The Widow's Walk (3 page)

Chapter 4

Liz stowed Eddie in the crib while she showered and dressed. The kids in Brewster were likely a shade better behaved than the ones she’d taught in Roxbury. Still, they’d take advantage of a newcomer. She settled on a black sweater and pants, black flats, and twisted her hair up into a knot at the back of her head to complete the authoritative, in charge look.

Eddie looked at his mommy and scrunched his face up, puzzled. He knew something was up and pounded a drumbeat of warning on her arm and face as she carried him downstairs.

Mae had the kettle boiling and a teabag already in Liz’s favorite cup, the one with a picture of Paine’s Creek Beach on it.

“Ya look real nice, Lizzy. The principal’s goin’ to be impressed.”

Liz buckled Eddie into the highchair and gave him half a banana. He gnawed on it like an old man with a cigar.

“He’s desperate, Mae. The history teacher is out for the next week.” Liz tried to be excited, but she’d miss the unstructured time off to do what she wanted around the house and with Eddie. This was all about the paycheck.

“Here’s your tea. Packed you a yogurt and granola for breakfast.” Mae brought her the cup and a paper bag.

Liz dipped and wrapped the string around the sodden teabag to wring it out. She tried to remember the curriculum for American History and what she’d normally taught in February.

“Mike was coughin’ a lot this mornin’.” Mae joined her at the table. “Wouldn’t take nothin’ but some honey in his tea. Maybe ya could stop on the way home for some lozenges.”

“Sure.” Liz didn’t recall him being sick last night, and they’d been layered together like onion skin.

“He said he was comin’ down with a cold. Sneezin’, too.”

“Well, I better get going.” She picked up her purse. Eddie, already suspicious, started to howl. Guilt tugged at her. She wanted to comfort her son. But she also needed to make some money and get him to be less clingy.

“Just go.” Mae picked him up. “Want to see the birdies? Let’s go see them eat the seeds Kevin put out.” She pointed out the kitchen window to a birdfeeder where a flock of sparrows had alighted and tussled for their turn. Momentarily absorbed, Eddie stopped crying.

Liz sneaked to the hall closet. It had been awhile since she’d worn her dressy coat, and it felt strangely tight and confining. Her feet already hurt. Nothing seemed right anymore–not her good clothes, or the job she’d had for twenty years, her new marriage, her life.

Her eyes took in everything that needed her attention: piles of mail on the desk, shoes scattered in the hall, mud on the floors, windows spattered with salt spray and grime.

Liz forced herself out the front door and into the car. By now, Mike and Kevin were out bending over the gunwales, plunging their hands into the icy water, their Wellingtons soaked inside as they pulled lobster traps into the boat and emptied them, after banding snapping claws. The poor creatures, the poor men–mutually destroying each other. For what?

A steady source of income, not a dribble of hotel receipts or the trickle of her late husband’s partnership money her lawyer had been able to extract would help things run smoother. Then Mike could give it up, and Kevin could get back to things around the house. If she wasn’t so distracted, she’d be able to control Elisabeth better.

Liz arrived at Cape Cod Tech twenty minutes early and sat outside watching the kids and teachers file in. An outsider, a stranger, a strange woman with a strange story.
Once I get in the classroom, it will all come back to me.
She put her head in her hands
. If I can just figure out who I really am.

Liz’s head pounded. How had she done this all day, every day? When Jay was small she’d trucked him to daycare before work, then came home, and cooked dinner, and took care of the house. She’d left Eddie in his pajamas, and supper would be ready when she got home. Yet, the change in routine had her more exhausted than she’d been in a long time.

She took a different route home to stop at the drugstore for cough medicine. She parked in front of
Moonstone Candles and Crystals
in downtown Harwich, its homeopathic remedies listed right next to “Psychic and Tarot Readings,” on the purple awning. Before the car door closed, Sandra Kensington appeared behind Liz as if she’d popped out of thin air. No footfalls. No telltale whiff of perfume. No warning. No wand.

She was dressed in jeans, an oversized sweater with horizontal stripes of orange, purple, green, yellow and red, with black boots. Long blonde hippie hair, streaked with gray, framed typical Sandra Kensington earrings, chandelier style, and icons of some sort, which matched the necklace around her neck. Not a pentacle; that would be too obvious. Some other runic squiggle of significance, but Liz had no idea of what. “Liz, how are you? It’s been such a long time.”

