“No, but saying I stepped on a kitten doesn’t improve the story, does it?”
“Let’s take a look at that ankle,” I said. I pushed her corduroy pant leg up a bit and removed her shoe and sock. “It’s swelling up. How does it feel when you move it?”
She grimaced as she moved the foot back and forth. “Not great—but it’s probably just sprained.”
“That may be true, but I think it’s a good idea to get an X-ray. And maybe have someone take a look at your back as well,” I said.
“One thing at a time,” she said. “Let me sit up first, and see how that goes.”
It took us an hour to convince Peggy to go to the ER, where several additional hours were spent in waiting rooms and examination rooms and radiology suites until the verdict was delivered that she’d sprained both her ankle and her back. Armed with a prescription for a muscle relaxant and the determination to complete the day on a high note, Peggy made us drive to downtown Boston where we looked at festive lights and found a decent parking spot for an outrageously expensive meal.
Michael drank too much, Peggy took her meds and became groggy, and I drove the pair of them back to the house where I had to make two separate trips to escort the invalids to their beds. When Michael came in, he paused at his mother’s bedroom door.
“Mom, tell me this, where in the world did you get all those fancy clothes anyway?” he asked.
“You know, it may come as a surprise to you,” she said. “But I had a life before you were born that had nothing to do with you or your father. And that was my life, and it’s still none of your business. Now, go to bed, Michael.”
Louie climbed into bed with me and purred softly against my chest. “I know, you’re sorry,” I said. “And I never checked to see if you got hurt, did I?” I felt the little kitten body from head to toe, his little teeth biting my hands as I completed my search. “I think you’re okay,” I said. “But you have to learn to stay out of the way, or you could really get hurt—or cause someone else to get hurt badly. You know?”
I heard a soft tapping on my door. “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Michael said. “Okay if I come in for a minute?”
“Sure,” I said.
He lay on the covers next to me, resting his head on one arm. “Were you on the phone or something? I heard you talking,” he said. “Or are you talking to yourself? That happens a lot in this house.”
I lifted the blanket to reveal Louie’s presence. “He’s not a very good conversationalist. I was mostly giving him a lecture about staying out of people’s way. I’m not sure it made much of an impression,” I said.
“Like my mother’s foot on his tail,” he said.
I nodded. “He’s lucky that he didn’t get hurt, and she’s lucky that nothing was broken. Although she’s going to be very sore tomorrow, I bet.”
“I bet you she doesn’t admit to that,” he said. “You know, she is acting really weird about those clothes. Where do you think they come from?”
“Hmm, if I had to guess, I’d say that she probably did some modeling back before you were born, either that or she attended a lot of society events. Where did she go to college? Is she from a wealthy family, one of those that did the social register stuff? Because that’s the kind of clothes these are. They aren’t the wardrobe of a grammar school teacher.”
“I had the feeling… Oh well. I guess we’ll see what happens tomorrow, right?”
“We’re definitely not bringing that desk down that ladder,” I said. “She’s going to have to pay someone to do that. Are you going to get it delivered to your apartment in New York? It’s a fabulous piece, along with those wooden file cabinets.”
He yawned. “Yes, it was my father’s so she doesn’t want it. I’ve been talking about it for years, and now’s the time. I have to take it,” he said. He yawned again. “I’d better go, or I’ll fall asleep right here. And that would not do! Good night, Louie. Good night, Cassie. Sleep tight!”
I leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Good night, Michael. See you in the morning.”
I watched Michael sleep for a while, and then got up and went down the hall to get some water. I passed the trunk, pulled to the side of the hall at the top of the stairs. I wonder, I said to myself.
I padded down the stairs and returned with a glass of water, and looked at the trunk again. I went over and sat on it. “What secrets are you keeping?” I thought. There’s more inside here than just clothes—and even those are layered in mystery. I closed my eyes and asked my mind to open to the messages contained within the heavy wooden container.
Suddenly I felt a chill, and when I opened my eyes I saw the figure of a woman leaning against the wall. “Peggy?” I asked. “Is that you? Are you all right?”
The figure shimmied a bit and turned to face me so that I realized it was not Peggy, but a much younger woman, and it was not real. “I must be dreaming,” I said. “Are you here to give me a message?”
She reached her hands out to me. Cradled within them was a letter. I stood up and walked closer, and as I did, she became more transparent but also luminous and lovely. Her long brown hair flowed around her head as if it was being moved by a gentle breeze, and her brown eyes sparked in the same way that Michael’s did when he was laughing. That must be it, I thought. “Are you Kristen?” I asked as I took the last step to reach her hand.
When I said the name, she disappeared. I realized that it was suddenly very dark in the hallway. Near the spot where she’d been standing, I saw something. An envelope was wedged between the wall and the baseboard, and I reached down and picked it up.
I recognized the stationery from somewhere. I held it up to the dim light coming from the window, rubbed the paper between my fingers. Oh, yes, this matched the packet of the letters I’d discovered in the roll-top desk and hidden in the bag under the bed. Had I dropped this letter earlier when I was carrying the bag down the stairs? And if so, why hadn’t I seen it during the many trips back and forth since then?
“Was that you, Kristen?” I asked softly. “Are you still living in this house, waiting for Michael to come and get you?” I smiled, feeling a wash of peacefulness come over me that was instantly replaced with that chill, and I got nervous again. Snap out of it, Cassie, I thought. You don’t dabble with the spirits, remember? I took the letter and returned to the bedroom where I tucked it into my suitcase. Michael was snoring heartily and I lay next to him in the sincere hope of catching the same path to sleep.
Chapter 8
The three of us would have qualified for a pain medication commercial the next morning. We were all feeling the strain of the prior afternoon’s exertions, and none of us felt like doing anything more than reading and drinking coffee all morning. The weather did not encourage any other options, as it was cold and threatening with gray skies looming and a brisk wind bringing frigid temperatures from the north.
“I’m taking this coffee and going back to my warm bed,” Peggy announced. “You two can figure out what to do with yourselves, I’m sure.”
She pointed out that there was an abundance of food in the fridge, more than enough pastries, and the telephone for any other emergencies.
“I think we can manage,” I said. “Are you sure you feel all right today? Can we do anything for you? How about some nice chicken soup for lunch?”
She made a face. “No, please do not wait on me. I hate being treated like I’m sick.”
“That’s true,” Michael said. “She’s the worst patient ever.”
“If I need anything—and that’s a very big if—I will text you