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SHE STARTED SLOWLY, trying not to stumble over her words. The last time she’d talked about her special abilities, she’d been ridiculed; she didn’t think she could bear to have that happen again.
“When I was a little girl, I had imaginary friends.” She gave him a quick look. “Like most kids. But it didn’t take long for me to realize that my friends were different. Mine were all from the past.” She paused for a moment. “I don’t know how I knew that, I just did. It didn’t happen all the time, but every once in a while I’d go into an old building and it was as if I could hear the voices of the people who’d lived there before; feel their emotions. Some people say they walk into a house and can sense bad vibes. This was similar to that, only stronger. I tried to tell my mother about it, but she shushed me up. I can still see the look of horror on her face when I tried to articulate it, so I never mentioned it again.” She started to shred the paper napkin. “At least to her.”
“When I started writing fiction for children, I gave my heroine the same abilities. I suppose you could say she’s a modern day Nancy Drew, except that the mysteries usually have something to do with the past. It gives me lots of scope.”
He pulled back, surprised. “I didn’t know you were a writer.”
She nodded. “I don’t talk about it much. The last time was a real disaster.” She leaned back and looked up at the stars, reliving the moment.
“I was going out with a lawyer in Calgary. We were getting serious; at least I thought we were. We were planning to move in together.” She chanced a look at him to see his reaction. He motioned for her to continue. “We were at a function for his company. You know the kind...suits and cocktail dresses.”
“Not really.”
“Fair enough. Anyway, I had wandered away from Carson and was speaking to some of the other lawyers and their wives. One of the women was saying that her daughter enjoys my books and asked me where I got my inspiration.” She lifted her shoulders. “A common enough question, but I don’t usually go into detail. For some reason this woman’s question caught me at the right time, or maybe it was the wrong time. Anyway, I started telling her about how I can sense things, and the place went silent. You would have thought I’d dropped the F-bomb or something. Carson came over and hustled me away.” She let out a strangled laugh. “He was livid; couldn’t understand why I would jeopardize his future with the firm. He went on about how he was in line to make partner and how he couldn’t afford to have me talking nonsense. You know what he said that hurt me the most?”
Jason shook his head.
“I can still see his face, hear his voice. He said ‘You write about this stuff as if you believe it.’” She could feel the anger building. “Of course I believe it, that’s the whole point.”
“He sounds like an arrogant ass.”
“I think maybe you’re right. At the time I didn’t argue, because I didn’t think it was an insurmountable problem. But after that things between us just got worse until we were barely speaking. A few weeks before I came here we decided to stop seeing each other.”
Jason scowled. “Is it a permanent split?”
Charlie’s thoughts drifted back to that day. “Definitely. Before I left I heard he was already seeing someone else.”
“Humph.”
Charlie was determined to tell him everything. “Anyway, that was it for a while, or maybe I avoided old buildings, I don’t know. I didn’t sense anything or hear any voices until I got here.”
“Here?” Jason’s body tensed. “What happened here?”
“It’s the farmhouse,” she said. “There are so many memories in there, good and bad. It’s full of old stuff; the attic is crammed with memories, and there are old portraits in the halls. That’s what happened to me tonight, at the dance hall. For a moment it was as though I became someone else.” She closed her eyes. “She was dancing, and she was so much in love.”
She opened her eyes to see Jason watching her with a faint smile on his lips. “Well what do you think? Am I certifiable?” She looked at him expectantly.
It was his turn to look out over the lake and gather his thoughts. After a moment he picked up one of her hands and held it between both of his. “I’m not sure I understand.”
Charlie shrugged. “How could you when I don’t understand it myself? You know, I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about this, not even my best friend.” She paused. “Well, I tried with her but she didn’t get it.”
He held her hand as though she might disappear. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Charlie. But I’m Mr. Practical, remember? The boring guy who just realized that he has no secret dreams?” He released her hand and wandered down to the lake. She was right behind him.
“You’re not boring.” How could she make him understand? “It’s important that you know that.” She remained silent for several moments, standing motionless beside him at the water’s edge.
