A Question of Ghosts by Cate Culpepper Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cate Culpepper
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hard to focus on Becca. “Are you all right?”
Becca lifted one hand in reassurance, put it back on her knee, and went on panting. Jo moved closer cautiously.
“Well.” Becca’s voice was muffled. “At least we learned one thing from this. I’m an obedient daughter. Sheesh.”
Becca straightened, and her face was blotched with red where it wasn’t cheesy pale, but her eyes were clear and sharp. Jo huffed out a breath of relief.
“If she’d screamed ‘Becca, cook,’ I’d have a four-course dinner on the table right now.” Becca slid bonelessly into the grass at the base of the statue and sat leaning against it. “Good Lord, Jo. Have you ever heard anything like that?”
“Actually, I have, yes. Warnings are a fairly common theme in transmissions.” Jo wondered if a scholarly approach would be more helpful to Becca now or a nurturing one, and hoped for the former. “I admit I’m astonished by the volume and clarity of the message. That small radio should be utterly incapable of producing such a blast.”
“Yeah, it was impressive.” It was taking Becca too long to catch her breath after a relatively short sprint, and Jo realized how shaken she was. “Is Rachel all right?”
“She was fine enough to pitch me out the door after you. Are you…yourself again?”
“I’m getting there.” Becca squinted up at her and shaded her eyes. “Would you please sit down before my neck goes into spasm?”
Jo would have sat on the ground where she was, but Becca patted the grass next to her. She glanced up at the Lady’s implacable face as if asking for guidance, then lowered herself carefully beside Becca. “You did take that command rather literally. It was your mother’s voice?”
Becca shrugged. “It was a shriek. It’s hard to hear a voice in a shriek, especially a voice you hardly remember.” She hesitated. “But yes, it was her.”
Jo nodded. “Your mother is proving to be remarkably reticent. ‘Not true.’ ‘Becca, run.’ It seems we can’t count on her for more than two words at a time.”
“I sure didn’t inherit that tendency.” Becca sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry, Jo. Normally, I’m not a big fan of drama, but I seem to keep drawing you into some very theatrical scenes.”
“Well.” Jo sat back on her hands and crossed her legs in the grass. “What’s listening for the voices of the dead if not high drama? A chase scene or two probably goes with the territory. But I’m a little surprised that you ran here.”
“The cemetery?”
“Yes. Didn’t you say this place scared you?”
“When I was a kid, sure.” She nodded at the serene statue above them. “But my mom brought me here sometimes, to visit the Lady. I was never scared when she was with me.”
“Really? Are you referring to some kind of psychic summons?”
Becca laughed. “No, I mean she brought me here when I was little, for picnics. It’s green and quiet and peaceful here, like a park. It’s one of the few clear memories I have of my mom—sitting under the Lady, eating peanut butter sandwiches.” She glanced up at the cloaked woman. “I’ve always loved her, Jo. She’s one of the few lifelike images that doesn’t trigger me now. I’m not sure why. Maybe because she was familiar to me before the…trauma happened. She’s obviously a mother, the way she comforts the girl kneeling beside her. I’ve always felt safe here.”
“The Lady means a lot to me, too,” Jo found herself saying. “This is my favorite spot in the cemetery, maybe in all of Seattle.”
“You’re kidding.” Becca sounded both surprised and pleased. “I love that you and the Lady are friends. It’s a good character reference. For you.” She leaned so her shoulder bumped Jo’s lightly. “I’m glad she’s able to bring both of us a little peace.”
Jo felt a warm pulsing on her shoulder where Becca touched her. She realized how very little space separated them. Jo was swept with a
Becca lifted one hand in reassurance, put it back on her knee, and went on panting. Jo moved closer cautiously.
“Well.” Becca’s voice was muffled. “At least we learned one thing from this. I’m an obedient daughter. Sheesh.”
Becca straightened, and her face was blotched with red where it wasn’t cheesy pale, but her eyes were clear and sharp. Jo huffed out a breath of relief.
“If she’d screamed ‘Becca, cook,’ I’d have a four-course dinner on the table right now.” Becca slid bonelessly into the grass at the base of the statue and sat leaning against it. “Good Lord, Jo. Have you ever heard anything like that?”
“Actually, I have, yes. Warnings are a fairly common theme in transmissions.” Jo wondered if a scholarly approach would be more helpful to Becca now or a nurturing one, and hoped for the former. “I admit I’m astonished by the volume and clarity of the message. That small radio should be utterly incapable of producing such a blast.”
“Yeah, it was impressive.” It was taking Becca too long to catch her breath after a relatively short sprint, and Jo realized how shaken she was. “Is Rachel all right?”
“She was fine enough to pitch me out the door after you. Are you…yourself again?”
“I’m getting there.” Becca squinted up at her and shaded her eyes. “Would you please sit down before my neck goes into spasm?”
Jo would have sat on the ground where she was, but Becca patted the grass next to her. She glanced up at the Lady’s implacable face as if asking for guidance, then lowered herself carefully beside Becca. “You did take that command rather literally. It was your mother’s voice?”
Becca shrugged. “It was a shriek. It’s hard to hear a voice in a shriek, especially a voice you hardly remember.” She hesitated. “But yes, it was her.”
Jo nodded. “Your mother is proving to be remarkably reticent. ‘Not true.’ ‘Becca, run.’ It seems we can’t count on her for more than two words at a time.”
“I sure didn’t inherit that tendency.” Becca sighed and ran her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry, Jo. Normally, I’m not a big fan of drama, but I seem to keep drawing you into some very theatrical scenes.”
“Well.” Jo sat back on her hands and crossed her legs in the grass. “What’s listening for the voices of the dead if not high drama? A chase scene or two probably goes with the territory. But I’m a little surprised that you ran here.”
“The cemetery?”
“Yes. Didn’t you say this place scared you?”
“When I was a kid, sure.” She nodded at the serene statue above them. “But my mom brought me here sometimes, to visit the Lady. I was never scared when she was with me.”
“Really? Are you referring to some kind of psychic summons?”
Becca laughed. “No, I mean she brought me here when I was little, for picnics. It’s green and quiet and peaceful here, like a park. It’s one of the few clear memories I have of my mom—sitting under the Lady, eating peanut butter sandwiches.” She glanced up at the cloaked woman. “I’ve always loved her, Jo. She’s one of the few lifelike images that doesn’t trigger me now. I’m not sure why. Maybe because she was familiar to me before the…trauma happened. She’s obviously a mother, the way she comforts the girl kneeling beside her. I’ve always felt safe here.”
“The Lady means a lot to me, too,” Jo found herself saying. “This is my favorite spot in the cemetery, maybe in all of Seattle.”
“You’re kidding.” Becca sounded both surprised and pleased. “I love that you and the Lady are friends. It’s a good character reference. For you.” She leaned so her shoulder bumped Jo’s lightly. “I’m glad she’s able to bring both of us a little peace.”
Jo felt a warm pulsing on her shoulder where Becca touched her. She realized how very little space separated them. Jo was swept with a