Spirit Talk: (Book One of The Fiona Series) Read online

  Fiona stood and walked toward Ann. Her feet in crocheted slippers made no sound. She wrapped her arms around her sister. They stayed like that for a long moment, looking at their strikingly similar reflections in the lamplit kitchen window, wondering about the future and remembering the past.

  Chapter 5

  At the bus station, Fiona’s mother was aflutter with last minute warnings about not talking to strange men and certainly not sitting near them. Theresa nervously rocked her weight back and forth between her left and right legs. Her arms were crossed over her chest. When Fiona finally convinced her that she would speak to no one and sit only near women, Theresa launched into dire warnings about how cold it got in northern Minnesota. “You won’t believe it. There’s more snow than a person can endure.” Theresa promised to send Fiona her warm winter coat, which they’d forgotten to take from their house when they’d fled the flood. Fiona was wearing her light winter jacket and she was already shivering.

  Fiona had said her goodbyes to Ann and Nula at home; Ann packed her enough sandwiches and muffins to feed everyone on the bus. The bag emitted a warm cinnamon scent from the muffins and a tang from the chicken salad.

  Nula’s goodbye kiss, accompanied by a sweet smile, still lingered on Fiona’s cheek. Nula was blissfully unaware of what “goodbye” meant, and Fiona hid her tears for Nula’s sake. Nula’s pink cheeks were soft and warm and her tiny hands felt magical around Fiona’s neck. When she kissed Nula’s head, Fiona tried to memorize the reddish swirls in Nula’s brown curls. She didn’t have to try and memorize Nula’s large hazel eyes; Fiona could never forget their innocent beauty.

  Now, next to the rumbling Greyhound bus, Rick pretended to shake Fiona’s hand, then laughed and pulled her into a big hug. He was wearing a padded flannel coat and Fiona could detect the scent of hay on the fabric as she lingered for a second in his comforting embrace. “Have an adventure up there,” Rick said, handing over her carry-on bag. Fiona’s big suitcase was already stowed in the luggage compartment of the bus, which was chuffing noisily behind them as the passengers boarded. The smell of diesel fuel was thick in the cold air.

  Fiona kissed her mother, who whispered, more to herself than to Fiona, “I hope this wasn’t a mistake.” Fiona took one last whiff of her mother’s tea rose perfume and squeezed her playfully. Theresa tried not to smile but couldn’t stifle her grin.

  Fiona made a mental note to tell Ann about Theresa’s parting words. When she finally settled into a window seat with no one next to her, she felt immensely relieved. She was ready to stop wondering about her future and begin experiencing it. Her jeans slipped against the well-worn bus seat as Fiona leaned forward to give her family one last parting wave. Theresa looked forlorn.

  The first leg of the trip, from Chicago to Milwaukee, was dull and gray and Fiona read her book or dozed. The scenery was boring and familiar. For the second part of the trip, however, from Milwaukee to Minneapolis, the sun came out. She turned her face to the window and admired how the trees grew more and more colorful as the bus drove further and further north. Some of the trees sported leaves so deeply orange and red that Fiona wished she owned a camera. The deep colors stirred her and she wished she had someone there with to ooh and ahh with.

  At the transfer in Duluth, Fiona felt stiff from sitting. Her legs and lower back protested when she stood. She bought a hot coffee from a vending machine, then wandered around outside the bus station to stretch before the last leg of the trip. That would be from Duluth to Virginia, Minnesota, where Grandma Mary would meet her and drive her back to Fireside. Actually, Grandma Mary didn’t own a car, so her friend was driving. Fiona wondered about “the friend” and hoped it wasn’t a boyfriend. It was going to be strange enough to get reacquainted with her grandmother without having to get to know a step-grandfather figure at the same time. Fiona wished she knew more about her grandmother’s life. I hope this wasn’t a mistake, she thought.

  The sight of Lake Superior stirred Fiona. Sunlight danced on the waves. Boats large and small glided over the surface and they looked like toys from a distance. It looked wilder and more romantic to Fiona than Lake Michigan did. Maybe it was the sight of the enormous cargo ships and the spectacular aerial bridge at the entrance to the harbor. Maybe it was the way Duluth was built so that one could stand and look down at the city, harbor and lake simultaneously. In Chicago, you needed to be in a high rise to get a similar perspective.

