Spirit Story - Chapter 4
Spirit Story - Chapter 4
The woman introduced herself as Evelyn. Just Evelyn. Mara noticed that immediately. No Madame Evelyn. No Sister Evelyn. No mystical title printed in gold beneath her name. She simply led them down the short hallway and into a room that was as disappointingly ordinary as the front of the shop.
There was a round wooden table with three chairs, a lamp, a bookshelf and another plant. Mara was beginning to suspect plants were doing most of the atmospheric work.
“Would you like Claire to stay?” Evelyn asked.
Mara looked at Claire. Claire was already sitting.
“I believe that decision has been made.”
Claire smiled. “I’ll be quiet.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I can be.”
“You’ve never demonstrated that ability.”
Evelyn smiled as she took the chair opposite Mara, that helped. Mara had expected solemnity. Performance. Perhaps a meaningful pause while someone lit incense.
Instead Evelyn pushed a box of tissues farther toward the center of the table and said, “Before we start, have you ever had a reading before?”
“No.”
“Do you know much about them?”
“No.”
Claire leaned forward. “She thinks you’re going to tell her she has a long life line and a mysterious journey.”
Mara turned to her. “You were going to be quiet.”
“I was providing context.”
Evelyn laughed softly. “All right. Then we’ll try not to disappoint you.”
Mara liked her a little for that.
Evelyn placed both hands on the table. “You don’t have to believe anything I tell you.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Mara.”
“What? It is.”
Evelyn’s mouth twitched. “I mean it. I tell people to take what feels useful and leave the rest. Sometimes I get things wrong.”
Mara hadn’t expected that. “That’s unusually candid.”
“Would you prefer absolute certainty?”
“No.”
“Neither would I.”
Interesting. Mara settled back slightly. Perhaps this wouldn’t be unbearable.
“May I see your hand?”
Mara extended her right hand across the table.
“You may. Claire has apparently purchased it for the next twenty minutes.”
Claire made a strangled sound beside her.
Evelyn laughed. “Thirty, actually.”
Mara turned slowly toward Claire. Claire became very interested in the bookshelf.
“You said twenty.”
“I rounded.”
Mara looked back at Evelyn. “Apparently you have me for thirty minutes.”
Evelyn took Mara’s hand. Her touch was warm and surprisingly matter-of-fact. She did not close her eyes. She did not hum. She simply turned Mara’s hand slightly toward the lamp and studied her palm.
Mara studied Evelyn. There were several obvious ways to perform this sort of thing.
Age. Clothing. Jewelry. Hands. Speech. Posture.
A person offered information constantly without realizing it.
Mara’s nails were short and unpolished. There was a faint indentation on the bridge of her nose from safety glasses. Her clothes were practical. Her shoes were practical. Her hair had been pulled back for work.
Claire had already mentioned a laboratory... plenty of material.
Evelyn traced one line lightly with a fingertip. “You like certainty.”
Mara almost smiled. There it was. “I like evidence.”
“That’s not quite the same thing.”
Mara looked at her.
Evelyn continued studying her palm. “You don’t mind uncertainty nearly as much as people think you do.”
That was better. “You actually enjoy not knowing something.”
Claire turned toward Mara. Mara ignored her.
Evelyn said, “You just don’t enjoy people pretending they know when they don’t.”
Mara’s smile came despite herself. “I’ll give you that one.”
Claire slapped both hands softly against her knees. “I knew this was going to be good.”
“You’re compromising the experiment.”
“This is not an experiment.”
“Everything is an experiment if you document it properly.”
Evelyn looked up. For a moment, Mara thought she saw the same expression from the front room that slight hesitation, then Evelyn released her hand.
Mara glanced at the clock. Six minutes.
“That’s it?” Claire asked.
“No.” Evelyn sat back. Her attention had shifted. Mara noticed it before Claire did. She was no longer looking at Mara’s palm. She was looking just to the left of Mara.
Mara resisted the urge to turn around.
“Do you know much about spirit guides?” Evelyn asked.
