With Me Now Read online

  He laughed, but then noticeably restrained himself. “Was this a recent thing?”

  “No. I was twelve. As if being twelve isn’t awkward enough, throw in falling through a floor in front of all your friends.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve blocked most of it from memory, but I can assure you. I fell flat on my face. The masses howled. I wanted to change schools, but my mother said no.”

  Their pace was perfectly matched. He swayed slightly to the side, his free hand brushing against hers. “You’re something else.”

  “I’m special edition.”

  He led her down Baltimore Street, which seemed to be the main street through town. Large brick buildings displaying a prominent brass plaques reading “Civil War Era” crowded both sides of the road. She counted five ghost tour booths before they’d reached the end of the first block. “Pretty quiet town, huh?”

  “It is now. I was here last year in the summertime and it was chaos. It gets busy during the school year because of the college and the seminary. We’re just in that weird time of year when the students are gone and the tourists haven’t shown up yet.” He pointed farther down the street. “The farther you go this way, the more shops and people you run into. Parking is a nightmare.”

  She glanced in a store front, scanning the display of t-shirts, hats, mugs, and pants stamped with the town name. “It’s a bit commercialized.”

  “Don’t get me started. I minored in Civil War history, so over commercialization and land development gets me worked up.”

  I’d like to see you worked up. She glanced behind her again. The feeling someone was behind her was pressing; she couldn’t shake it.

  This time, Mike noticed. “Why do you keep looking behind you?”

  “I just get this feeling someone’s behind me. Honestly, I’m expecting to turn around and see Brad trying to blend in with a lamppost.” She hesitated. “No offense, but he’s a total creeper.”

  “None taken, because I agree.” Mike turned and looked at the path they’d travelled. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “Neither do I. I’m just weird.”

  “Do you have any siblings who share in this, or did you parents think one of you was enough?”

  “I have two older brothers, Jefferson and Adam.”

  He fell silent for a moment and then stopped walking. “Your parents named all three of you after presidents?”

  “You, sir, are perceptive.”

  “I do my best.” He fell into step beside her again. “That’s actually cool.”

  “Well, thanks. Most of my friends, even at this stage in my academic career, don’t realize we had presidents named Adams and Madison. They think my parents were just weird hippies, which actually, is also kind of true.”

  They stopped at an intersection. A surprising amount of traffic was clogging up the road. Mike pulled out his cell phone and checked the time. “Must be rush hour.”

  Before she had a chance to answer him, a woman circled around them. She was dressed in a long flowered skirt and ill-fitting black tank top, her curly black hair tucked back in a thick French twist. “Excuse me, I apologize but I had to stop you. Do you know he’s with you?”

  Madison exchanged a glance with Mike, but smiled politely. “I do, actually, we’re together.”

  “Not him. The soldier.”

  “Again, she knows.” Mike pressed his hand to her elbow and pushed her forward. “Come on, let’s go this way. We can cross at the next block.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.” The woman fell silent for a moment, but then blurted out, “Your father died unexpectedly, didn’t he?”

  Madison turned on her heel and stared at her. “How did you know that?”

  “Please.” The woman’s eyes were wide, her gaze pleading. “Just come inside, give me five minutes. I promise I won’t keep you.”

  “Maddy—” Mike seemed to catch himself. “I mean, Madison, look, she’s a palm reader. She just wants your money.”

  “Maybe, but she’s right.”

  He studied her closely for several moments, his eyes locked on hers. “I’m coming with you.”

  The woman smiled and hustled back to the store front. She unlocked the door and motioned them inside. “I just locked up for the day. Come in and have a seat.”

  The interior of the store was nearly pitch black, the side windows blocked by thick, burgundy curtains. The woman flipped on a light switch, revealing a small but comfortable waiting room with a plush black leather couch and arm chair, separated by a low coffee table. A long rectangular fish tank took up the entire far wall. It didn’t look like what she imagined a palm reader’s office to look like, but was somewhat reminiscent of a dentist office.

