Spirit Story - Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Mara made the appointment herself. This seemed important. Claire had not tricked her into it, bribed her with coffee, misrepresented the destination, or described it as an adventure. At 10:14 on Thursday morning, Mara called Evelyn’s shop and said, “I’d like to schedule another reading.”
There was a brief silence. Then Evelyn said, “Mara?”
Mara frowned. “How did you know?”
“You have a very distinctive way of making an appointment.”
“I said one sentence.”
“You sounded like you were scheduling a dental cleaning you don’t particularly want.”
Mara almost smiled. “Saturday?”
“Eleven?”
“Yes.”
“Will Claire be coming?”
Mara looked across the laboratory.
Daniel was labeling tubes.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“She isn’t allowed to talk.”
Another pause.
“All right.”
“I mean during the reading.”
“I assumed you weren’t imposing a general prohibition.”
“I’ve considered it.”
Evelyn laughed.
“Saturday at eleven.”
“Thank you.”
Mara ended the call.
Daniel looked up. “Dentist?”
“No.”
“Doctor?”
“No.”
“Haircut?”
“No.”
“Palm reader?”
Mara stared at him. Daniel slowly smiled.
“Oh my God.”
“How did you do that?”
“I was joking.”
Mara turned away.
“Mara.”
“No.”
“You’re going back?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She picked up a rack of tubes.
Daniel followed. “Why?”
“Because I have questions.”
“For the palm reader.”
“Yes.”
“About your guides.”
“About her observations.”
Daniel’s grin widened. “That’s somehow even better.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“Are you bringing a clipboard?”
“No.”
A beat.
“A notebook?”
Mara said nothing. Daniel laughed so hard he had to set down the tube in his hand.
⸻
The notebook was new. Mara bought it Friday evening because using her laboratory notebook would have been inappropriate and using one of the half-filled notebooks at home would have irritated her.
The cover was plain black. On the first page she wrote:
EVELYN — INITIAL READING
Underneath, she listed only statements Evelyn had made before Mara or Claire responded.
Woman:
Dark hair, pinned tightly.
Pale blue or gray eyes.
Scar through eyebrow.
High-necked dark dress.
Silver object at waist.
Dirt beneath fingernails.
Repeated rubbing of inside of wrist.
Would not give name.
Man:
Middle-aged.
Large workman’s hands.
Suspenders.
Sleeves rolled.
Burn scar, right hand.
Damaged or missing fingertip.
Cedar.
Smoke.
Cloth-wrapped object, approximately one foot long.
Would not give name.
Third:
Should be present.
Not gone.
Not absent.
Missing.
Then Mara made a second list.
INFORMATION EVELYN MAY NOW HAVE THROUGH ORDINARY MEANS
She stared at the heading.
That list was harder.
Claire knew about the silver case.
Claire had searched historical silver objects online.
Claire had searched Evelyn’s business.
Evelyn had contacted Claire.
Mara had asked Claire about the digging.
Her mother had sent photographs of the silver object to Aunt Carol.
Aunt Carol had presumably spoken to other relatives despite instructions that had been optimistic at best.
There were now too many information pathways to pretend the system was clean.
Mara wrote:
Contamination cannot be fully excluded.
She underlined it.
Then she added:
Do not volunteer new information.
At the bottom she wrote:
Objective: determine whether Evelyn independently reports information not supplied during first reading or subsequently communicated by known pathways.
Mara reread it.
Newton jumped onto the bed.
“This is perfectly reasonable.” Newton sat on the notebook.
Mara stared at him. “Move.”
He did not. “You’re compromising the record.”
Newton began washing one paw. Mara pulled the notebook from beneath him.
⸻
Claire was waiting outside the coffee shop Saturday morning.
“I’m proud of you.”
Mara kept walking.
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m proud of.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You voluntarily made an appointment with a psychic.”
“Palm reader.”
Claire hurried after her.
“Spirit-guide lady.”
“Evelyn.”
“Look at you using her name.”
“I have always used her name.”
“You’re growing.”
“I can still leave.”
Claire caught Mara’s arm.
“No.”
Mara looked down at Claire’s hand.
Claire released her.
“Sorry.”
They crossed the street. The sign in Evelyn’s window looked exactly as it had the first time. Nothing about the building had become more mysterious in the intervening days. Mara found that reassuring. Claire reached for the door.
Mara stopped her.
“Rules.”
Claire groaned.
“Mara.”
“You agreed.”
“I agreed not to tell her anything.”
“That’s not sufficient.”
“Of course it isn’t.”
Mara opened her notebook.
Claire stared.
“You actually brought one.”
“Yes.”
“You made notes.”
“Yes.”
“You made categories.”
“Claire.”
“Sorry. Continue.”
“You do not answer questions unless I specifically ask you to.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t confirm anything Evelyn says.”
“Okay.”
“No facial theatrics.”
Claire looked offended.
“I don’t have facial theatrics.”
Mara stared at her.
“Fine.”