Her hair had fallen into her eyes and he brushed it away, his touch achingly gentle. “What made you tell me about this?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because you’re close to Janelle. There’s something connected with the house that I’m supposed to discover. At least that’s the way I feel tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning I’ll be sorry I mentioned it.”
He picked up a pebble and tossed it into the water. They watched the rings widen and then disappear. “Like I said before, I can’t pretend to understand all this” he said, “but I’ll be happy to listen anytime you want to talk. Right now I should probably take you home.” She nodded her agreement and they wandered toward the street. Behind them, a shooting star blazed across the sky.
* * *
THE HEADLIGHTS SLICED through the darkness as Jason’s truck bounced along the driveway. The trip from town had been mostly silent.
“Are you okay out here by yourself?” His dimple was a dark slash in his cheek and his eyes glittered in the light from the dashboard. “I’ll walk you inside if you like.”
Charlie lifted her chin. “Don’t get me started or I might have to hurt you.”
Jason chuckled. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” He reached across in front of her and opened the door. As he pulled back, his eyes met hers and then dropped to her mouth. For what seemed like forever they sat looking at each other and then with a ragged breath, he pulled back. “I guess we should say goodnight.”
Charlie blinked, finally breaking eye contact. “Guess so.” She slid reluctantly from the seat. “Thanks for the ice cream and the walk. I enjoyed it.” She closed the door.
He leaned across the seat. “Would you like to try again next weekend? Say on Saturday?”
“Try what?” She grinned at him through the window.
“You like to make a guy work, don’t you?” He shook his head, but returned her smile. “Would you like to go to The Trip next Saturday? With me?”
Janelle’s dance instructor had better be good. “Yes” she said, “I’d like that.” She went up the back steps and turned with her hand on the screen door. He was sitting with one arm draped over the steering wheel and the other along the back of the seat. She couldn’t see his eyes but she could feel them on her.
“Goodnight” he called, his voice full of promise. Next weekend seemed like a long time away.
The house was eerily silent when she entered. Thomas was curled up in his favourite chair and she picked him up and cuddled him, burying her face in his fur. He tolerated her attention for a moment and then squirmed to be let down. Tail high in the air, he stalked toward the cat door and slipped out into the still night.
Charlie opened the fridge and stared at the food with unseeing eyes. She wasn’t hungry after the ice cream; looking into the fridge was more of a habit than anything. With a sigh, she headed for the stairs, grateful for the night lights that guided her along. At the top of the stairs, she turned toward her bedroom and then paused, drawn toward the compelling portrait of the young woman. She had only looked at it once before, but already it felt familiar. She turned on the overhead light and stood rooted to the spot, feeling an odd tug of kinship. The eyes looked back at her, almost alive. Beyond the heartache that Charlie saw in them, they seemed to be trying to tell her something. Willing the unknown woman to communicate with her, she reached out and touched the glass with her fingertips. It was cool to the touch and for a brief moment Charlie wondered if her imagination was running away with her. Was she trying to create a connection where none existed? With a last look into the woman’s eyes, she walked back to her room, flicking off the light switch as she passed.
Her room was a comfortable sanctuary with the bedside light casting a soft pink glow over the old quilt. She prepared for bed and slipped between the sheets, reaching out to turn off the bedside light. The moon was now higher in the sky; its pale, thin light bleaching the colour from familiar items, painting them in tones of grey and silver. She rarely noticed the moon at home. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually looked at it, let alone thought about it. But then a lot of things were looking different since she’d met Jason. She stared at the ceiling but didn’t see the shifting shadows cast by the moon. She saw long, muscled legs encased in faded blue jeans. She saw strong, confident hands on a steering wheel and generous lips turned up at the corner in a heart-stopping smile. She saw hair the colour of ripe wheat falling over eyes as blue as the prairie skies on a clear summer day.
Headlights illuminated the room and moments later a vehicle pulled up behind the house. Charlie turned her light back on, hoping her aunt would stop in for a quick visit. About a minute later, Janelle poked her head around the door.