  “I usually do my readings in the back room, but since the shop is closed, here is fine.” She gestured for them to sit on the couch. “I apologize, my name is Lenore. I’m a clairvoyant, not a palm reader.”

  Mike didn’t look impressed. He took a bite of the ice cream cone. “Mike.”

  Madison reached out to shake the woman’s hand. “I’m Madison.”

  The woman took her hand and then stopped, clasping her other hand on top. “You’re a sensitive.”

  “Excuse me?” Madison tried to pull her hand away, but the woman’s grip was firm. “A sensitive?”

  Mike stepped in. “Hey, let’s take it easy. Let her go.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Sit. A sensitive can hear the dead. Can speak to them.” Lenore sank into the arm chair and studied her. “You were touched by death as a child.”

  Madison sat down on the couch, perching on the edge and pressing her hands into the dry leather to steady herself. She felt like she was in better position to jump up and run from the building. “Yes.”

  “You were nine.”

  Madison swallowed hard, but nodded.

  “I feel…” Lenore closed her eyes. “I feel like you got there too late.”

  “My father was teaching in Boston and had a massive heart attack. We got there in time for my mother to sign the consent to pull the plug.” Madison had long come to terms with her father’s death, but still, the words tasted bitter. “But he wasn’t a soldier; he actually was a protester during Vietnam.”

  “He’s not the soldier who’s with you.” Lenore leaned forward, her brow furrowing as she squeezed her eyes shut. “You were at the Spangler Farm today.”

  Mike straightened a bit in his seat, but remained silent.

  Madison answered. “Yes.”

  “Both of you.”

  “Yes. But how…”

  “He saw you there. He says you saw him, too.”

  “I…” She didn’t want to justify it with a response, didn’t want Mike to hear what she knew was going to sound completely ridiculous. “I don’t know.”

  “He says you can’t hear him.”

  “He would be right.”

  Lenore shook her head and opened her eyes. “I can’t quite…I can’t quite make out what he’s trying to say. He says the landscape is different now, but he remembers. He says you need to stay away.”

  “From what?”

  “Him.”

  Madison looked at Mike. “Him?”

  “Not Mike…Caldwell. Someone else.” Lenore slowly shook her head. “I can’t hear him anymore, I’m sorry. But he was very adamant. You need to stay away.”

  “How did you know my name?” Mike leaned forward, the tone of his voice markedly louder. Startled.

  Lenore leveled her gaze at him. “The dead have a lot to say about you, Mr. Caldwell.”

  His eyes narrowed, and the muscles in his jaw twitched as he set his mouth in a firm line. He stood up and reached his hand down to Madison. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I’m sorry.” She followed him to the door, but stopped short of walking outside. “I think you have me mistaken for someone else. You’re right; I lost my dad a long time ago. But I can’t hear the dead. Whoever I saw at the farm today was a trespasser or something, not a ghost.”


  “He’ll try again. All you need to do is listen.” Lenore’s face clouded with worry, her eyes pleading. “But you need to stay away from the Spangler Farm. Something isn’t right. I don’t know what it is, but you—both of you—are in danger.”

  “We’ve wasted enough of your time.” Mike gently placed his hand on the small of Madison’s back and pushed her forward. “Thank you though.”

  As he guided her down the sidewalk, his hand still resting on her waist, she heard the woman call to them. “Cam says it wasn’t your fault.”

  Mike stopped in his tracks. Madison felt him stiffen next to her and he turned back, his voice low and uncomfortably calm. “Fuck you, lady.”

  He nudged her forward and across the street, dropping his hand from her waist once they were on the other sidewalk. She couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed.

  They walked in silence for several minutes. Madison took a bite of her ice cream, almost afraid to talk to him. She couldn’t tell if he was mad, hurt, or frustrated. He simply stared straight ahead, one had shoved in his pocked and the other cupping the ice cream cone. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she nervously cleared her throat. “Well, that was awkward.”

