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

  Ryan’s sleeping face reminded Fiona of Nula and she couldn’t wait to write to Ann and tell her all about Henry and Ryan and Grandma Mary. She wished she could call Ann, but there was little privacy in her grandmother’s small apartment and she felt funny placing a long-distance call from Henry’s phone.

  Fiona started the paprikash, dreamily chopping the onion and browning the pieces in butter before she added the chicken, salt, and sweet paprika. She looked curiously around the kitchen as she cooked. She wanted to get a sense of Carol, and who she was.

  The smell of the onions and chicken in the hot butter made her stomach growl. When the meat was golden, she added water, turned the heat down on the burner as low as it would go, and left the chicken to simmer. Next, she mixed the brownie batter, adding half the bag of chocolate chips, then slipped the buttered and floured baking pan into the oven.

  Was Carol watching? she wondered. She felt self-conscious as she opened Carol’s kitchen cupboards and drawers. The kitchen was untidy but it looked like it had once, not too long ago, been well-organized. The jars in the spice drawer had small, hand-written labels on their lids. The plastic containers in another drawer all had matching lids.

  As she tidied the kitchen and set the table for dinner, Fiona wondered about Carol. What had her life been like before she got sick? Was she from Minnesota or someplace else? Had she worked before she had Ryan? There were pictures of Carol and Henry and Ryan all over the house and, based on the photos, Fiona guessed that she had been a very happy woman. How did someone, especially someone so young, deal with a deadly diagnosis of cancer? Fiona couldn’t imagine. She hoped that Carol had believed she was going to beat it. The alternative was unthinkable: knowing that you were going to die and leave behind a baby and a husband. The sky outside darkened momentarily and Fiona shivered. She wished she’d brought a sweatshirt to pull on over her long-sleeved shirt.

  Fiona wondered why there weren’t any grandmothers or aunts rushing in to care for Ryan. She made a mental note to ask her own grandmother that night. Fiona then sat on the couch and pulled an afghan over her shoulders, more tired than she realized. As she rested, she decided to try an experiment. She closed her eyes and attempted to empty her mind. She sat for a few moments with her eyes closed, then asked out loud to the room, “Carol, are you here?”

  She kept very still and waited. A car passed on the road outside and made slushing sounds in the snow. The kitchen clock ticked audibly, but she didn't hear or feel anything else. No voices whispered in her ear or images flashed in her mind. She felt herself starting to drift off to sleep. Just as her thoughts grew fuzzy, she felt the air around her right ear grow warm and a woman’s voice murmured, “The red bear,” then “stairs.”

  Fiona’s eyes opened in surprise. She looked around the living room, expecting to hear more. Nothing. “Red bear,” Fiona said aloud, “is…on the stairs?” Nothing. Carol? she inquired of the empty room.

  Fiona thought it sounded like a nursery rhyme. Maybe it was from a book Carol had read to Ryan. She stood and walked up the stairs slowly, looking all around, but there weren’t any stuffed toys in sight, just a plastic Tonka truck and a small basketball. At the top, Fiona peeked into Ryan’s room and saw that he was still sleeping peacefully. The radiator let out a cozy hiss and the room was toasty. She rifled as quietly as possible through the books on Ryan’s shelf for one with a red bear on the cover. None. She checked the closet and toybox for a stuffed red bear but couldn’t see one. How odd, she thought.

  She leaned down over Ryan’s dresser to inspect a photo of Carol gazing, radiantly, at a newborn Ryan. Carol had glossy dark brown hair in a bob and a pretty, elfin face. She looked too young to be married with a baby. If Carol was around, Fiona hoped she knew how very sorry she was that Carol was gone. Fiona tenderly glanced at Carol’s beautiful baby boy, then backed out of the room.

  To her right, Fiona saw through an open door what must have been Henry’s room. She saw an unmade bed and a pair of boots next to an overflowing laundry basket. Oh dear, she thought. Her own father had been very neat and, even if Fiona’s mother hadn’t been around for some reason, his house would have remained tidy. There would have been no overflowing laundry baskets and unmade bed. There would not have been any odiferous leftovers in the refrigerator. The dead plants would have been cleared from the porch as soon as they browned. Poor Henry, she thought.