  Fiona had loved going downtown with her parents and Ann and eating at the restaurant on the 95th floor of the John Hancock building. The sight of the city below them was surreal but spectacular. Once, they’d gone during a thunder storm and the building had been struck by lightning. The surge of electricity traveled instantly up and down the enormous lightning rod outside and Fiona felt the fiery pulse in her chest.

  Fiona admired the view for as long as she could before the bitter wind drove her back inside the station. Her hair was flat against her head and she went into the Ladies Room to try and fluff it. She wanted to look nice when her grandmother saw her for the first time in years. Fiona felt very alone as she stood in front of the small mirror under fluorescent light. She wished Ann or Janie were there to share the experience.

  As the bus drove north, the landscape segued from buildings, stores, and neighborhoods into forest, dotted here and there with little towns and occasional homes among the trees. Fiona often caught glimpses of lakes spread out in the woods. The sight of the sun dappling the water, glimpsed so briefly, was as thrilling as catching sight of a bright jewel. She wondered what the people who lived in the towns were like, and what they were doing. As the light faded, however, Fiona drifted to sleep, slumped against her small carry-on bag on the still-vacant seat next to her. The other passengers were quietly spread out in the bus, which was more than half-empty. Her mother needn’t have worried; no one tried to talk to her.

  *****

  She woke with a start when the bus noisily braked at the Virginia stop. She wished she had stayed awake so she wouldn’t look bleary and sleepy-eyed when her grandmother first saw her. She ran her hands nervously over her hair and face as she stood in line to de-board. Fiona was looking down at the rubber mats on the metal steps as she exited the bus, and when she looked up, Grandma Mary was five feet in front of her, smiling and holding out her arms.

  “Fiona, my dear girl,” she said happily.

  Fiona wished she’d brushed her teeth in the Greyhound’s disgusting little sink. “Hi, Grandma,” she mumbled, returning the hug. She felt suddenly clumsy because Mary was tiny. Fiona was much taller than she’d been the last time they’d seen one another, and now her chin almost cleared her grandmother’s gray head.

  Grandma Mary looked like a grandmother now. She was much older than the woman Fiona remembered from their last visit when Fiona was almost eleven. Then, Mary’s long white locks hung loose and full and romantic. Now, Grandma Mary’s thinning hair was rolled in the back and held in place with a plastic clip. Her face was gaunt, more lined and hollow than Fiona remembered, but her eyes were still dark and clear. She was wearing her trademark red lipstick, something Fiona realized that she remembered about her grandmother. It looked to be the same shade as Theresa’s lipstick. She realized that there were buried memories in her mind.

  She and her grandmother stood for a moment after they pulled out of the hug, appraising one another with great interest. Grandma Mary then introduced her to Ginny, her “best friend,” and Fiona was relieved. Ginny was a pleasant-looking woman somewhere in age between Theresa and Mary. Her hair, a striking shade of blond, was beautifully coiffed. Her makeup was exaggerated but immaculate and her lipstick was bright pink. Ginny looked on exuberantly as grandmother and granddaughter reunited. She seemed as excited about Fiona’s arrival as Grandma Mary was.

  “You were a little girl last time I saw you!” Grandma Mary exclaimed. “Now, you’re a young woman. You look just like your mother did at your age.” She reached out and touched Fiona’s hair, tucking
a stray strand behind Fiona’s ear. “Lovely,” she said thoughtfully. Her dark eyes were warm and possibly wet as she looked lovingly at Fiona.

  Fiona felt her cheeks burn and looked away, feeling suddenly very young and shy. She noticed that her large suitcase had been unloaded and was now sitting alone on the sidewalk next to the bus. “I’ll just go grab my suitcase,” she said, hurrying towards it. The idling engine of the bus trembled and groaned. When Fiona tried to lift her suitcase, she was shocked at the weight; Rick made it look easy when he swung it effortlessly. She hoped Ginny’s car wasn’t too far away as she awkwardly hefted the large case, which bumped painfully against her legs with each step. As she struggled, she observed how small and rural the town of Virginia looked compared to Duluth. It was pretty, though, and her eye lingered on an antique shop on the corner: the storefront was full of colorful china and lamps and other delightful items. Ann would be in heaven in such a shop.

