Chapter Seventeen: Communicating with the Dead

The lights were dimmed. Buffy sat on one side of the table and Carrie on the other; both staring at the board that say between them. They had long since passed the days of giggling teenagers that would play this game for fun. After Buffy has taken a tour of the house and they sat around and talked for a while, she too became convinced that something lurked there, something not evil but certainly not of this realm.

“Ah you ready dahling?” Buffy asked, while taking a deep breath and resolutely setting her hands on one side of the plastic wedge.

The cool winds of autumn were making a tree branch beat a cadence on the window of the dining room. It was eerie. There was a full moon in the nocturnal sky. It was a perfect night for bats and witches and all manner of things that played on the imaginations of young children and adults, young at heart, as Halloween neared.

“As ready as I will ever be I guess.” Said Carrie and she placed her hands on the other side of the planchette.

The silence in the house was strong and only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the sitting room broke the stillness. The two women sat opposite one another and concentrated as hard as they could. Carrie asked the first question.

“Is there any spirit here this evening?”

The tiny wedge moved quickly forward to the word yes. Carrie’s touch was light and the pale pallor of her friend confirmed that the wedge had moved on its own.

“Is it Susannah?” Buffy questioned. The wedge much to their surprise moved to rapidly to no.

“Who is here then?” And in a haphazard manner the planchette zigged and zagged across the board, briefly resting on the letters S-T-E-P-H-E-N.

“Stephen were you the husband of Susannah in life?” Their plastic guide moved slowly across the board – yes. Carrie had the distinct impression that it was sorrowful.

“Stephen, help us here. We want to understand what it is you need. Did Susannah die from complications of childbirth?”  Suddenly the triangle moved violently off of the board. It moved so quickly that their fingers fell where they were.

Buffy looked at Carrie and arched her eyebrows as if to query was that enough or were they done? Carrie shook her head and went over to pick up the wedge. She repeated her question and this time the wedge went to no.

“Was she murdered?” It took a different path this time and very slowly, very deliberately spelled out N-O.

“Then why do you haunt Stephen, what is it that needs our help?”  They waited almost an interminable time. Slowly it began to move the letters he spelled shook them to their core. I – L-O-V-E-D H-E-R.

They were able to ask one more question before their contact with the spirit world ceased to exist. “Give me a clue Stephen, what is the mystery?”

Slowly the piece of plastic, with a life of its own, moved across the board stopping momentarily on various letters, and then rapidly as if he needed to get it done in a hurry. G-V-N-R-M-A-S-O-N.

“Stephen that doesn’t make sense, please help me.” The wedge moved no more under the light touch of their hands. Stephen was gone.

“What was that last thing he spelled Buffy?” Carrie asked as her friend had written down the letters.

“Well as near as I can figure he wants you to go to the Governor’s Mansion, but that burned down right after Governor Hughes passed away if I remember my local history correctly. All that stands there now is a museum with some stuff of his and some period artwork and furniture. Not really worth the price of admission and admission is free.”

“I will try and get there tomorrow then.” Carrie said.

“You’ll have to wait until Monday, it’s closed on the weekends.”

“Damn!” she muttered, Carrie was not patient and that would be a very long wait!

Carrie spent the weekend puttering around the haunted but beloved old house. She did all the little things that she shouldn’t have because it was not hers. But she couldn’t help it, this house held her soul within it’s walls. She worked in the garden, pruned the trees and shrubs, raked the leaves and then headed to the store to get some Halloween decorations. She wanted to talk Charlie into hosting an open house for the kids of the town. She kind of thought Susannah would want it that way; a happy house with a lot of kids around it.

The weekend seemed to drag by at least until Sunday. Carrie decided that she needed to get some pumpkins to add to her decorations. It just didn’t seem right without a scary pumpkin on the front porch, or two or three. She got in the car and drove till she found a local pumpkin patch, and bought five of the biggest pumpkins they had. It was a ridiculous purchase and somewhat extravagant but after all Halloween was her second favorite holiday, second only to Christmas.  The thought of the holidays approaching brought tears to her eyes. Carrie realized with sudden clarity that her parents’ cruise would be done in a month. She would have to head home and back to her normal existence. She would have to leave her beloved house and Charlie, if that were possible. And she would have to give John an answer. The problem was she still didn’t know what that answer would be. Her tears of sadness quickly turned to tears of frustration and she wiped them viciously away as she drove home.

