A Medium's Thanksgiving Table Page 3

  Lois was Jacob’s sidekick. She had once owned a bakery in Asheville and she loved to stand behind the cash register regardless of which store she haunted.

  Myrtle was a mild-mannered ghost from a small town near Greenville, South Carolina. She simply enjoyed Asheville’s environment and comradery better than her home town.

  Jacob, Lois, and Myrtle were near the same age even though they’d been born several decades apart. Each of them had died during their forties and that fact seemed to bond them together too. They seemed older to Becky, but she suspected that was because they’d each been affected by the era in which they’d lived.

  Myrtle had been born during the late 1800s when families traveled by horse and buggy. Lois had been born during the 1920s and suffered during the Great Depression. Jacob had been born during the 1950s and had been marred by the Vietnam War. Although now dead and living in the spiritual plane, each was a product of their time period.

  Many thought that ghosts became irritable and destructive if they didn’t crossover right away, but that was not always the case. It depended on the individual ghost. It seemed that their anger was evident only if they had unfinished business and couldn’t find resolution. Jacob, Lois, and Myrtle didn’t have any unfinished business or anger. They simply enjoyed this part of their afterlife. They were also very helpful to Becky in her line of work as a medium.

  After an initial greeting to Becky, the three ghosts chatted lightly in the background while she went about her normal routine to open the store.

  Becky promptly flipped the front door sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open’ at ten o’clock. The first customer of the day was in her mid-twenties. It was obvious from her furtive glances that she had more on her mind than merely shopping.

  “Good morning,” she timidly greeted.

  “Good morning to you,” Becky replied. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

  “Yes, I want to look at your blue cobalt cake trays or serving plates.”

  “They’re on the left side of the store in the large oak hutch. See them?” Becky inquired as she pointed in the general direction.

  “Yes, thank you.” The young woman’s eyes traveled to the hutch and then back to Becky before they darted around the store again. “Would you mind coming with me. I might have some questions.” She asked as the bells on the front door tinkled softly, indicating another customer had come in.

  “Be with you in a moment; feel free to browse,” Becky called out as she followed the first woman to the hutch. “How are you this morning?” Becky asked politely.

  “I’m fine. How are you?” cane the customary and automatic response. To reply with those exact words was as southern as fried green tomatoes and boiled okra. No southern woman ever wanted to admit that they weren’t ‘fine’ or that everything had gone to hell in a handbasket.

  That simply wouldn’t do. And everyone knew that even if you spilled your guts about your troubles, it didn’t make folks like you any better. It showed weakness and southern women were anything but weak. Even in the midst of death and disaster, they pasted on a smile and said, ‘I’m fine, honey; can I get you a glass of sweet iced tea?’

  “You had some questions?” Becky prompted as they stood before the massive oak hutch filled with sparkling glass.

  “No, not really. I only wanted a word in private. My name is Peyton Cummins and you’re Becky Tibbs, right?” Peyton didn’t wait for an answer, “I live nearby and I think I need your help,” she gushed in a harsh whisper, keeping her voice as low as possible.

  Peyton, a pretty brunette with hazel eyes, was stylishly dressed in a long black pencil skirt that stopped at soft, black leather boots.

  She’s definitely not a hippie. They wouldn’t be caught dead wearing leather. To them, leather is the epitome of animal cruelty, Becky thought as she continued her assessment of the anxious young woman. Becky blushed brightly when she noticed her own red roper shod feet next to Peyton’s. I wish I could give up my love for these boots, but I just can’t. Besides, their all old boots. It’s not like I go out and deliberately buy new cowboy boots. What good would it do to throw them all away?

  Becky pushed those thoughts away and continued to examine Peyton. She wore a matching black jacket. The fabric looked expensive and Becky guessed it was silk. The blouse was the color of coffee with cream. With its open neckline it revealed a lovely diamond pendant necklace which looked to be at least three carats. A matching engagement ring sparkled on her left hand. Becky surmised that Miss Cummins either came from money or was about to marry into it.

