Marie found Eva at the cemetery in an unlikely spot. The onetime silent screen star sat perched atop the Marlow family’s stone mausoleum, chatting with the ghost of Pamela Beckett, who sat by her side. Before Marie approached her friend, she observed the pair for a moment. Eva, who had died young, had refused to move on because of her premature death, while Pamela had lived out her life yet had wasted those years and hadn’t really lived, and because of that, she had also refused to move on.
After a moment, Marie approached her fellow ghosts, making her presence known. “Afternoon. Lovely day, isn’t it? What are you two up to? You look so serious.”
Eva turned to Marie and smiled. “We were discussing Pamela moving on.”
“Really? You’re ready?” Marie asked.
“I was thinking about it.” Pamela shrugged. Her gaze moved over the rows and rows of headstones. “Eva pointed out that by staying here and not moving on, is that any different from all those years I stayed in my childhood home, not having a life of my own? It wasn’t an actual ghost who helped cripple my spirit back then, but the residue of one because of a quilt my mother brought home. And is it any different now? I’m letting another spirit—Wesley—hold me here in some limbo.”
“How is Wesley holding you here?” Marie asked.
Eva looked from Pamela to Marie. “Wesley was the first spirit Pamela met when she arrived. And in many ways, Pamela understood instinctively about the possibilities of her energy, while Wesley, who had been here longer, didn’t even know how to change his shirt until Pamela explained.”
“He’s always been terrified of Eva, and I’m not sure why, but he doesn’t seem to like you, Marie,” Pamela said.
Marie chuckled. “It doesn’t surprise me. We have a bit of history.”
“I feel like my existence should be more than holding Wesley’s hand. Not literally, of course. I need more.”
“Before you go, can I ask you something?” Marie asked.
Pamela gave Marie a nod.
“What do you know about Wesley and his wife?”
“Just that he doesn’t want his wife to marry his brother.”
“Is it from jealousy?”
Pamela laughed. “I seriously doubt it. He doesn’t say the nicest things about her.”
“Supposedly, he’s convinced his brother plans to kill her for her money.”
Pamela nodded. “Yes. He believes that. But I don’t think he wants to prevent the marriage to save her life. I mean, yes, he wants to save her life. But it’s not because he’s trying to be a hero or that he cares about her.”
“Then why?” Eva asked.
“He’s rather terrified of moving on. For some reason, he thinks stopping the marriage will save her life, which he feels will minimize whatever judgment he might face when he does pass over.”
Marie shook her head. “What’s with these two meddlesome spirits? Running around frantically trying to earn some last-minute brownie points to make up for a lifetime of misdeeds. We know what Clay’s misdeeds are, but what did Wesley do?”
Pamela shrugged. “I don’t know if he’s done anything.”
“Do you know why he’s convinced his brother plans to murder his wife?” Marie asked.
Pamela shook her head. “No. Do you have any other questions?”
Marie thought about it for a moment before answering, “No.”
Pamela smiled at Marie and Eva. “Then tell Wesley I’ve gone.”
And just like that, Pamela Beckett moved on in her journey.
“When she said gone, did she mean…” Marie started to ask.
“Yes, she moved on,” Eva finished for Marie as she floated down from the headstone.
“I just wish Clay and Wesley would move on.” Marie then told Eva what had been discussed over at Marlow House that afternoon.
After Marie finished, Eva asked, “Did I ever tell you when I played the Ghost of Christmas Past in a rendition of A Christmas Carol right here in Frederickport? I was just fifteen at the time…”
“Yes, dear, you can tell me all about it after we go check on the Bowman twins and see if we can figure out what they might be doing tomorrow.”
“Why can’t we go to the beach tomorrow?” Zack asked his mother. He stood next to her at the kitchen sink in the garage apartment as she washed dishes.
“Go grab a tea towel and dry these dishes,” she told him.
In the living room, his brother sat at the card table his mother had squeezed in one corner. White typing paper and colored markers were scattered across the table, with some pieces of paper already drawn on. Eric listened to his brother while he colored in his picture. It was a monster eating a man. Earlier, when Zack had asked who the man was, Eric told him, “Chief MacDonald.”