  *****

  Much to Fiona’s relief, the paprikash turned out well. Right after Grandma Mary returned on foot, once again out of breath, and Henry pulled up to the curb in his pickup, Fiona boiled the egg noodles. Henry and Mary and Ryan sat at the kitchen table and conversed and watched Fiona as she fussed at the stove. Henry pulled a beer from the refrigerator and offered one to the women, but they declined. Fiona had drunk beer with her friends in high school, but she didn’t like the way it tasted and didn’t miss it.

  When the noodles were limp and tender, she drained them and used tongs to place a fluffy portion in each of three bowls. Then, she dropped two thighs apiece from the pot atop the noodles, ladling the buttery sauce, now a pale orange from the sour cream, over each dish. The scent was intoxicating.

  Ryan, sitting in his high chair and beaming at his father, got a plastic dish of buttered noodles and chicken pieces. Fiona guessed that Ryan should probably have some vegetables, too, but she hadn’t thought to cook any. Ryan hungrily put a noodle in his mouth, then banged his tray with his fists. “Pretty tasty?” Henry asked him.

  Fiona nervously took a first bite and knew immediately that she’d somehow managed to replicate her dad’s recipe. The chicken was so moist it fell apart with just the gentle nudge of a fork and practically melted into the glistening noodles. The salted sauce was piquant from the added sweetness of the paprika. Inwardly, Fiona sighed in relief. Even if it wasn’t as good as what Henry’s old aunts made, it was nothing to be ashamed of, either.

  Henry, seated across the table from her, shut his eyes as he chewed his first mouthful. The sight of his eyes closed in pleasure made Fiona’s cheeks warm. She remembered the expressions of pleasure that had crossed Ted’s face when they’d made love in the back of his car. She hoped that Henry and her grandmother would think, if they noticed, that her pink cheeks were due to the steam from the noodles. She took a long sip of cold water from her glass and held an ice cube in her mouth.

  “Oh my God, delicious,” Henry said appreciatively, swiping his full lips with his napkin.

  “Fiona, this is so good. I’m impressed. You must have gotten your cooking skills from your father because, as I recall, your mother doesn’t love to cook,” Mary laughed. She paused with her fork in the air.

  “Yeah, my dad was really into the whole cooking thing. He made something special a couple times a week.” Fiona smiled as she remembered her father in an apron bent over the stove. He was a perfectionist in the kitchen, as well as in every other aspect of his life. He used to make them wait for the meat to “rest” after he pulled it from the oven, something that had infuriated Fiona when she was hungry.

  Henry placed his fork on his plate and leaned back in his chair a moment while he took a sip of beer. “Is your dad...” he started. “Did your dad stop cooking for some reason?”

  Fiona paused a beat, hoping her grandmother would jump in and rescue her, but Mary didn’t say anything. “He passed away,” Fiona said quietly. She hated mentioning death and she glanced at Ryan, but he was busy trying to grasp the slippery noodles in his dish and bring them to his mouth.

  “That’s tough, to lose a parent at your age,” Henry said quietly after a moment. “I’m so sorry.” The awkwardness of the remark hung in the air until Mary finally came to the rescue.

  “How were things down at the bank today?” She asked in a cheerful tone, reaching out to help Ryan drink from his plastic cup. He made a cute, satisfied “Ahh” sound, then brought his cup down hard on his high chair’s tray.

  “It was kind of crazy. We got held up,” Henry said casuall
y, looking down at his plate as he plunged his fork into a chunk of chicken.

  “What?” exclaimed Mary and Fiona simultaneously, dropping their forks.

  “Yup. Around two o’ clock, a group of older ladies came in. They all had knitting bags on their arms, and one pulled out some really long knitting needles and told the teller to hand over all the money.” Henry shook his head. “Those were some tough ladies. They got away with a couple grand.”

  Fiona laughed into her napkin and Mary said, “Oh, Henry, you had me going for a second.” She made a swatting gesture toward him. “You’re like my dear husband, always pulling people’s legs.”

  “Fiona,” Henry said with a sly smile, “one thing you’re going to learn is that not a lot happens in Fireside. It’s a quiet town.” He picked up his chicken piece in order to pull the last of the meat from the bone.