  “Tell me how you plan to use the cake server,” Becky replied with a genuine smile.

  “Oh, it’s not about that,” Peyton confessed. “I’ve already decided that I want this one.” She picked up a lovely vintage, clear glass 14 inch plate with a blue cobalt pedestal, and handed it to Becky. “You see, I believe I have a different problem. I think I have a ghost problem,” she whispered while glancing around the store again to see if anyone was close enough to overhear.

  “Tell me what makes you think that Peyton.” However, once more the front door bells indicated that another customer had come in for last minute shopping. After that, the bells rang steadily while Becky tried to ascertain what kind of help Peyton needed.

  “I feel cold spots, mainly in the study, which is where I spend most of my time when home, but I’ve also noticed the lamps flickering in rooms all over the house… and my ears pop or get stopped up like I’ve changed altitudes. It can be painful. And then there’s the necklace that my grandfather gave to my grandmother who then passed it to my aunt who left it to me. Oh, it’s complicated. Sorry if I made a mess with that drawn-out explanation.” Peyton’s chest heaved with anxiety.

  Peyton had described almost all the symptoms of a haunting and Becky really wanted to help her. “What about the necklace that was passed down to you?” Becky softly encouraged in an effort to keep Peyton on track.

  “It keeps disappearing!” Peyton exclaimed. “I keep it in the jewelry box on my dresser. I like to wear it for special occasions and sometimes I take it out a few days early and wear it just before a big occasion, like my birthday or Thanksgiving. I looked for it yesterday and it’s gone... Again.”

  “You’ve managed to find it before though, right?” Becky asked to clarify.

  “Yes, it always turns up eventually, but I can’t find it this time. With all the other things going on too, I really think I have a ghost.”

  “How long has the necklace been yours?” Becky inquired.

  “It was left to me several years ago when my aunt passed on.”

  “And, it’s disappearance… Is this a new occurrence or has it always disappeared?”

  “I never had the problem until a few months ago,” Peyton confided.

  “Have there been any recent deaths in the family?”

  “No, not recently. The last one to die was my aunt. As I said, that was several years ago.”

  “How can I help?” Becky asked.

  “Could you come to my home: I guess to sort of make a house call? Is that possible?” Peyton requested but before Becky could reply she rushed on, “I don’t honestly know how these things work. I just know you came highly recommended as a person who could help with touchy little problems like this one.”

  “Take a deep breath,” Becky advised.

  “I’m just so nervous. I mean, I’ve heard ghost stories my entire life and I’ve seen those silly supposedly ghost buster reality television shows, but here I am asking for your help. Are the things they say about you true? Can you really see ghosts and talk to them? You know, solve problems for both the living and the dead when it’s the same problem? Now, I’m rambling which is exactly what I do when I get nervous.”

  “Breathe,” Becky encouraged as she noticed a customer at the cash register trying to get her attention. “I’m not sure if everything you’ve heard about me is true, but I will try to help you. I need to check out a customer but I’ll b
e right back. Promise.”

  Peyton was becoming so distraught that she could only nod her head in response.

  Becky lightly patted her on the shoulder before she went to the waiting customer.

  She set the cake stand on the counter for Peyton, rang up the items, and then quickly scanned the store to see if anyone else needed help. That’s when Becky discovered that Peyton was gone.

  Becky helped several more of the customers and when the din died down a bit, she returned the cake platter to the hutch. A contact card with Peyton’s address and phone number lay on the hutch shelf.

  Chapter 8

  After she closed the shop that evening, Becky drove her tan 2001 F-150 pickup to the address on Peyton’s card. Justin had left the truck to Becky in his will and it was her most prized possession.