Her heart raced.
Sandra wrote that book years ago. There were lot of other ghost stories in there besides Elisabeth and Edward Barrett’s. What if she asked any questions about the any goings on at the Barrett Inn?
I’m sorry, Sandra, but I’ve got to get some things at the drugstore and get home.”

Sandra took Liz’s arm and guided her inside. “I’ve got everything you need in here.”

A tiny bell tinkled. The conglomeration of candle scents, an overpowering mixture of floral and musky essences, made Liz’s eyes water. Harps and synthesized music twanged. A table for two sat in the corner with a deck of cards fanned out across a lace tablecloth. Crystals of all colors, sizes, and shapes glimmered in the sunlit bay window looking out over the main street of the quaint town.

“How can I help you?”

Gooseflesh prickled her arms. Best to buy something and get out. “My husband has a terrible cold.” Liz perused the racks of blue homeopathic remedy tubes for a couple of likely ones for coughs and colds.

“Liz, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I know Mike very well. His first wife, Mary, used to come here all the time for some natural remedies. Not much works with cancer, though. Sorry to hear he’s not feeling well.” Sandra gazed at Liz like she was looking through her, sensing the jumble of emotion inside.

What nerve to force her to revisit all that misery. Liz resisted the urge to walk out. “I’ll take these two.” She put the medication on the counter.

Sandra slipped on her glasses and studied the vials. “
Allium cepa
is very good for runny noses, colds, wet congestion. You can even give it to that adorable little one of yours. Dissolve five pellets in water and give the baby one teaspoon at a time until he feels better. Let Mike put five under his tongue and dissolve. Repeat until he starts to improve. These
Drosera rotundifolia
are good for a dry cough, like croup. Any fever?”

“No, and the baby isn’t sick. Not yet, anyway. But good to know.” Of course she’d bring up the baby. Liz forced herself to think about anything except Elisabeth, Jared, and Edward–and Eddie’s paternity. Lobsters. Lobsters snapping their claws. That would put Sandra off.

Sandra took a little blue box off the shelf. “This is a good kit to have on hand for children. Perfectly safe–unlike the stuff in the corner drugstore. All the most useful remedies.
Chamomilla
for teething.
Pulsatilla
for irritability, stuffy noses.
Cocculus indicus
for nausea and vomiting

“
Cocculus
. Yes, I used to give that to my older son. He got motion sickness.” Good. Get the conversation going down another sideline.

“Ah, don’t discount the
Bach’s Flower Essences
. For adults I recommend a personal concoction. Wouldn’t give them to kids since they are all preserved in alcohol.” Sandra rustled in a drawer behind the counter. “Where is that list?”

Oh great. She’s going to brew a potion.

Sandra handed Liz a brochure. “Each individual should use the chart to choose the proper essences for themselves. Mix as many as needed to control the symptoms you’re having with a clear liqueur like peach brandy.
Rescue Remedy
is ready made for severe stress, serious illness, surgery.” 

A hair of the dog, the eye of a newt. And how did she know about severe stress? Time to get the hell out of here.
“I’ll take the kid’s kit and the two cold remedies.”

Sandra smiled. “Cash or charge?”

“Cash.” Liz tried not to use credit cards these days.

“$32.00, no tax.” Sandra’s eyebrows rose. She winked.

Liz counted out the exact amount, took the small brown paper bag, and turned to flee.

“Give Mike my best regards. Have him come in to see me about his own personal mixture.”

Elisabeth compelled Liz to study Sandra’s face a bit longer than was comfortable. The silence stretched into a very pregnant pause. Sandra, nonplussed, almost as if she’d divined Elisabeth deep inside, waited patiently.

Liz struggled to find her own words, to exit. “Thanks.”
She knows. I can tell by the way she looks at me, she knows.

Chapter 5

Liz limped into the house. A blister on her right little toe, and one on her left heel, seared with seach step. Her feet screamed in relief as she slipped off her shoes and into fluffy slippers.