“No.”
Claire made a small excited noise. Mara held up one finger without looking at her.
“Quiet.”
Claire pressed her lips together.
Evelyn’s gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond Mara’s shoulder. “I don’t usually move into this part quite so quickly.”
“What part?”
“People around you.”
“Claire?”
Claire snorted.
Evelyn smiled faintly. “No.”
“Then no.”
“You’ve never been told you have guides?”
“No.”
“Never felt that someone was watching over you?”
“No.”
“Dreamed repeatedly about someone you don’t recognize?”
“No.”
“Felt a presence?”
“No.”
Evelyn finally looked directly at her. “You’re very efficient.”
“I answer what I’m asked.”
“I can see that.”
Claire was visibly suffering under her promise to remain silent.
Evelyn looked past Mara again. “There is a woman.”
Mara waited.
“She isn’t old.”
“That eliminates several billion people.”
“Mara.”
Evelyn laughed. “No, that’s fair.”
Mara appreciated that too. She folded her hands in her lap. Evelyn’s expression became more focused.
“She has dark hair. Very dark.”
Mara said nothing.
“It’s pinned tightly at the back of her head.”
Nothing remarkable there.
“She has very light eyes. Blue, I think. Or gray. They’re unusually pale.”
Mara kept her face neutral. Dark hair and light eyes. Not rare.
“She has a scar.”
Mara’s attention sharpened slightly. “Where?”
Evelyn touched her own eyebrow. “Here. Small. It cuts through the brow.”
Claire looked at Mara. Mara continued watching Evelyn. Interesting specificity. Still meaningless.
Evelyn’s brow furrowed. “She’s dressed strangely.”
“Strangely how?”
“Old-fashioned.”
There it was. Mara almost relaxed, of course she was. Ghosts were apparently contractually prohibited from wearing athletic shoes.
“A dark dress,” Evelyn continued. “High at the neck.”
Mara nodded once.
Evelyn looked at her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You made a face.”
“I didn’t.”
Claire whispered, “You did.”
Mara ignored her.
Evelyn looked beyond Mara again. “There’s something silver at her waist.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell.”
“A buckle?”
“No.”
“A watch?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Jewelry?”
“Maybe.”
Evelyn shook her head. “No. It’s hanging somehow.”
Mara waited for more, none came. That irritated her more than it should have.
Evelyn’s eyes lowered. “Oh.”
“What?”
“Her hands.”
Mara glanced at Claire.
Claire had gone completely still.
“What about them?”
“There’s dirt underneath her fingernails.”
Mara frowned.
Evelyn seemed puzzled by it too. “Quite a bit, actually.”
“In an old-fashioned dress.”
“Yes.”
“Perhaps she’s a gardener.”
“I don’t know.”
“Farmer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why mention it?”
“Because it’s there.”
Mara stopped. Evelyn said it without defensiveness. Because it’s there. For some reason, that answer appealed to her. Mara leaned back. “Fair enough.”
Evelyn’s attention shifted again. The room became quiet. Mara heard traffic outside. A door closed somewhere in the building, then Evelyn began rubbing her thumb across the inside of her own left wrist.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Mara watched. “Why are you doing that?”
Evelyn stopped. “Doing what?”
Mara pointed. “Your wrist.”
Evelyn looked down at her hand as though surprised to find it there. “Oh.” She rubbed the spot again. “She’s doing it.”
“The woman?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Mara looked at Evelyn’s wrist. There was nothing there. No bracelet. No scar that Mara could see.
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You say that a lot.”
“I do when I don’t know something.”
Mara met her eyes. Again, she liked the answer.
Claire finally whispered, “Can you ask her name?”
Evelyn’s expression changed. “I have.”
“And?”
“She won’t tell me.”
Mara raised an eyebrow. “Convenient.”
“Mara.”
“No, that one actually is.”
Evelyn didn’t seem offended. “I agree.”
That surprised Mara. “You agree?”
“Yes.”