  “That’s okay,” Fiona said. “It’s so beautiful here. It doesn’t need a lot else going on. Everyone here does outdoorsy stuff, right?” She wondered if she should offer seconds to Henry but decided that it would seem too “wifely.”

  “Right,” Henry said. “Boating, fishing, camping, and hiking in the summer and snowmobiling in the winter. Ice skating and hockey, too, if that’s your thing.”

  “I like horseback riding,” Fiona said. “My sister’s husband runs a stable and riding school back home. I used to ride all the time.” Fiona thought of Queenie’s long, beautiful face watching hopefully as Fiona approached her stall with an apple.

  “I have a buddy with horses,” Henry said. “I’m sure he’d be happy to have you come out and ride when the weather is good.”

  “That would be cool.” Fiona smiled. “I really miss it.” She stood and began clearing the dishes. She felt self-conscious at the thought of Henry watching her as she moved about the kitchen. She pulled her shirt down in case it had ridden up during dinner.

  “That was outstanding!”’ Henry proclaimed. “Thank you. It was just like my mom used to make, and it sure beat pizza. The pizza delivery guy is going to think I’m sick or something tonight.”

  “Pizza!” Ryan pronounced perfectly.

  “I’m so glad you liked it,” she replied. “And there’s leftovers, too, for your dinner tomorrow. Oh, and I almost forgot!” She reached for a plate of neatly cut brownies and placed it on the table. She’d dusted the brownies with confectioner’s sugar that she’d found in the pantry. Fiona thought proudly that the brownies looked like they’d come from a bakery.

  “Wow,” Henry said. Mary breathed, “Holy cow.”

  “Maybe I can gain back some of my weight so my pants fit again! Thank you so much, Fiona. These are much appreciated.” Henry again closed his eyes in pleasure after taking a bite of brownie. He patted his stomach appreciatively. Fiona noticed that he did not wear a wedding band.

  Fiona quickly turned away. Standing at the sink, she felt a warm sensation of happiness growing in her chest.

  Henry handed a brownie to Ryan, who tasted it hesitantly. He chewed slowly at first, then took another eager bite.

  “By the way,” Henry said from the table, “did either of you see a teddy bear today? A red bear? We can’t find it and Ryan’s been pretty upset at bedtime without it. It’s his special bear.”

  Fiona’s hands froze in the hot water. She looked up at her reflection in the window to see Henry staring at her. Maybe he’d noticed she’d gone still? “Do you have a basement?” she asked, knowing that the bear wasn’t “on the stairs” going to the second floor.

  “We do,” Henry said, gesturing to a door in the corner.

  Fiona turned to Henry. “Did you look down there?”

  “No,” he said, “Ryan never goes down there.” He stood anyway and walked to the basement door, flicking a light switch before disappearing down the creaky stairs. Fiona glanced uneasily at Mary.

  Mary stared at Fiona inquisitively, but Fiona just took more dirty dishes from the table, concentrating on scraping naked chicken bones into the garbage. Seconds later, Henry reappeared at the top of the steps. He was holding a small red teddy bear in one hand. The bear’s fur was worn and matted in spots and his plastic eyes, probably shiny when purchased, were now dull.

  Ryan yelled, “Teddy!” and lifted his hands to take the toy from his father. He brought the bear to his face and kissed it. Mary watched him delightedly.

  Fiona smiled, but Henry’s stern expression made her squirm. “How did you know it was down there?” He shook his head slightly from side to side.

  To Fiona, it almost sounded like an accusation. This was why she ignored the voices. She shouldn’t have said anything about the bear. Henry would have eventually found it on his own. Does he think I found it on one place and moved it to the basement? she wondered.

  “I don’t know.” Fiona dried her hands on a kitchen towel and walked toward the coat rack. She took her and Mary’s coats down, put her own on, and hugged Ryan. Mary did the same. “It was just a hunch,” she added over her shoulder. You’re welcome for finding the bear, she wanted to say sarcastically. Inside, though, she felt miserable. It was fifth grade all over again. Henry was looking at her like she was an odd specimen under glass. The pleasant atmosphere of the dinner hour was gone.