“Are you still up?” She came into the room and sat on the foot of the bed. “Of course you’re still up or I wouldn’t be sitting here, would I?” She removed the ribbon and a band from her braid and started to loosen her hair, running her fingers through it and groaning with pleasure. “So tell me, did you have a good time? What do you think of The Trip?” Her hair billowed out around her shoulders. “You and Jason seemed to be getting along better. Did he ask you out?”
“Yes, for next Saturday.” Charlie sat up. “I hope your friend can teach me not to be such a klutz.”
“I’m sure he can. I saw him after you left and he’s agreed to meet you at The Trip on Tuesday morning. He says he’ll work with you right up to the weekend, but he thinks it probably won’t be necessary.”
“Why would he do this for me? He doesn’t even know me.”
Janelle gave her an odd look. “No, but he’s a friend of Matt’s and mine, and around here people help out their friends.”
“I guess I’m not quite used to that.” She changed the subject. “Did you have a good time tonight?”
“Yes, I did, but Jack scolded me for not introducing you.” She toyed with the ribbon she’d removed from her braid. “We’ve been going out for a few months, but I still feel guilty, as though I’m not being true to Matt’s memory.”
“Jason says Jack is a nice guy.”
Janelle smiled. “He is. Matt knew him, of course. He liked him, too.”
“Well then.” Charlie smoothed her hand over the quilt, choosing her words carefully. “It sounds like Uncle Matt would have approved,”
“You know something? You’re right. It’s time I stopped beating myself up for being human. I have a lot of years left.” Janelle looked at her steadily. “What about you? I hope you’re not going to let your experience with the former boyfriend influence your future relationships.”
“Maybe at first.” She felt a blush creep into her cheeks. “But not now.”
“Good.” Janelle picked up her crutches. “Let’s have breakfast together, okay? I bought a waffle iron because you were coming and I’m dying to try it out.”
“I saw some strawberries in the fridge.” Charlie slid down in the bed. “I can taste them already.”
Janelle leaned over and stroked her hair. “Goodnight, kid.”
* * *
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M having seconds.” Janelle dusted powdered sugar over the waffles and spooned strawberries on top. “But these are good.”
“I learned how to make waffles one year at camp. I was assigned to help out in the kitchen.” Charlie slid her plate into the sink and sat back down opposite her aunt. “I hope you’ll let me know what needs doing beyond the regular cooking or housework.”
Janelle licked powdered sugar from her lips. “I will, but we have to get our priorities straight. Dance lessons come first. She shoved her plate aside and took a sip of her coffee, cradling the mug in both hands. “By the way, how did you make out in the attic yesterday? I forgot to ask you.”
A tingling sensation crept down the back of Charlie’s neck. For some reason, she wasn’t quite ready to discuss what she’d discovered. She picked up her aunt’s plate and walked to the sink. “It was interesting. There’s a great spot to read up there, did you know?”
Janelle gave a vague wave of her hand. “I haven’t been up there in ages. The attic’s not my favourite place.”
“You were right about the books. There’s a good selection and a comfy chair and lamp. And oh, yes, that sweet little teapot that was on the table here the night I arrived.”
Janelle frowned. “Here?”
Charlie tapped the center of the table. “Yes, right here. It had lavender in it.”
A shadow crossed Janelle’s face and she shook her head. “No, you must be mistaken. I know the teapot you mean, but I haven’t seen it for years.” She smiled brightly. “I’ll bet you remember it from your visit here when you were small.”
“But...” Charlie looked at the spot where the teapot had been. She hadn’t imagined it, she was certain of that. Her thoughts raced. There was nothing to be gained from arguing with her aunt. Besides, she wanted to learn more. She shrugged. “That must be it. It’s really pretty. Is the lid around somewhere?”
Janelle sat back, tapping her fingernails on the side of her coffee cup. “There’s never been one. Not in my lifetime, anyway.” She fingered her braid. “There’s a story about that little teapot. Your grandma told me when I was about your age. At the time I thought it was terribly romantic. Now that I’m older, I’m not so sure.”
Charlie leaned forward eagerly.