“If I dry the dishes, can we go to the beach tomorrow?” Zack asked his mother.
The next moment, Eva and Marie stood in the middle of the apartment.
Zack’s mother turned to him, hands now on hips, and said angrily, “No, you cannot go to the beach tomorrow. And you can’t go the next day. You are both under house arrest, and until this matter is settled, and you boys show significant regret, you won’t be going anywhere.”
“Are you going to keep us in this house forever?” Zack whined.
“I suppose that’s up to you. Now dry these dishes and put them away.”
Marie and Eva quietly observed the encounter, each noticing the other brother stayed quiet, keeping his head down and focusing on whatever he was drawing.
“It looks like we have our answer. The boys are going to be here in this apartment for a while,” Eva said.
Marie watched as Zack’s mother grabbed a towel from the counter and tossed it at him before storming off to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her. Reluctantly, Zack started drying the dishes. “Why don’t you come put these away for me?”
Eric looked over at his brother from the card table. “Mom asked you to do it.”
“You butt.”
“Charming boys,” Eva muttered from the sidelines.
“We can’t have someone knock on the door and deliver Clay’s message,” Marie said. “I envisioned something more like the boys being at the library, and we get Olivia to hand a note to the boys and say, ‘This is from your father.’”
“Yes, dear, while that is all very dramatic, and you know I love drama, perhaps we should go for something a little more direct and immediate. Get this done now.”
Marie looked at Eva. “What do you mean?”
“You can harness energy. Go over there, pick up one of those markers, and write them a note. If you want some drama, make sure they see you writing the note. Well, not you exactly, but you know what I mean.”
Marie stared at Eva for a moment. “You’re right. We were all overthinking this.”
“Do it now, while their mother is in the bedroom. No reason for her to get more upset than she already is. After all, her late husband is a murderer, and her two sons seem to be following in his footsteps. Did you notice that picture the one at the table is coloring?”
Marie moved over to the card table and looked down at the picture, her attention drawn to the bright red blood dripping from the monster’s sharp fangs. “Who do you suspect the monster is eating?”
“Does it matter?”
Marie shrugged and then reached for a marker.
Eric chewed on his lower lip as he focused on his picture, when he decided to add a few red slashes across the man’s throat. He looked up from the drawing, searching for a red marker, when he spied a black marker float up from the table. He froze as his eyes widened at the sight.
As the marker hovered above the table, a blank piece of paper drifted up in the air and floated toward him, landing atop his drawing. Unable to move, he stared down at the blank piece of paper covering his drawing and failed to see the cap coming off the black marker. The next moment, the marker wrote across the paper. The words slowly appeared: That was not a twin dream. Your father was there. Listen to him next time.
The marker dropped to the table, and Eric let out a scream and jumped up from his chair.
Zack turned from the sink and saw his brother pressed against the wall, staring at the card table.
“What are you doing?” Zack asked.
Eric pointed to the table but didn’t move.
Zack rolled his eyes, tossed the damp tea towel on the counter, and walked over to the table. “What, is there a spider or something? You scared of spiders now? Can’t you just smash it instead of acting like a stupid girl?”
“Look!” Eric’s right hand quivered as he pointed to the table.
Zack walked over to the table and looked down at the pieces of paper. He spied the note, picked it up, and then read it. After reading the note, he tossed it on the table and looked at his brother. “Funny. Ha ha. You are so lame.”
“I didn’t write that!”
“Sure you didn’t. Stop being such a jerk.”
Just as Zack turned back to the card table, prepared to walk around it en route to the kitchen, he froze when a piece of blank paper floated up from the table and landed on the paper Zack had just tossed there. As Zack stared down at the paper, the black marker lifted from the table.
“Look!” Eric shouted, pointing at the marker.
Zack looked from the blank paper to the marker and watched as the marker floated toward him and then stopped above the piece of blank paper. Zack’s mouth fell open as he watched the marker write: Your brother did not write that note. Your father will visit your dream again.