  “Yeah, I’d say so.” He paused. “So...did you see someone on the farm today? Someone who shouldn’t have been there?”

  She nibbled on the cone. “I don’t know what I saw.”

  “Madison. You can tell me.”

  “After what just happened in there?” She motioned behind her. “It’s going to sound even crazier than it sounds on its own.”

  “Try me.”

  “I just…” She groaned. “I thought I saw someone watching me. He was standing in the lower level of the barn and then, later, I saw him in the woods. It was probably just my imagination. I mean, if someone was there, you’d have seen him.”

  “Did you mention it to anyone?”

  “Liam, ah, sort of. Look, if someone was there, it was probably just a tourist or a reenactor or something. It wasn’t a ghost.” She glanced at him. “I thought you said you didn’t believe in palm readers.”

  “I told you she was just after your money.” He reached out and touched her arm. “If you see him again, tell me.”

  “It’s not going to happen again.”

  “Well, on the off chance it does, just give me a head’s up. I want to know.”

  She suddenly felt relieved, as if he’d lifted a burden she didn’t realize she was carrying. “You don’t seem like the type who’d believe in ghosts.”

  He kicked at a stone in the middle of the sidewalk. He missed and tried again, the toe of his shoe impacting with the rock. It skittered off the sidewalk and into the street. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

  “That’s okay, too.”

  “You’re taking this all in stride. Doesn’t that,” — he motioned behind him, in the general area of the shop — “bother you?”

  “Seeing someone casually hanging out at the Spangler barn watching me stand around being awkward bothers me. Some psychic knowing my dad died when I was a kid is weird, but I guess not entirely out of the ordinary, considering a psychic’s job description.”

  “I was hanging out at the Spangler barn watching you, too.” He paused and then groaned. “And when I say it out loud, it sounds far creepier than it did in my head.”

  “The difference is I liked you watching me.”

  She glanced at him; the corners of his lips twitched up into a poorly concealed smile. He remained silent.

  “Well anyway…” She shrugged, “In my experience—and I’m quantifying my experience as time served with a prick step-father—most people are driven by the need to get what they want. They go to any length to get it. I, for example, have the need to be the best and am a perpetual overachiever. If she wanted to creep me out and add weirdness to an already bizarre day, then she got what she wanted. If her goal was to get paid or convince me of some kind of inherent supernatural powers, then no, she failed miserably. I’m not scared of the Spangler Farm. What I’m scared of is not getting into grad school and that drives me to keep going. Assuming I can actually find my way back to the Spangler Farm tomorrow, I’ll be there, ghosts or not.”

  “If you need a ride tomorrow, I’ll pick you up.” He sounded shy, which didn’t seem to fit his personality.

  “I have my first alcohol rehab session tomorrow night. I need to leave with enough time to clean up and maybe eat. Maybe. The last thing I want is to look like I’ve been rolling around in the dirt all day.” She hesitated. “Otherwise, I’d take you up on it.”

  “Take me up on it anyway.”

  They’d already made it back to the hotel; the return trip seemed markedly shorter than the earlier walk down Baltimore Street. She wasn’t ready for him to leave. “Okay, but only if you’re sure it isn’t any trouble.”

  “It’s not.” He smiled sheepishly. “You’re no trouble, trust me.”

  “I’m lots of trouble. You just don’t know me well enough yet.”

  “Hopefully I will soon.”

  She pursed her lips together in a coy smile. “Hopefully you will.”

  Chapter Nine

  The morning dawned cold and wet. A misty haze of fog settled over the fields in the distance, the muted sun barely visible through thick clots of clouds. She felt cold and uncomfortable already. But, as long as the rain held off, the dig should still be a go. Cianna would probably stay in the car, but the rest of them could get some time in the pits.

  And maybe Mike would offer to keep her warm.