“If she says something you recognize, do nothing.”
“What if she says the woman’s name?”
“Nothing.”
“What if she says forty-one?”
“Nothing.”
“What if she says the woman is buried under your house?”
Mara closed the notebook.
“We’re done.”
“I’m ready.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
They went inside.
⸻
Evelyn was rearranging books on a shelf. She turned. Her eyes went first to Claire. Then Mara. Then the notebook.
“Oh,” she said.
Mara stopped.
“What?”
“You brought documentation.”
“Yes.”
“I suspected you might.”
Claire made a choking sound. Mara pointed at her without looking. “She isn’t allowed to answer anything.”
“Hey.”
“You agreed.”
Evelyn smiled. “Should I be worried?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I have some questions.”
“I assumed.”
“I’d prefer that I ask them after you tell me whatever you perceive today.”
Evelyn considered that. “All right.”
“I also don’t want you to ask Claire for information.”
Claire raised her hand. Mara looked at her. Claire lowered it.
Evelyn’s smile grew. “Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“Of course.”
“If something isn’t clear, say it isn’t clear.”
“I usually do.”
“If you’re uncertain, say you’re uncertain.”
“I usually do that too.”
“Don’t try to make details fit what you remember telling me last time.”
Evelyn pulled out a chair. “Mara.”
“Yes?”
“You know I’m not going to pass whatever test you’ve designed.”
Mara paused. “I haven’t designed a test you can pass.”
Evelyn looked interested. “Then why are you here?”
Mara considered the question. “Because something happened.”
Claire’s head turned toward her. Mara ignored it.
Evelyn did not ask what, that earned her something. Mara wasn’t sure what, but something.
She sat. Claire took the chair beside her. Evelyn sat across from them. The same ordinary lamp stood on the table. The same plant occupied the corner.
Mara looked at it. “Still carrying most of the atmosphere.”
Evelyn laughed. “You remember the plant.”
“I remember everything.”
“I suspect that’s not true.”
“Enough.”
Evelyn folded her hands.
“All right.”
She closed her eyes.
Mara opened the notebook. For nearly a minute, nothing happened. Claire shifted. Mara looked at her. Claire froze.
Evelyn smiled without opening her eyes. “You can let her breathe.”
“She can breathe quietly.”
Claire kicked Mara beneath the table.
Then Evelyn’s expression changed.
Small.
But Mara saw it.
“There she is.”
Mara’s pen stopped above the paper. She did not ask who.
Evelyn opened her eyes. “The woman.”
Mara wrote:
Woman perceived immediately.
“She’s clearer today.”
Mara waited.
Evelyn looked slightly to Mara’s left.
“Same hair.”
Mara wrote.
“Same dress.”
Wrote.
“The silver thing is still there.”
Mara’s pen slowed.
Claire did not move.
Good.
Evelyn frowned.
“I still can’t tell what it is.”
Mara wrote that too.
“What about her hands?” Mara asked.
Evelyn looked down.
“Dirty.”
“Anything else?”
“She keeps showing them to me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she digging?”
Evelyn looked at Mara.
“You already know that.”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you asking?”
“To establish whether your answer changes.”
Evelyn nodded slowly.
“No. She’s still digging.”
“With what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she burying something?”
Evelyn went still.
Mara watched her carefully.
“I don’t know.”
“Is she uncovering something?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does she want something found?”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
A long silence.
Then:
“I don’t think so.”
Mara’s pen stopped.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s new.”
Evelyn opened her eyes.
“What?”
“You said you don’t think she wants something found.”
“Yes.”
“Last time you couldn’t tell what she was doing.”
“I still can’t.”
“But now you have an interpretation of intent.”
“I suppose.”
Mara wrote it down.
Claire leaned slightly to see. Mara covered the page with her hand. Claire mouthed something unkind.
Evelyn smiled, then the smile faded.
“He’s here too.”
Mara turned a page.
“The man?”
“Yes.”
“Same appearance?”
“I think so.”
“Don’t think. Tell me what you see.”
Evelyn looked at her.
Mara waited.
“Large hands.”
Wrote.
“His right hand is damaged.”
“Burn?”
“Yes.”
“Fingertip?”
Evelyn looked down at her own hand.
“Yes.”
“Which finger?”
A pause.
“I still can’t tell.”
Mara wrote:
No increased specificity.
Evelyn leaned forward.
“What did you write?”
“You don’t get to see.”
Claire whispered, “I told you this would be fun.”
Mara ignored her.
“Does he still have the wrapped object?”
Evelyn closed her eyes again.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you tell whether it’s wood?”
“No.”
“Metal?”
“No.”
“Paper?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Could it be a tool?”
“Maybe.”
Mara wrote.
“Weapon?”
Evelyn’s eyes opened.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Mara looked up.
“You’re certain.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“That isn’t useful.”
“I know.”
“Why are you certain?”
Evelyn stared toward the empty space beside Mara.
Then her expression softened.
“Because he isn’t showing it to me like something dangerous.”
