The House on Serpent Lake (Ghost, Romance, Fantasy) Page 15

  “Is that why you’re here? Revenge on the house—or someone?”

  No.

  “Do you want to harm me? Or my husband?”

  No.

  “Are you causing the strange things that have been happening to me?”

  Yes. No. Yes. No.

  “I don’t understand.” She turned to Katie. “Do you know what this means?”

  “Maybe he can’t answer that. Ask another question and see what you get.” She paused. “Ken, are you getting all this?”

  “Yeah.” No longer snapping pictures, the young man was busy with his notes.

  Lindsay wondered how to ask the next question, the one at the heart of everything that had been happening since moving to the house.

  “Do you know me?”

  All lights on the K2 began a series of rotations, finally doing dim. Then it lit once.

  Yes.

  “Twenty milligausses,” Katie said to Ken. “Be sure and note that.”

  “Is that good?” Lindsay asked.

  “It’s a strong response.”

  “Camera died,” Ken said.

  “Mine too,” Joyce added.

  “Energy drain,” Katie told Lindsay. “Is there more you want to ask?”

  Only a couple million questions, Lindsay thought. She had an important one but wasn’t sure how to ask, especially in front of the others.

  “Do I know you?”

  Katie cut a questioning glance at her client, but Lindsay kept watch on the meter. This was the key to everything that had been happening, but to her disappointment, there was no response.

  “The spirit may have left,” Katie said.

  Sharon whispered. “He’s still here, but he’s fading.”

  No, he can’t leave now. “Galen, please don’t leave.”

  “Try asking in a different way,” Katie suggested.

  “Did we know each other … before?”

  Again the sharp glance from Katie.

  Lindsay waited for a response, but again nothing happened.

  “Galen, please. I need to know.”

  Finally, one faint answer.

  Yes.

  Lindsay stared at the button. Excitement surged through her. It was true. Her dreams were based on reality.

  A familiar buzzing vibrated in her right ear, as if someone were speaking in a range she couldn’t perceive.

  “I heard something,” Sharon said, plugging in her headphone to the EVP recorder. “Can you speak again?”

  Again Lindsay heard the sound. “What? I don’t understand.”

  “I got it! Let me make sure.” Listening intently through her headphone, Sharon played it back, punched some buttons, then handed the recorder and headphones to Katie. “See if you hear the same thing.”

  Katie listened. “That was clear! Definitely a Class A EVP. I’ll play it for you, Lindsay. It’s only a couple of words, but I think you’ll be able to understand them.” She punched the speaker button.

  Static filled the room, but then a voice spoke over the noise. A faint one, but distinct. The voice she’d heard in her dreams. His voice.

  An all-consuming joy spread warmth through her body. Tears tumbled down her cheeks.

  It was Galen.

  “Are you all right?“Katie asked, taking a tissue from her jean’s pocket.

  “More than all right.” Dabbing her eyes, Lindsay smiled. “Play it again, please. I couldn’t make out the words.”

  Katie hit the button, and this time Lindsay caught the enunciation. He spoke two words, the same two he’d whispered as he lay dying of gun shots, the promise he made to her as she cradled him in her arms, begging him not to leave her.

  “I’ll wait.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Katie’s crew packed to leave, congratulating each other on the evening’s successful investigation. Off to the side, apart from the conversation, Lindsay silently watched. While she had suspected the truth, tonight’s session had been overwhelming.

  Galen, the man from her dreams, was real. And they knew, or had known, each other. Her dreams were factual, which meant, she realized, her whimsical stories as a child were based on fact.

  There could only be one explanation—a former life, a life lived in this house.

  Reincarnation.

  Memories she had spent a lifetime pushing away flooded back, the adult voices speaking to her child’s mind. What she was telling them wasn’t rational, they’d said, shaking their heads in pity, followed by doctor’s appointments, the treat of institutionalization if she ever spoke of such things again.

  And she hadn’t. Eventually the visions had faded.

  Early in her adult life, she had toyed with the theory of reincarnation, had even bought some books on the subject seeking something, some explanation for what she had experienced. But with the voices of the adults from her young world still echoing in her mind, the idea that she had been born again into a new life had seemed ludicrous.

  But now she wondered. How else could she explain the déjà vu she’d experienced the first time she saw the house and everything that had happened afterward? Even though it was beginning to make sense, she still found it incredible.

  Visions? Dreams?

  Reincarnation?

  But, she thought, the old doubts returning, if it were reincarnation, if she had been Berina, why didn’t she remember the woman’s life during her waking hours?

  She did remember: the posey wallpaper, going to the outhouse. Certain segments of Berina’s life were coming back, just not everything.