“It belonged to your namesake.” Janelle’s gaze wandered around the kitchen, as though viewing it from a great distance. “Her name was Charlotte Freeman. She would be your great, great aunt. Your great-grandmother’s sister.”
Charlie’s pulse started to race. “Did she live here?”
“Yes. According to family history, she fell in love with a cowboy from Montana.” She brightened. “As a matter of fact, they met at the dance hall. Anyway, he arrived the summer of her eighteenth birthday and worked at a couple of the big ranches in the valley. Then he went off to earn money in the rodeos. He was thrown from a horse and killed.”
Charlie gasped aloud, but Janelle didn’t seem to hear.
“The story goes that when they told her about the accident, she was holding the teapot. She started to tremble all over and dropped the lid. She went up to the attic and they couldn’t get her to come down for days.”
Charlie was beginning to understand. “It’s romantic and sad at the same time.”
“That’s not all.” Janelle shook her head. “She and the cowboy had met at the dance hall and fell in love. They wanted to get married, but her mother and father refused, so they decided to elope. And get this: they were going to do it on the night of the full moon. They’d planned it that way so they could travel at night and get as far away as possible.” Janelle’s eyes filled with tears. “That night they were going to meet at the dance hall, and she went back there every time there was a full moon. That is, until she finally died of a broken heart.”
“And she never married.”
“No.” Janelle was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on Charlie’s face. “You know, you look quite a bit like her.”
“I do?” Charlie’s heart started to beat faster.
“Quite a lot, actually. That’s her picture in the upstairs hallway.”
“That young woman? She’s beautiful.”
Janelle cocked her head to one side and studied Charlie as though she were a chunk of granite she was about to sculpt. “If you pulled back your hair, you’d resemble her even more.” She jumped up and rummaged in a drawer. “I have a hairbrush in here somewhere. Oh, here it is.” She stopped, brush in hand. “Do you mind?”
Charlie was uneasy, but her curiosity was stronger. “Okay.”
With a few quick strokes Janelle pulled back Charlie’s hair and gathered it into a twist at the nape of her neck. “It’s a bit on the curly side but here, have a look and you’ll get the idea.” Janelle handed her a mirror.
Charlie examined the image in the mirror. The hairstyle changed her looks completely. Her face looked different...more elegant somehow, and the upswept hair emphasized her long neck.
“I guess I do look a bit like her.” She eventually tore her eyes away from the mirror. “Those are her trunks in the attic, aren’t they?”
Janelle nodded slowly. “I’d almost forgotten about those. I’ll admit that when I first heard the story I thought it must have been exaggerated over time, but seeing those trunks all packed and ready go to, I believe it. She really must have loved him.”
“How in the world would she have got out of here with those big things?”
“The story goes that after they met at the dance hall, they planned to come here, collect her trunks and head for Montana.”
“But what about her parents?” She gave a delicate shudder at the thought of the cold, unfeeling faces in the portrait.
“Apparently they were away at an agricultural fair.”
“Wouldn’t they have gone after her, forced her to come back?”
Janelle frowned. “I don’t think so. Things were pretty strict back then. My guess would be that once she’d run off, the family probably would have disowned her. Or perhaps they would have made up a story about why she’d gone away, but then we’ll never know, will we?” She tapped the hairbrush against her cheek, deep in thought. “I can’t imagine what her life was like after she learned that he’d died.” She raised an eyebrow. “Can you?”
Charlie shuddered. “I’d rather not, especially assuming that those are her parents in the portrait across from her.”
Janelle nodded.
“They look nasty. I’ll bet they made her life miserable.” She picked up the mirror again and studied her reflection. “I wonder if I’d have had the nerve.” She glanced over at her aunt. “You know...if it had been me?”
“I think you would have.” Janelle’s eyes grew misty. “Love is such a powerful emotion.” Her voice was so soft Charlie had to lean forward to her the words. “They say it lasts forever.”
Charlie believed her. Everything she’d learned about her ancestor confirmed it. Since arriving at Clearwater Springs, she had somehow tapped into Charlotte Freeman’s soul, with all its joy and sorrow. She knew without a doubt that the young woman with the haunted eyes loved as strongly today as she had all those years ago.