  At the front door, Henry thanked Mary and Fiona again for their help and the meal before he closed the door behind them. Fiona thought that the sound of the lock turning was significant. Click. Goodbye. On the sidewalk, Fiona took a quick peek back at the house. Henry was standing in the window, watching them. He had changed into a flannel shirt and jeans after work and he looked incredibly handsome outlined in lamplight. He didn’t wave and Fiona looked away quickly.

  Fiona and Mary walked for a block in silence, their bodies hunched to stay warm. Fiona wanted to jog but she kept pace with her grandmother’s slow gait. The houses in Henry’s neighborhood were all cheerfully lit and looked homey and inviting. Fiona thought that Fireside had to be the most inviting town she’d even been in. Main Street, however, so cheerful in sunshine, was very dark between the streetlights. Fiona leaned closer to her grandmother. She thought she heard an animal howling in the distance, but it might have been the wind. Or a wolf.

  “How did you know?” Mary finally asked. Fiona, in spite of her thick crocheted hat and Mary’s soft speaking voice, heard her clearly.

  “Carol, I think, told me,” Fiona answered miserably. “Today, while Ryan was napping, I asked Carol if she was there.” Fiona glanced at Mary’s face for a reaction, but her face was calm and composed. “It’s not something I usually do. It was an experiment, to see if I could.”

  “Were you frightened?” Mary asked gently.

  Fiona remembered how peaceful she’d felt under the blanket on Carol’s couch. “No, not while it was happening,” Fiona replied, “but I was when Henry found the bear. And now he thinks I’m weird.” They were passing through a dark stretch between street lamps and Fiona shivered. A shadow from the streetlight seemed to loom out of nowhere.

  If Fiona was hoping her grandmother would dispute this remark, she was disappointed. “Darling girl,” Mary said instead, “you’ll have to learn not to care if people think you’re weird if you’re going to get involved in mediumship. It’s something you accept if you’re in the field.” Her tone was gentle. Fiona didn’t reply, taking in her grandmother’s words. She was lost in thought as she watched her boots kick up snow and slush.

  At the front door to Mary’s Sewing Bee, her grandmother hurriedly pulled herself up the steps and turned her key in the lock. Fiona looked up and down Main Street and saw absolutely no sign of another human being. She thought she heard the howling again in the distance. Fiona knew that sounds traveled long distances in the cold, but still. They both stepped into the warm shop and stamped their feet on the mat.

  “You might even lose people you care about...you know...scare them away,” Mary continued, pulling off her hat and mittens.

  “Like my mother,” Fiona finished for her, pulling off her own hat. The
warmth of the shop felt delicious, like hot food or hot tea.

  “No, like your father.” Mary sighed. “Your mother was never scared. It was her ‘normal’ to see me holding seances and reading palms and cards. It was your father who was scared.” Mary smiled and Fiona guessed she was remembering a scene from Theresa’s childhood. Fiona had never thought of it this way before, but of course it made sense. Theresa wouldn’t be afraid.

  She followed Mary’s slower gait up the stairs to the apartment where they removed their coats, still shivering a little. Mary went to the thermostat on the wall and turned the dial, then began setting up for her client.

  Fiona, fascinated, watched as Mary took four fat white pillar candles, a white lace cloth, and a small crystal ball from a cabinet. The surface of the crystal ball looked purple in the low light. Enchanted, Fiona went to inspect the shiny orb. “Does it work?” she asked excitedly, cradling the cool crystal ball in her hands. She rubbed her thumbs over its surface and gazed into it. She saw a reflection of the room behind her, but it was upside-down.

  “No.” Mary laughed. “Not for me, anyway. But the clients love it.” Fiona placed the crystal ball reverently on its stand. Next came the cards from the cookie tin in the drawer in the kitchen table. “Nicole will be here soon.” Mary lit the candles and switched off the lamp next to the couch. The room, in shadows, was instantly mysterious.

  Mary’s dark eyes seemed to sparkle with the reflection of the candle’s flickering flames. “If you hear any voices, write down what they say.”

  She handed Fiona a small notepad and pen. “After I’m finished, I’ll ask you to read the messages, if there are any, to Nicole.” Fiona felt like a trusted colleague instead of an ingenue granddaughter. Even though she’d felt exhausted walking home from Henry’s, she felt a new burst of energy run through her body. She was extremely excited at the prospect of finally seeing her grandmother in action.