  While she was in college, she’d spent every summer scouting for antiques in the small towns and cities within sixty miles of Asheville. She’d used the truck because her father insisted that she should fill the six foot bed every week with worthy items and return the purchases to the antique store. When she’d get back with her treasures, Justin would go through each item and give an assessment of its value. Becky didn’t realize it at the time, but it was her training for the day she’d become owner of the store.

  Now, as she found the address, Becky noticed that it wasn’t the most elaborate home located near the Botanical Gardens in the Historic Montford District, but it was a nice home nonetheless. When she knocked on the door, Peyton answered immediately. Becky handed her the blue cobalt cake stand that Peyton had picked out earlier that day and Peyton quickly gave Becky a check in the amount they had agreed to on the phone when they’d set the appointment.

  Peyton was dressed in a long, flowing hemp dress that seemed to move by itself as she led Becky into a private study. Becky felt shabby in comparison with her blue jean jumper, red thermal shirt, and matching red cowboy boots, but she pushed those thoughts away and declined the polite offer of a beverage. She sat down in a burgundy leather armchair as Peyton indicated.

  “I’m sorry I left in such a rush,” Peyton apologized. “It’s overwhelming to discuss this where someone might overhear.”

  “I understand,” Becky replied.

  “Thank you for coming over even after all that.”

  “Tell me what you’d like for me to know,” Becky encouraged.

  “I’ve been thinking about your questions in the store today. It is very odd that the necklace only began to disappear during the last several months. I didn’t want to think it had anything to do with Russ, my fiancé, but it seems to have begun in April when we got engaged. My fiancé is very generous,” Peyton said as her hand fluttered to her throat to lightly stroke the diamond necklace hanging there, “and I love him very much. He travels a lot and I’m alone more than I’d like to be, but his work takes him all over the world. It was a whirlwind romance and we fell in love right away. Russ proposed six weeks after we met.”

  As Peyton praised Russ, the lights began to flicker and Becky caught glimpses of the ghost responsible for Peyton’s torture. The spirit was static and appeared in black and white, similar to an old television show from the fifties. It indicated she was very angry about something. “Oh, poor her,” the ghost ground out between clenched teeth. “Silly ninny that she is finally understands.” It was apparent that the ghost felt no sympathy for the one she tormented.

  The apparition appeared to be in her late twenties. Her long blonde hair was wet and limp with bits of moss and twigs tangled in its strands. Water from some source such as a pond or river dripped all over the plush carpet where she stood. She wore soaking wet jeans and a casual, off-the-shoulder tee-shirt that was popular well over a decade ago. Becky watched the puddle of water grow larger around the area where the spirit stood, but Peyton was unaware of the ghostly presence or the soggy rug.

  “She’s here,” Becky advised Peyton.

  “What do you mean? Who is here?” Peyton gasped.

  “My name is Sharrone,” the ghost hissed as the lights angrily flashed with each acidic word. “I’ve been trying to communicate with this dumb cow for months.”

  Peyton, in the in the midst of expressing her admiration for Russ, suddenly noticed the static, frigid energy that filled the room. She quickly sucked in her breath and briskly rubbed her arms to dispel the chill.

  “Peyton, do you know a Sharrone?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” Peyton conceded as tears fell from her eyes like rain.

  “Of course she doesn’t know me!” Sharrone indignantly screeched. “How could she? I doubt someone so idiotic has ever been to a neighboring state, much less across the pond.”

  “Where did you live?” Becky calmly asked.

  “Why, London, of course!” Sharrone acidly spit out each word, and although Peyton couldn’t see the spirit, the icy words were like darts directed into her mind.

  Peyton grabbed her head in pain. “Oh, it hurts!” she cried out. “Make it stop, please.”

  “Stop this foolishness, Sharrone!” Becky commanded. “You cannot torment Peyton this way. She doesn’t even know who you are. What has she to do with you? And, why have you been taking her inherited necklace?”

  “I was trying to get her bloody attention!” Sharrone screeched as she made a hasty retreat. After the angry ghost left, everything in the room calmed and returned to normal.