  Dare she believe? Even if she did, how would she explain it to Eric? Although it wasn’t a laughing matter, she smiled, picturing his reaction.

  She must have made a sound as both Katie and Sharon stopped their packing to look at her.

  “I was just thinking of my husband’s reaction to all this,” she explained with a sad smile. “He already thinks I’ve lost it. If I tell him I had a ghost hunter investigate the house, he’ll certainly be convinced I’ve gone off the deep end.”

  “That’s a common reaction,” Katie said, “and you’re in a tough spot. I wish I could help, but while the team can sometimes record evidence of a haunting, I can’t advise clients how to deal with it—except to try to understand.”

  Lindsay had no answer.

  “Or,” Sharon said, “if they prefer, arrange for an exorcism.”

  “Force him out?” That hadn’t even occurred to her. Did she want him to go? Even though it would certainly help her marriage, she realized she didn’t want Galen to leave.

  God, how warped was she to prefer a ghost to her husband?

  “You have another option,” Katie said. “As I mentioned before, you might wish to try and contact the spirit further through a medium.”

  “Would I be able to learn more about him? And about my relationship with him?”

  “It’s possible, but not guaranteed,” Sharon said. “We can try.”

  Katie quietly studied Lindsay. “There’s more at play here than a simple haunting, isn’t there? As if a haunting could ever be simple.”

  Sudden tears tumbled down Lindsay’s cheeks and she couldn’t speak. Embarrassed, she ran into the kitchen for a tissue, a paper towel, anything.

  Katie followed.

  “I’m sorry,” Lindsay managed, trying to stem the flow. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  “It’s all right. It’s been quite a night, and I’m sure your emotions are all over the place.”

  “It’s just, just …” Fresh tears appeared.

  Katie, her arms around her client, gently led her to a chair.

  “Try to relax and let yourself adjust to what’s happened. You’ve been through quite a lot, you know.”

  “You have no idea how much.”

  “I wish I could help.”

  “You mentioned a private session. I might try that.”

  “I don’t know anything about you or your relationship with the spirit, and I don’t want to pry, but o
bviously he seems to know you. Perhaps he has something he wants you to know, some message he wants to pass on to you, and a personal reading could be helpful.”

  Should she tell Katie what she truly suspected? It would be such a relief to confide in someone, someone who believed the implausible was possible.

  “If I’m right,” she began, “I knew the spirit … Galen, before.”

  Katie pulled out the chair next to her client and sat. “Before you were married? Was he a former lover, maybe one who doesn’t want to let go?”

  “I wish it were that simple.” Lindsay barely took a breath. “I think I knew him … in a former life.” She paused, waiting for Katie’s reaction. If the investigator believed her, she could possibly help, but if not, if she dismissed it like everyone else had always done, Lindsay would be more alone than ever.

  She searched Katie’s eyes, intent on hers. What would she say?

  “I see.” Katie sat back in her chair.

  Lindsay felt as if her soul were weeping. “You don’t believe me.”

  “It’s not that I don’t believe you. I hadn’t expected anything like that, so I’m thinking how best to help you.”

  Lindsay kept her eyes on the investigator, clinging to her words as if she were sucked into a whirlpool and Katie her rescuer.

  “Reincarnation is a doctrine followed by more people than you might aware of,” Katie began, “and it’s grown in popularity in the past few decades. I think the best advice I can offer is to do some research. Read about Hinduism, the Buddhists, and other religions that practice the belief. Find out why they believe as they do.”

  “Then you believe in reincarnation?”

  “My personal belief is not the question. Instead, you need to find answers to your dilemma, although I’m not certain it’s a dilemma. Most people who’ve remembered their past lives have found the experience enriching, sometimes an answer for phobias, for likes and dislikes in their present life.”

  “Phobias aren’t my problem. I’m discovering I’ve lived a former life with this ghost, this man. For what purpose? Am I supposed to learn something from realizing I knew him in a former life? All it’s done is make me grieve over our lost lives and long for him now. I’m a married woman who wants a ghost rather than her husband. How do I deal with that now?”

  “You must not make the mistake of sacrificing your present life with the one you’ve already lived, no matter how much you loved this man. Remember, Lindsay, you have this life to live now. Knowing about your past can enrich this life.”

  Lindsay’s voice was barely a whisper. “But what if my past life was better?”

  “Was it truly? Was your former life better than the one you’re living now?”

  Lindsay didn’t answer. While she longed for Galen in the flesh, she also remembered the heartbreak of clandestine meetings, of knowing he couldn’t be hers, and of finally, the agony of watching him die.

  But wasn’t having him, even for a short time in her former life, better than enduring this life without him?

  “I’m not sure.”

  “If you’re that uncertain, I suggest you work to change your present life.” