord, and completely authentic, not a twentieth-century replica. But while she had no connection to Ned’s Lexington house, she liked its style better, even though it was fussy and overdone by modern standards. But she wasn’t exactly modern, was she? Or not completely. Abby, don’t overthink it. You like Victorian, period.

Sarah Newhall greeted them warmly at the door, and Abby could hear the babble of voices in another room. “Abby, I’m so glad you could come!”

Through the kitchen door at the far end of the hall Abby spied Ned’s father, Edward, chopping vegetables. He looked up and smiled silently, and Abby tried to remember if she’d ever heard him speak. “Of course I could come, Sarah. Maybe next year we could do it at our place.”

“What? And upset a tradition that goes back generations? Nonsense. Come on in—it’s getting cold out. So, how did the Maguires work out?”

“They’re great. We decided to take the powder room out of that mingy little hole under the stairs and relocate it next to the washer and dryer.”

“Great idea! Are you going to close up the small space?”

Abby smiled. “Not at all. Ellie and I are transforming it into a games closet.”

“Ellie’s helping?”

“More than that—she’s doing half the work. She’s got a knack for construction. Plus, we’re having fun—we hope to have it finished by tomorrow, except for paint or varnish. And the Maguires are coming over tomorrow to take care of the plumbing for the new powder room. Oh, I should tell you, when they were first at our place, Leslie called with a plumbing crisis, so I sent them over to her house. I love this networking! We all share a plumber!”

“I’m so glad it worked out. Look, I have to go baste or boil something, so why don’t you come with me to the kitchen and watch me make a mess?”

Abby accompanied Sarah toward the room at the back. Edward had disappeared, so they had the kitchen to themselves. “So, who else is here?”

“The usual ragtag group of friends and neighbors. I always figure, the more the merrier for Thanksgiving. If I could find a Native American, I’d invite him too—it would round out the group nicely.”

“Wampanoags back then, weren’t they?”

“You’re learning! Yes, they were, and there are still a few local tribes around here. I just don’t happen to know any. Have you done the Plymouth thing?”

“Ned and I took a run through the town when we were trying to find our common ancestor, but I can’t say I know it. I’d love to take Ellie there, when it reopens in the spring.”

“Like ‘dowsing for ancestors’ in the old cemetery?”

“You mean the one on the hill in town? No, I’d like her to see Plimoth Plantation, which I’m told is one of the most authentic recreated historic sites in the country. And the other stuff in the town too, like Plymouth Rock. If she runs into an ancestor, that’s great, but that’s not the point.”

“I’d love to get to know Ellie,” Sarah said wistfully.

“I hope you will, but it may take a while. Leslie’s still having a hard time wrapping her head around having a child who sees dead people. And we still don’t know if her son shares that, which could double Leslie’s problems.”

Sarah sighed. “Problems none of us ever anticipated. So, I need to baste the turkey. Could you put the cranberry sauce in that bowl there?”

 

• • •

 

Dinner was a warm, casual affair. Like many old houses, there was a fireplace in the dining room, and Sarah had lit a fire, which made the room cozy, filled with flickering light that glinted off the wineglasses. If there were any ghosts in the room, they stayed invisible, but Abby thought they must be happy.

After a few hours, guests began drifting home singly or as couples. Abby stood up and said, “Sarah, at least let me help with the dishes. It’ll go faster with two of us.”

Sarah regarded her for a moment. “All right.” Then she raised her voice. “Friends, stay as long as you like, and don’t slip away without at least saying goodbye to me.” Then she turned back to Abby. “Come on, the dishes are calling!”

Nobody else volunteered, not even Ned, but Abby was relieved because she’d like to have a chance to talk more with Sarah. Which Sarah seemed to have sensed. “What’s up?” she said, as she loaded the considerable leftovers into storage containers.

“I’ve been talking to the head of a local school for autistic children, about a job. Maybe,” Abby told her.

“What’s a maybe job?” Sarah turned on the hot water and let it run.

Abby proceeded to tell her the discussions she and Ned had had, and her conversation with Christine, which had led to her meeting with Carolyn, and then the aftermath. Sarah listened without interrupting while she washed china and handed pieces to Abby to dry. When Abby had finished her summary, Sarah said, “And all this happened in two days?”

“Well, a day and a half, actually.”

“And in that time you made a connection with two different autistic children?”

“I think so.”

“How did Carolyn take the news?”

“Surprisingly well. I was worried that she’d kick me out on the spot. Sarah, it’s an ongoing problem, and I really haven’t figured out how to handle it yet.”

“You mean, revealing your superpowers to mere mortals? Sorry, I don’t mean to be facetious. I can imagine it’s tricky, trying to figure out what you can and can’t say.”

“You’ve got that right. If I don’t say anything about it, I have no outstanding qualifications, but if I do, I’m out the door. It’s like I’m walking on a tightrope, and if I slip and say the wrong thing, I’ll fall flat on my face. Still, I may not have spent much time there yet, but I think there’s hope that I can help the children. It’s so tricky!”

Sarah was silent for a long moment. “Abby, I may not be the right person to give you any advice, much less answers. You actually have more experience with this than I do. And you know the pitfalls. But you believe in what you’re doing, right? That you can help?”

“Yes, or I wouldn’t be doing it,” Abby told her. “Heck, I could go sell shoes at a mall. I could probably ‘feel’ when the buyer thought the shoe was comfortable and make a sale.”

“But reaching children’s minds trumps selling shoes, doesn’t it?”

“It does. But it comes with risks. At least if I was selling shoes, I could be pretty sure no one would burn me at the stake. Maybe lock me up, though. Or at the very least, fire me. My résumé is already a mess.”

“I do understand, Abby. And I won’t ask anything stupid, like ‘have you talked to Ned about this?’”

“Of course I have. You know, he’s got it easy. He can do whatever scientific experiments he chooses, as long as the participants agree and sign some kind of contract or waiver swearing they won’t talk about it to anyone, especially the press. But realistically, most people in the world don’t understand how scientific research works, especially when you’re doing things like mapping brain waves, and if he never publishes the results, no one will ever notice. In that sense he’s kind of safe. But for me, even if I get positive results with some percentage of the kids, I can’t actually tell people about it. It’s almost selfish of me, to keep that kind of information to myself, but right now, in this world, it’s not safe or useful to spread it around. Do you see my problem?”

“I do,” Sarah said. “But let me add something. I’ve known you, what, a year now? And when we met you’d just been slammed by this psychic thing, not to mention falling for my lovely son. But I’ve seen you grow so much, so fast, since then, and I really admire how you’ve handled all the curveballs. So I have no doubt that you can work this out. You’re careful, and you think about what you’re doing. And you are a good person—I think other people sense that, no matter what kind of odd things you do. Trust yourself.”

Abby found that she was near tears, and she hugged Sarah, wet hands and all. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Not that Ned isn’t supportive, but you’ve got a different perspective.” Abby wiped her eyes. “And who knows? The head of the school will probably make a decision by Monday, and I may be out on my ear, but we’ll figure something out.”

“I know you will. Hey, look at that! All the dirty dishes disappeared! And here comes Ned, just in time to miss the whole thing.”

He smiled mischievously at her. “Mom, that’s an art I perfected a long time ago. Anyway, the guests are gone—nobody wanted to interrupt the two of you because you both looked so intense—and I guess we should go too. Leslie’s dropping Ellie off at our place on her way to work tomorrow, so we’ll be up early. Dinner was great, as always.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. Take whatever leftovers you want, if there’s anything left. And Abby? Keep me up to date, will you? And send pictures of your new powder room.”

“I’ll do that.”

Outside it was beginning to get dark, and it was definitely colder. “I feel so lucky, because I really like your mother,” Abby told Ned.

“I do too. But you can borrow her when you need her.”

“Good!”