  “Peyton, has Russ ever mentioned someone named Sharrone?”

  “No-o-o,” she sobbed. “Who is shee-e-e? What does she want with me or my necklace?”

  “That’s what we’re going to find out,” Becky reassured. Sharrone was angry about something and Becky needed to find out why if the haunting was to stop. “Will Russ be home for Thanksgiving?”

  “Yes, we’ve planned an evening meal because his flight gets in around five on Thursday evening. He’ll be home with me through Sunday evening.”

  “I believe we’ll need to have him present for this, Peyton. Can you arrange that for Friday or Saturday evening after I close the store for the day?”

  “Yes, I’ll make sure he is available.”

  Becky let herself out and went home. She still had a lot to do for her own Thanksgiving meal and even though she hadn’t been able to immediately help Peyton solve the problem, she was sure that she’d get to the bottom of the matter after Russ was present.

  Chapter 9

  Although Becky had set clear boundaries with the ghosts in Asheville and advised them that her home life was not to be disturbed except for dire emergencies, as soon as she got home, Jacob appeared. He was frantic as he hurriedly explained the reason for his unannounced and uninvited visit.

  “Becky, there’s a young ghost boy who really needs your help,” he began.

  “What do you mean? A child should’ve crossed over immediately,” Becky replied, forgetting her irritation that ghost business had once again invaded the privacy of her home, her ‘sacred space,’ as Zetmeh called it.

  “Please don’t be upset with me,” Jacob pleaded. “He didn’t crossover and he is trapped at the hospital refusing to leave until he can say goodbye to his parents and grandparents.”

  “Well, we have to help him,” Becky asserted, “Where are they?”

  “Mission Hospital. That’s why I need your help. Landon and his parents were involved in a traffic accident tonight. He’s only twelve-years-old and very frightened. He was traveling with his family to spend the holiday weekend with his grandparents in Swannanoa. While on US-70 East, the last leg of the trip, a large truck swerved into their lane forcing their vehicle off the road. Landon saw the huge truck coming towards them, and in a panic, he leapt from the car. At least, that’s the way he remembers it. He feels terrible that he abandoned his parents at such a terrible time.”

  “His parents are in the hospital?”

  “They survived but they’re in guarded condition. I don’t think that Landon knows he is dead. Now, he refuses to leave the hospital where his pare
nts are recovering from their injuries. They’re in and out of consciousness and no one has notified the grandparents to let them know about the accident.”

  “Let’s go,” Becky encouraged, “you can tell me the rest on the way.”

  Once inside her truck, Jacob continued where he’d left off, “The fact that his grandparents don’t know about the accident torments Landon even more. He describes his grandparents as old and he believes they’re home wringing their hands with worry because his family never arrived. We need you Becky. We need you to do all the things that only a physical body can do, like make phone calls, and help Landon say goodbye to his parents and grandparents.”

  When she arrived at the hospital, Landon was in despair. He’d already frantically approached everyone he saw, begging for their help, but no one could see him. He was invisible to anyone who didn’t have the special gift that Becky had. Becky smiled at the youngster and he stopped rushing about to stare at her.

  “Wait, can you see me?” he asked. Then he spotted Jacob again.

  “I promised that I would get help,” Jacob assured. “This is Becky Tibbs. She helps both the living and the dead.”

  “I guess I’m really dead,” Landon sorrowfully replied with his head down. “I have to be because no one pays me any mind at all. They can literally walk right through me. I’m scared. I never dreamed that it would be this way or that I would die so soon.” Then he gazed at Becky and pleaded, “You’ll really help me?”

  “I will,” Becky sweetly affirmed. “I really will. Jacob explained that you were on your way to visit your grandparents when the accident happened. Can you tell me their names and phone number so I can call them? They need to know that your parents are here.”

  Landon gave Becky the information she needed and then he quietly sobbed as he sat on a blue, padded bench in the sterile waiting room with Jacob.