  Ginny’s car was a beat-up brown station wagon, and, with Ginny’s help, Fiona slid the suitcase into the rear after Ginny pushed aside a large snow brush and a bag of cat litter. Fiona climbed into the back seat and the older women scurried into their seats in front, everyone shivering in the cold wind. “Gets cold early up here,” Ginny said, looking at Fiona in the rearview mirror as she started the engine. The heater sent a gust of hot air into the back seat and Fiona shivered with pleasure at the warmth. “It’s good your grandma crochets the warmest mittens in town!”

  “Oh, you crochet?” Fiona asked, looking excitedly at her grandmother. “So do I! My Grandma Kate taught me.” As soon as the words came out, Fiona regretted them. Now was not the time to mention her other grandmother, the one she’d grown up knowing. Fiona thought fleetingly of the many weekends she’d spent at her Grandma Kate’s apartment, learning to crochet in the afternoon and watching The Love Boat and Fantasy Island until bedtime.

  “I do!” Grandma Mary enthused, not seeming bothered by the reference to Grandma Kate. Fiona figured that Grandma Mary must have met Grandma Kate at some point, at least at her parents’ wedding. Fiona made another mental note to discuss this with Ann. There was so much they didn’t know about their parents’ early married life. Why were there no wedding photos? “We do lots of crocheting at the shop, so it’s a real bonus that you already know how.”

  “I can make quilts, too,” Fiona added. “Ann and I both love to sew, but she’s better than I am at clothes. I like quilts because it’s all straight seams. We made a Celtic knot quilt together once, though, for my mother’s birthday. It was really hard for me.” Fiona remembered struggling to sew the tiny tubes of fabric to the base cloth.

  Grandma Mary turned to her and laughed. “You really are like your mother! She couldn’t stand to sew anything but a straight line.”

  “My mother sewed?” Fiona asked, surprised. “I never saw her sew.” This was news! Theresa always said she didn’t know how and did not want to learn.

  Grandma Mary replied, without turning around this time, “She sewed all right, but she never liked it. I made her learn because I needed help in the spring when the girls in town wanted prom dresses or bridesmaid’s dresses. I always had too much business in the spring and not enough business the rest of the year.”

  Then, her grandma faced her, her eyes reflecting sadness. “I think it was embarrassing for your mother to help make dresses for the girls who could afford a custom gown.” Mary looked out the window and Fiona could see her grandmother’s scalp through the part in her gray hair. Next to her, Ginny was casually steering the car with one hand.

  “I never heard about that,” Fiona remarked. Another thing to tell Ann. Then, wanting to undo any bad feelings the conversation had unleashed, she said, “Well, I love crocheting and sewing and I hope you’ll teach me everything you know. I can help you in the shop.”

  Fiona saw Ginny and her grandmother exchange quick smiles and she felt better. “My eyes aren’t what they used to be,” Grandma Mary sighed, “and I don’t sew much anymore, but I can see well enough in bright daylight. I’m actually counting on you to help in the shop.”

  “I look forward to it,” Fiona told her. “I worked in a pizza restaurant in high school, so I know how to work a cash register.” She leaned back and peered out the window with great interest as they drove closer and closer to the town of Fireside.

  “Did you make the pizzas, too?” Ginny asked.

  “I did. It was a small restaurant and we traded off doing everything: phone orders, the cash register, and making the pizzas in the back. We even took turns delivering pizzas when it got super busy,” Fiona said.

  “That sounds like a fun job,” Ginny remarked.

  “It was,” Fiona agreed. “My best friend worked there, too, and we became friends with the delivery drivers. We used to have little parties after we closed at night. The couple who own the place trusted us to hang out after hours.” They shouldn’t have, Fiona thought, remembering all the beer.

  As they drove, Fiona thanked Ginny for picking her up at the bus station. She was so overwhelmed that she had temporarily forgotten her manners. “It’s my pleasure, hon,” Ginny said. “I’m so excited to meet you.” She met eyes with Fiona briefly in the rearview mirror and smiled.