Mae had arranged shoes and boots neatly on a plastic mud mat. The floor was mopped and shining. The windows were still dirty, but considering the fact that Eddie had kept her busy all day, it was a wonder she’d gotten even those tasks done. The aroma of something delicious, stew perhaps, reminded Liz how hungry she was.

Elisabeth settled, happy to be back in her home.

Liz peered into the parlor. Mike dozed with his feet up on the coffee table in front of a roaring fire. She tiptoed into the kitchen and peeked under the pot lid. Yep, beef stew. After a quick stir, she turned the down the burner and went up to change.  Mae was rocking Eddie in the chair. The second he saw his mother, the baby tossed the bottle aside, whimpered, and extended his arms.

“Ya big faker. He was fine all day, Lizzy. Really.” Mae stood and handed him over.

The baby nestled against Liz and fingered the buttons on her blouse.

“Sit here and feed him. I took him up so he wouldn’t disturb Mike. Haven’t seen Kevin for two hours–probably napping, too.” Mae scurried away, likely happy to be free of childcare.

Eddie settled down to nurse. An oxytocin calm surged through her. The hormone was as potent as a
Valium
, and the baby snuggled in her arms a hell of a lot cuter than anyone she’d seen all day. Liz stroked his black curls.

Elisabeth stirred.
The
baby looks like his father, but Edward has never seen him
.

Edward should be content. He engineered this whole situation
, Liz reminded her.

Elisabeth prodded.
Take Eddie up to the widow’s walk to visit his father
.

No, it’s too cold, too dangerous.

Eddie pulled away. Was he aware of the ghost or did he just miss Kevin and Mae’s banter and Mike’s roughhousing?

Liz carried him downstairs and put him on Mike’s lap. The baby crept up and planted a wet kiss on his father’s cheek. “Da.”

Mike smiled before he opened his eyes. “Who dat?”

“Da.” Eddie giggled.

Elisabeth reacted.
He’ll never know his real father.

Mike tickled him, and the baby laughed even harder.

Liz asserted control.
Mike is Eddie’s father
. She nestled next to him. “Why do they always say daddy first?”

“To make up for the fact they regard their mothers as goddesses.” He stretched and put his free arm around her.

“How was your first day?” He started to cough before Liz could answer.

She jumped up. “I got you some medicine.”

Mike got to his feet, clearing his throat forcefully to stop hacking. “This came on so suddenly. I was fine last night.”

“You sure were.” Liz grinned at him and winked.

“Good because the next couple of nights I need to get some sleep to beat this.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Mae called.

Mike led the way into the kitchen.

Fragrant steam rose up from a big cast iron pot on the table. Mae plunked a bowl of fluffy white dumplings down and sank into her chair.

Kevin rubbed his hands together and started dishing out portions. “Hand me your plate, Mike. Liz, come, sit.”

Mike cleared his throat. “We’re all waiting to hear about your first day.”

She slid into a chair. “It was strange to be dressed up, back in the classroom. Strange to be on a strict schedule, bells ringing, wondering what period it was, trying to find my way around the building. The kids were, well, kids. Everyone was nice. I’m on a call list for all the schools on the Cape.”

Mike cut carrots and meat into small pieces and put them on Eddie’s tray. The baby put a morsel in his mouth and smiled his approval.

“Ahhh!” Four adults squealed in unison like a bunch of blithering idiots.

Elisabeth fussed
. Edward should share in the joy his son brings to everyone.

Liz fidgeted in her seat.
No, I can’t go up there now.

“I know Mike isn’t feelin’ too good, but you’ve barely touched your plate, Lizzy.” Mae pouted.

“I’m tired.” She forced herself to finish the bowl.

“Can’t taste too good with this cold.” Mike got up and went into the mudroom to blow his nose. He had another coughing fit while he was out there.

“I got you some homeopathic medication.” Liz hadn’t wanted to bring up Sandra Kensington, but he was suffering.

“Homo what?” Kevin frowned.

“Homeopathic, natural remedies.” Mike explained. “Mary used to take them all the time. Said it helped her feel better, have more energy.” A sickly gray pall spread over his face as he talked about his first wife.