Carving pumpkins was never an easy task. Carrie set them all on the old wooden porch and went up to change into her oldest sweat clothes. She pulled her hair back in a loose ponytail and then set about finding this biggest knife and the largest bucket to house pumpkin guts. Then, she sat on the porch Indian style in front of the largest one and began to methodically carve into his cranium. She was covered in slimy orange goo and seeds. If nothing else mild destruction was a stress reliever.

“Umm is this a private party or can anyone join in?” asked the tall, dark and handsome cowboy leaning on the side of his car. She rewarded his intrusion with a shy smile and subconsciously brushed the wayward hair out of her eyes. She looked like a cat, he thought, so intense. Her tongue was even sticking out as she cut the pumpkin with swift yet delicate motions. How could anyone look sexy covered in pumpkin goo?

“Know anything about carving pumpkins? It’s always more fun with a friend.” She invited him to come join her on the porch. She was slightly self-conscious of her bedraggled appearance. She blushed as he came up and ran his hand along her silken tresses before he sat down next to her.  Pulling a pumpkin toward him, he took the knife and carved the hole into the top. They worked side by side in comfortable silence. Carrie loved it. Being comfortable in silence is a mark of a good friendship,

“So did you learn anymore about our resident apparitions?” he asked her while he worked on making a scary face in his overly round pumpkin’s head. Carrie’s face beamed with excitement as she told him all about the research and the séance of sorts that she and Buffy had two nights ago. He arched an eyebrow as proof of his skepticism, but he wisely let it pass without comment.

“Glad I wasn’t here. I don’t know if I want to get into a fist fight with an invisible opponent with an attitude.” She giggled and they lapsed back into their silence consumed by spooky thoughts and artistic explorations.

When she finished her first pumpkin, Carrie glanced sideways at her partner. He looked so handsome, so well groomed sitting beside her in her present disheveled state. A man should never look better then the woman he is with and with that thought in her mind, she swiftly picked up a handful of pumpkin slime and hefted it at her friend. It landed with a splat all over his denim shirt. He looked up and smiled, a smile that went form his delicious mouth up to his steel blue eyes. Charlie contemplated his revenge. He hefted a small handful and aimed it directly at her face, but with an adeptness born of skill and years of warring with her all male cousins, Carrie blocked the assault with the large spoon. And with a flick of the wrist the deflected goop bounced right back from whence it came. When Charlie picked up the bucket, Carrie got up and ran. They chased one another around the grounds of the old house. If anyone were listening closely, they would have heard the trees breathe a collective sigh of relief as the two friends, more like children now, ran and played amongst their leaves that had long since been forgotten by generations of people.

It didn’t take long for Charlie to catch up to her and he raised the bucket and took aim. The slop went flying everywhere, blending the rust colored contents of the bucket with the vibrant foliage on the ground.  Some even landed on the trunk of an old tree that Carrie had use for cover and some landed on target, covering Carrie’s rosy cheeks. She collapsed to the ground laughing. Charlie joined her and extended his hand to help her up but she pulled him down instead. He landed with a thud beside her, their laughter creating sweet melodious music in the autumn air. He reached toward her to brush the pumpkin off her face. A gentle brush of his thumb, it was so soft, so sensual. She caught his hand against her face and held it in hers. Their eyes locked as they drew in a collective breath. The air came to a halt around them. Leaves fluttered slowly to the ground. Leaning unconsciously ever closer to one another, their lips met. It was a sweet kiss, slow and passionate. When she fell to the ground beneath him he did not mind. They stayed that way for sometime. Bodies touching bodies, limbs intertwined, leaves crunching under the pressure. It was a stolen moment. And not until the sun glinted off a piece of glass somewhere in the distance did Charlie remember that this girl might be another man’s fiancé. It was hard but he forced himself to pull away.

Carrie rose to her elbows; the dreamy look of a girl who had just been kissed and kissed well alight in her eyes. Her fingers traveled lightly over her lips, still throbbing from the crush of his mouth on hers. Thoughts of Jon were forgotten as she stared at Charlie and he stared back, but passion was replaced with a hint of caution that she failed to understand.

“How about dinner?” he said as he extended his hand to her again and this time they made it to their feet.

“Sounds good, pizza?” Carrie asked him and he agreed. “But I have to change first. I can’t go like this.”

“Alright but I think you are at a distinct advantage over me. I can’t tidy up as well.”

“You look fine,” she said, eyes dancing in amusement. “Except for that little bit of orange on your shirt. You really should be more careful,” and with a final shove she was off and running to the house. He was right behind her.  Their dinner was great. They laughed. They talked of their history, their families, their off-the-wall friends. They talked about everything but avoided by an unspoken mutual consent the subject of their lives together. This time when he kissed her good night, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.