  The spruce, cedar, and pine trees along the highway swayed in the wind. A disembodied spirit whispered in Fiona’s ear, The trees talk to each other. When the voice finished its comment, Grandma Mary looked back at Fiona from the passenger seat. When their eyes met, Fiona suspected, from that one glance, that her grandmother also heard the voice. Grandma Mary smiled faintly and turned away.

  Fiona wondered if her grandmother already knew about her “gift.” Maybe Fiona displayed signs of it when she was a little girl on a visit so many years before? This possibility seemed to suddenly explain how events conspired to bring Fiona to her Grandma Mary when she was supposed to be in a dorm room in downstate Illinois with Janie, going to classes and beer bashes. Her new life was very different from what she’d expected as she worked her way through high school, diligently bringing home good report cards to her father. Weirdly, though, it all felt perfectly right as the station wagon cruised into downtown Fireside and stopped in front of Mary’s Sewing Bee.

  The ladies were in a hurry to get out of the car, pull Fiona’s suitcase from the rear, and scurry into the warm shop. Fiona, however, paused to check out Main Street. It was almost exactly how she remembered it. There was the Maple Moose on the corner, where her parents took them for pancakes and cup after cup of coffee for her dad. The sign depicted a smiling moose with a bib. There was the grocery store right across the street, the Golden Goose, which was a relief because Fiona no longer had access to a car. Down a block to the south was a little bakery that Fiona didn’t remember called The Fun Bun.

  Numerous colorful t-shirt and eclectic souvenir shops, bars, clothing stores, and restaurants lined the rest of the street to the north. It reminded Fiona of downtown Lake Geneva in Wisconsin and also of the Wisconsin Dells. Compared to the slick strip malls back in Illinois, Fireside looked like a town from the 1950’s. There were a couple of “outfitters” who helped campers and fishermen get supplies and gear for their trips to the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness north of Fireside. At the far end of town were a series of motels and some larger department stores and auto dealerships, as well as apartments. A frozen custard stand, shuttered for the winter, was noticeable due to its bright red roof. At the crest of the hill, Mary’s Sewing Bee had a view of most of the town.

  Fiona remembered that Fireside was a busy place in the summer, as it was the last chance for a hot meal and shower before fishermen and women set off on wilderness adventures in the Boundary Waters. In October, however, the town was much quieter. Fiona was used to long Illinois winters with mountains of snow, but she’d heard it was nothing compared to what she would experience in northern Minnesota. She wasn’t too worried, though; as a bookworm, Fiona liked it when forced to stay indoors. Speaking of which, she reminded herself
to find the library and any bookstores in town first thing in the morning. She only felt completely safe and comfortable when accompanied by a book or two.

  Now, however, Fiona hunched her shoulders against the wind and hefted her suitcase up the six steps leading to Mary’s Sewing Bee. Her grandmother held the door open as Fiona maneuvered the bulky case through the narrow entrance. The shop was cozy and lamplit and she immediately felt warmer when she stepped inside. She let her suitcase rest a moment as she looked around, joyfully taking in the rainbow of colorful yarns arranged on the shelves. The colors were stacked like a real rainbow: red, pink, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple. Behind the long counter was a display of various needles and other knitting and crochet items. For a crafter, it was heaven on earth.

  “Oh, this is so wonderful.” Fiona sighed, her head swiveling to take in everything. Chairs were arranged in a cheerful circle in the center of the room.

  Grandma Mary laughed and touched Fiona’s arm as she squeezed past her to open the door in the rear of the store that led up to her apartment. “Thank you,” Mary said. “I try and stock a lot of yarn before winter sets in. The ladies in town do a lot of needle work in the cold weather. Come upstairs now, though, and let’s get you settled. You must be starving and exhausted.”

  Fiona didn’t feel either of those things. She was wide awake with excitement and anticipation at seeing her new home. The dark, narrow stairs were a challenge with her suitcase, but she finally dragged it over the last step and entered a large living room. Like the shop, it was warmly lit with soothing lamps instead of overhead fluorescence. Fiona looked around slowly. There was a velvety-looking couch, romantic antique chairs draped in colorful scarves, a pleasantly heavy-looking coffee table, and delicate end tables. The old furniture might have looked shabby in someone else’s house, but Mary’s decorative touches made it look elegant.