  She felt herself taking extra time getting ready, deliberating between a gray shirt over a white tank top or a brown shirt over a white tank top. She spent far too much time applying more eyeliner than she should have pending a day out in the rain. Dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, a subtle spritz of perfume down the front of her shirt, contacts in the correct eyes— she was ready to go.

  Madison checked the face of her smart phone. Ready to go with forty-five minutes to spare. Awesome.

  She shrugged a pink hoodie over her shoulders and snagged her room key from on top of the television. The continental breakfast was in a small house toward the back of the hotel complex. Since dinner had consisted of vending machine chips and a protein bar, she was ready for something more substantial. Something more free.

  The building was cozy enough, with two rooms jammed full of tables and chairs and a larger room housing the breakfast food. She selected an English muffin from the bread box and, after splitting it in half, slid into the toaster. There wasn’t much of a selection: egg patties, sausage patties, something gelatinous that might have been gravy, cake donuts, and a sampling of flavored yogurts. It was better than nothing—and she was starving.

  Once the English muffin was ready, she assembled an egg and sausage sandwich and grabbed a container of strawberry yogurt. At the last second, she snagged two cake donuts; there was no telling how long she’d have to wait for lunch.

  After shoving a spoon and napkins into her hoodie pocket, she filled a cup with cranberry juice and headed back to her hotel room. As much fun as it sounded to sit in the breakfast house and eat alone, she preferred to be where Mike could find her. After all, he could show up early. She should be there, in her room waiting.

  In her room.

  Madison, seriously. She chided herself. You’re two steps away from pouncing on him. Down. Down, girl.

  By the time she’d made it back to her room, her mother had texted her not once, but twice.

  Good morning! Happy day two of your adventure! And the second— Looks like rain. Dig still on?

  Up early for more quizzing. She took a bite of sandwich as she responded.

  Thanks. Should be on unless we get too much rain, haven’t heard it’s cancelled. I’m sure I’d be the last to know.

  Her mother texted back almost immediately.

  Good. Do you start your classes tonight?

  Madison sighed. Here we go. She had a fee
ling her mother had been coached by Tricky Dick to ask such a question.

  Yes.

  Make sure you take notes.

  Thanks, Mom. I will.

  She didn’t have an opportunity to discuss things with her mother before she left. Her mother had at some point during Madison’s teenage years decided she wasn’t going to interfere with the conflicts between her and her step-father. It was easier to pretend everything was fine. Even so, Madison was fairly sure she knew what her mother would say: I’m disappointed in the drinking, Mads, but I’m so proud you’re going on a dig. You know we’re proud of you—we’re both so proud of you.

  Sometimes she envied her brothers for going to school as far away as possible.

  She finished her breakfast and washed her hands, then took the opportunity to apply more eyeliner and mascara. As she critically judged her appearance in the mirror—pale skin, blue eyes so wide she perpetually looked surprised—she heard a knock on the room door.

  Mike.

  She sprinted across the room, pausing long enough to smooth down her hair and wipe her hand across her face to ensure no errant muffin crumbs were left behind. She forced herself to open the door with restraint.

  His face broke into an immediate smile. “Hey, pretty lady.”

  “Hey, soldier boy.” Her heart felt like it skipped a beat. The intensity of his eyes was enough to make her blush. “Let me just get my bag and I’m good to go. Not that I used it yesterday, but you know. Just in case.”

  “And your room key.”

  “And my room key.” She unzipped the front pouch of the backpack and slid the key inside. “Forgetting my room key is becoming an unfortunate habit.”

  “I’m surprised Brad put you up in a hotel.” He waited for her to close the door and then fell into step beside her, comfortably close as they headed toward the parking lot. “The rest of us are in park housing. And when I say the rest of us, what I mean by that is me and Liam. Cianna’s college sorority sister has a condo outside of town so, of course, she’s staying in the lap of luxury.”

  “Forgot the condo, you’re in park housing?”