Evelyn looked toward the empty space again. “I can usually get a name. Or something close to one. A first letter. A sound. Sometimes a relationship.”
“And she gives you nothing?”
“Not nothing.”
Evelyn studied the space beside Mara. “She knows I’m asking.”
A faint chill moved over Mara’s arms. Air-conditioning, she thought. Vent overhead.
“She just won’t answer.”
Claire whispered, “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Mara glanced at the clock. Fourteen minutes. Nearly halfway. She had acquired an unnamed woman in period clothing with dirty fingernails and an unexplained habit of rubbing her wrist.
She could already imagine Daniel’s response.
And you left my laboratory for this?
Evelyn shifted in her chair. “There is someone else.”
“Another guide?”
“Yes.”
“Do they travel in groups?”
Claire made a choking noise.
Evelyn laughed again. “Sometimes.”
“All right.”
This time Evelyn looked to Mara’s right. “A man.”
Mara waited.
“Middle-aged.”
“How middle?”
“Forties. Maybe early fifties. It’s difficult to tell.”
“Why?”
“He looks weathered.”
Evelyn studied him.
“Large hands.”
She held her own hands apart slightly.
“Very large. Rough. Workman’s hands.”
Mara said nothing.
“He’s wearing suspenders. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.”
“A laborer.”
“Probably.”
Evelyn’s eyes narrowed.
“His right hand is injured.”
Mara looked down involuntarily at Evelyn’s hands.
“How?”
“There’s a burn scar across the back.”
Evelyn traced a diagonal line over her own right hand.
“And…”
She leaned slightly forward.
“What?”
“One of his fingers.”
Mara waited.
“The tip is missing.”
“Which finger?”
“I can’t see clearly.”
“Missing entirely?”
“No. Just part of it. Or badly damaged.”
Mara filed that away despite herself. Dark-haired woman. Eyebrow scar. Working man. Burn scar. Damaged fingertip. Visible injuries were useful details in a performance. They created specificity without requiring names.
Evelyn inhaled then frowned.
“What?”
“That’s strange.”
“What?”
“I smell something.”
Claire immediately sniffed the air.
Mara did too before she could stop herself.
Coffee.
Claire’s perfume.
Something faintly floral from elsewhere in the shop.
“What do you smell?” Mara asked.
“Cedar.”
Evelyn closed her eyes briefly.
“And smoke.”
“From the burn?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fireplace?”
“I don’t know.”
“Occupation?”
Evelyn opened her eyes.
“Mara.”
“Yes?”
“Do you interrogate everyone like this?”
“Only when they’re describing invisible people.”
Claire burst out laughing. Even Evelyn smiled ,then the smile faded.
“He’s holding something.”
“What?”
“I’m trying to see.”
Evelyn became quiet.
“It’s wrapped.”
“In what?”
“Cloth.”
“What kind?”
“I can’t tell.”
“How large?”
Evelyn held her hands perhaps a foot apart.
“About this.”
“Shape?”
“Longer than it is wide.”
“Hard or soft?”
Claire stared at Mara.
“What?”
“You’re interviewing the ghost.”
“I’m interviewing Evelyn.”
“About the ghost.”
“Alleged ghost.”
“Guide,” Evelyn corrected mildly.
Mara looked at her. “Is there a distinction?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“That’s a longer conversation.”
“Convenient.”
This time Evelyn laughed outright.
Mara smiled. She was beginning to enjoy herself, not because she believed any of it.
She didn’t. But Evelyn was better at this than Mara had expected. Much better.
Evelyn’s amusement disappeared abruptly. Her eyes fixed on the space beside Mara.
“Forty-one.”
Mara blinked.
“What?”
“Forty-one.”
“Forty-one what?”
“I don’t know.”
Mara waited.
Evelyn shook her head. “He keeps showing me forty-one.”
“Showing you how?”
“The number.”
“Written?”
“Sometimes that’s what it feels like.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“I know.”
Evelyn concentrated. “Forty-one.”
Claire leaned forward. “Does that mean anything to you?”