“How does someone show you an object dangerously?”
Claire snorted.
Mara glanced at her.
“Sorry.”
Evelyn almost smiled.
“I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Try.”
“He’s careful with it.”
“Fragile?”
“Maybe.”
“Valuable?”
“Maybe.”
“Important?”
“Yes.”
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
“I know.”
Mara wrote.
Then Evelyn said, “He made it.”
Mara stopped.
Claire inhaled.
Mara didn’t look at her.
“Made what?”
“The thing he’s carrying.”
“You’re certain?”
“No.”
Mara looked up.
Evelyn shook her head.
“That’s what I get. I could be wrong.”
Mara wrote:
Possible: man made wrapped object. Low confidence.
Evelyn watched her.
“You really are documenting confidence levels.”
“Yes.”
“I like that.”
“So do I.”
For the first time since entering the room, Mara relaxed slightly.
Then she remembered why she had come.
“The third.”
Evelyn’s expression changed immediately.
Claire went still.
Mara closed the notebook halfway.
“Last time you said there should be three.”
“Yes.”
“You perceived two.”
“Yes.”
“And a place where a third belonged.”
Evelyn nodded.
“You called the third missing.”
“Yes.”
“Do you still perceive that?”
Evelyn didn’t answer.
Mara waited.
“Evelyn?”
“Give me a minute.”
Mara opened the notebook again.
Evelyn closed her eyes.
The room became very quiet.
Outside, a truck passed.
Somewhere in the building, a door closed.
Mara could hear the faint hum of the air-conditioning.
Evelyn breathed slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Then she turned her head.
Not toward the woman.
Not toward the man.
Somewhere else.
Mara watched.
Evelyn’s forehead creased.
“What?”
No response.
Mara’s fingers tightened around her pen.
Evelyn leaned slightly forward.
Then back.
Her eyes opened.
She looked genuinely confused.
Mara recognized the expression.
It was the same one Evelyn had worn during the first reading when the expected third presence wasn’t there.
A result that did not fit.
“What changed?” Mara asked.
Evelyn looked at her.
“I don’t know.”
“Something did.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I can feel her.”
Mara’s pen touched the page.
Stopped.
“Her?”
Evelyn blinked.
Mara didn’t move.
Claire didn’t either.
Good.
Mara said carefully, “Last time you didn’t know whether the third guide was a man or a woman.”
Evelyn stared at her.
“I didn’t?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Mara opened the notebook fully.
“You said there should be three. You never identified the third by sex.”
Evelyn looked away.
Mara waited.
“You know now.”
It wasn’t a question.
Evelyn nodded.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is she still missing?”
Evelyn hesitated. Mara’s pulse quickened.
“Evelyn.”
“I don’t think missing is the right word anymore.”
Mara stared at her. Claire made the smallest movement beside her.
“What is the right word?”
Evelyn didn’t answer. She closed her eyes again. Mara waited. Five seconds.
Ten. Twenty.
Evelyn’s face changed. Not fear. Recognition, perhaps or surprise. She opened her eyes.
“She’s closer.”
Mara did not write it down, for several seconds she simply looked at Evelyn.
Then she asked, “Closer to what?”
Evelyn shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“To me?”
“I don’t know.”
“To you?”
“No.”
The certainty of that answer bothered Mara. “To the other two?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then what does closer mean?”
Evelyn looked frustrated. “I don’t know.”
Mara finally wrote:
Third = female. New information.
Below it:
“She’s closer.” Meaning unknown.
She underlined unknown. Claire had been silent for nearly six minutes, a personal record. Mara closed the notebook.
Evelyn looked surprised, “That’s it?”
“For now.”
“You said you had questions.”
“I did.”
“You asked about six hundred of them.”
“Approximately fourteen.”
Claire made another choking sound. Mara ignored her.
Evelyn studied her. “You haven’t told me what happened.”
“No.”
“Are you going to?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
Mara looked at the notebook. “Because if I tell you, then you know.”
“Yes.”
“And if you know, I can’t ever establish that you didn’t.”
Evelyn was quiet. Then she nodded. “Fair.”
Mara stood. Claire remained seated. Mara looked at her. Claire stood. Evelyn walked them to the front.
At the door, Mara stopped. “One question.”
Evelyn waited. “Does the third woman know she’s missing?”
Claire’s head turned. Evelyn’s expression went blank. Mara immediately regretted asking, not because it frightened her, because it was a bad question. It assumed too much. She started to correct herself.
Evelyn spoke first. “No.”
Mara stared at her. “No, she doesn’t know?”
Evelyn shook her head. “No.”
“Then what?”
Evelyn looked toward the empty room behind them. “I don’t think she knows she’s dead.”
Mara’s hand tightened around the notebook. Claire said nothing. Mara looked at Evelyn for a long moment, then she opened the notebook again. She wrote the sentence exactly as Evelyn had said it. No interpretation. No conclusion. Just the observation. She closed the notebook and left.
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