Liz tried to shift the conversation to neutral. “Sandra from
Moonstone Crystals and Candles
said to say hi. But you can’t take any of these until a half hour after you eat so finish up.”

“Is that the crazy lady who brought the big basket to the Christmas party?” Mae knitted her lips, and they curled at the left side into her skeptical scowl.

“The very same.” Mike said. “She’s batty, but very nice. Even made house calls when Mary was too sick to go out.”

Mae pffted. “Gotta get ya get some good old-fashioned
Fisherman’s Friend
cough drops. They’ll do the trick.”

Liz’s stomach flip-flopped. Elisabeth agitated.
Go put on the dress. Go to Edward
.

No
. Liz held her breath, held her in check.

“Are you okay?” Mike put his hand on Liz’s arm.

“Yes, I . . . was . . . thinking about Gerry. When you started talking about Mary . . . Never mind, it’s been a long day.” Omitting key facts wasn’t lying.

“Well, the two of ya look exhausted. Leave Kevin and me to clean up and lock up. The two of ya give Eddie a bath, put him to bed, and get some sleep.” Mae began to clear the table. “I’ll bring some tea up. With honey and lemon. Soothes the cough. Soothes everything.”

Elisabeth reacted. Liz’s stomach jumped. Likely a ritual oft repeated when she was alive and her maid brought tea to her mistress’ room.

Mae paused–an uncharacteristic moment of silence and inactivity–as if she sensed something, too. “Don’t just sit there, times a wastin’.” She wiped Eddie’s hands and face and took him out of the chair. “You, young man, are a mess.”

He gurgled with delight at Mae’s funny face and twisted his body to reach for his father.

Mike carried him out of the room. “Kid’s smart. He knows it’s bath time and Daddy’s on duty.”

Liz followed him upstairs. “How about I take him in the tub with me? Save time, save water. Then you can try putting him to bed.”

Mike frowned. “Without nursing?”

“He had his fill when I got home.” Liz filled the tub and stripped off her clothes.

The warm water eased her prickly skin and even soothed the quaver in her gut. The baby splashed while Liz washed and rinsed his hair.

“Da.” Eddie reached up his arms when Mike came in.

Mike’s face softened into a contented grin. “Come on, slugger.” He wrapped Eddie in a towel.

Was Jared’s ghost needling or was Mike too strong, his defenses too well developed to notice or give in to it? Was she the only one with an uninvited guest swirling around just waiting for an opportunity to make itself known?

Liz soaked away the angst. The baby soap soothed her skin; the soft powder scent exerted its own calming aromatherapy.

Eddie was asleep in his crib by the time she got out. Mae had brought up a tray of tea and cookies, plus a bottle of cough and cold elixir.

“The stew filled the little guy up.” Mike broke up the smoldering log in the fireplace. “He went right to sleep.”

Liz slipped on a flannel nightgown. She needed comfort tonight, and Mike was in no mood, no condition.

She handed him the bag. “Five pellets of
Allium cepia
under the tongue. Repeat if needed. Sandra’s orders.”

Mike dumped the bag of homeopathic remedies out on the settee and picked out the tube of medication. He knew exactly how to screw the top so the pellets dropped. He popped them into his mouth.

“What’s this?” He looked at the
Bach’s
brochure.

“You pick the essences that match your symptoms, and I brew you a personalized potion.”

Mike finally balked. “None of that.”

Liz poured tea for herself and stirred in milk and sugar. “Mike, I think Sandra knows.”

“About what? Money troubles?” He sat next to her.

“No. About the ghosts.” She swiveled to face him, tucking her legs under her.

Mike shook his head. “How could she?”

Liz had hidden the book to conceal the reality of how they all died. The truth was going to come out. “Sandra wrote a book about ghosts on Cape Cod. She stares at me like she knows Elisabeth is rummaging around this house.”

“So what? She’s odd, and no one would believe it.”

He drained his cup. “Ahhh, boy that’s good.”

Liz sipped. “So you don’t think I should worry about Sandra?’ What if Jay or Bill Jeffers got wind of potions and paranormal activities?”

“I’ll never forget how she sat with Mary, held her hand, brought her things–and encouraged her to fight, to keep hoping . . .” Mike’s voice broke. “And she took care of me, too. Never mentioned it to anyone–my buddies would have raked me out of the mud like a basket of clams if they knew. She wouldn’t hurt a bug.”