“No.”
“House number?”
“No.”
“Age?”
“No.”
“A year?”
“No.”
“Someone’s birthday?”
“No.”
Evelyn asked, “1941?”
“No.”
“April first?”
“No.”
Mara looked between them. “Would either of you like me to continue saying no until we exhaust the mathematical possibilities?”
Claire sat back. “Fine.”
Evelyn was still looking at the man Mara couldn’t see.
“Forty-one,” she said again.
Mara sighed.
“It means nothing.”
Evelyn looked at her. “It will.”
That irritated her. Not frightened. Not unsettled. Irritated. “That’s a very useful prediction.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, because now any time I encounter the number forty-one, I’m more likely to notice it. That’s basic attentional bias.”
Evelyn nodded. “It is.”
“And because you’ve attached significance to it, I’ll remember the occurrences that seem meaningful and ignore the hundreds of other numbers I encounter every day.”
“Yes.”
“Confirmation bias.”
“Yes.”
Mara stopped.
“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”
“Why not?”
“It weakens your position.”
Evelyn smiled faintly. “I’m not trying to win.”
That quieted Mara.
Evelyn looked to her right again.
“Can you ask his name?” Claire said.
“I already did.”
“And?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“He won’t give me his either.”
Mara almost laughed. “Of course.”
But Evelyn wasn’t smiling. In fact, she no longer seemed interested in the man. Her gaze had moved. Not left. Not right. Somewhere between. She frowned.
Mara watched the change happen. It was subtle at first. The muscles around Evelyn’s mouth tightened. She looked toward the woman, then toward the man.
Then back again.
Claire noticed this time. “What?”
Evelyn didn’t answer. She closed her eyes.
Mara glanced at Claire. Claire’s excitement had disappeared.
Evelyn opened her eyes. Looked left. Looked right. Then counted softly.
“One.”
A pause.
“Two.”
Silence.
Mara waited.
Evelyn pushed her chair back several inches.
“There should be three.”
Mara laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Should be?”
Evelyn didn’t laugh. The sound died in Mara’s throat.
Claire leaned forward. “What do you mean, should be three?”
Evelyn wasn’t looking at either of them. “I don’t know.”
Mara felt something shift inside her, not belief. Attention. “What exactly are you perceiving?”
Evelyn looked at her. For the first time since they’d entered the room, Mara saw no trace of amusement in her face. “There are two people with you.”
“You’ve established that.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“There should be another.”
“Based on what?”
Evelyn hesitated. “I can feel where the third one belongs.”
Mara frowned. “Belongs?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not measurable.”
“No.”
“Then explain it another way.”
“I don’t know how.”
Evelyn looked frustrated now, genuinely frustrated. Mara recognized that expression. She had seen it on scientists, technicians, on herself. It was the face of someone receiving a result that did not fit the expected pattern.
Mara leaned forward. “So they’re late?”
Claire looked at her.
Evelyn did not smile. “No.”
“Then absent.”
“No.”
“Gone?”
“No.”
Evelyn’s voice had changed, quieter, certain in a way it had not been when she described the silver object or the cloth-wrapped bundle.
Mara held her gaze. “What, then?”
Evelyn looked once more at the empty place Mara could not see. “Missing.”
Claire whispered, “Missing?”
“Yes.”
Mara sat back. The word was absurd. A person could be missing. Evidence could be missing. A sample could be missing, although not in Mara’s laboratory without paperwork, phone calls, incident reports, and several extremely unhappy people. But an invisible spiritual guide could not be missing because an invisible spiritual guide did not exist.
There was nowhere to go missing from.
Evelyn rubbed both palms slowly over her thighs. “This isn’t right.”
Mara noticed the words. Not unusual. Not interesting. Not I’ve never seen this before.
“This isn’t right how?”
Evelyn looked at her. “You can’t have a missing spirit guide.”
Mara raised one eyebrow. “Apparently I can.”
“No.”
Evelyn shook her head. “That’s not what I mean.”
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