He stared at the
Bach’s
brochure, like reading an account of times long past. “After Mary died, she’d stop by to see how my daughter and I were doing. Brought this here
Rescue Remedy
. I was desperate and gave some to Allison who was so depressed about losing her mother I was afraid she was gong to hurt herself. Then took it myself rather than get drunk every night. Not sure it worked, but it surely didn’t hurt.”

So, Mike and Sandra had a long history. Maybe too long. “So why don’t you choose your essences and I’ll mix them?

“Because enough is enough. That’s all behind me now. Going to bed?” He stretched back, wiggled his arms, and rotated his neck.

Liz yawned. “Yes.”

Elisabeth’s anger bubbled like an underground well.

She would not go up there tonight when Mike needed her attention. Liz slid behind him to massage his shoulders.

“Oh, does that feel good.” He squirmed. “Yeah, right there. Don’t move.”

“Sounds obscene.” She kissed the back of his neck.

“Not meant to be. Maybe I’m getting old, but I need a night or two to rest in between sessions.” His tone was apologetic, but he averted his eyes.

Liz massaged more deeply. All this talk of dead spouses wasn’t conducive to romance.

“That’s good. Thanks, sweetie.” Mike stood up and kissed her cheek, then scattered the ashes in the fireplace. He closed the screen doors with a thud and lumbered toward the bed.

Liz checked Eddie and by the time she came out of his closet alcove, Mike was burrowed under the covers, asleep.

She could go up now. No one would know. Elisabeth didn’t mind the cold wind, the numb fingers and toes. Her heart didn’t race worrying that someone would see her, or get splinters from grasping the well-worn railing for support, comfort. All she wanted was a chance to see Edward again. The same thing she’d wanted since his ship disappeared without a trace. One visit hadn’t been enough, especially since his parting gift was lying in a crib in the same room.

No, I’m in charge.
Liz slipped under the covers and nestled next to Mike, her belly to his back, her chin tucked against his shoulder.

Elisabeth resisted.

Liz insisted.
Enough. You could have had a life with Jared but made a foolish mistake. I will not repeat that.

Liz pressed closer to Mike until the full length of her body conformed to his, melted into each curve: his neck, his back, his bum. She slid one leg between his and traced her toes down over the muscles in his calf, until her foot came to rest on his, like he was holding her up, holding her in place.

Her arm draped over his back, her fingers sank into the fuzz on his chest. Memories of the last two nights, and the lovemaking that had proceeded the snuggling affirmed her control, kept her in the present. Chastened, but not yet sated, Elisabeth’s niggling stopped–at least for the time being.

Mike threw off the covers. The smell of stale flowers brought bile to the back of his throat. He didn’t have to even feel the bed; Liz wouldn’t be there. And Elisabeth would be standing in front of the bay window, her blank eyes weeping ghostly tears, her face contorted in eternal sadness, grief.

He sat up and sure enough, there she stood in that infernal dress, oblivious to him, to anything but her own personal misery. No way he could chalk this up to anything else.

Go to her, shake her, ask for an explanation of what she did!
Jared exhorted.

Maybe if he did it, they’d both leave. Mike padded over to the lady in the green dress. “Elisabeth.”

She didn’t respond. Her frosty aura, more dense than anything he’d ever experienced, stagnant, moldy like the inside of a cave, filled his mouth. Gray, unblinking, vacant eyes displayed a swirling mist of what Purgatory must look like, feel like. Endless fog, endless longing, eternal hope. 

Mike reached for her but his hands slipped right through the apparition.

Elizabeth extended her arms. There was no mistaking the silent movement of her lips. “I’m sorry.”

Jared bucked like an angry stallion, and Mike almost puked all over the bedroom.
Don’t let her go.
Jared’s voice boomed in Mike’s ears.

Like a puppet, Mike’s arms jerked forward involuntarily and grasped Elisabeth. She broke apart and faded into a mist.

The room spun. A hot flash swept over him. He staggered toward the bathroom, gagging, coughing. He unloaded into the toilet and hung on like a drunk worshiping the porcelain goddess.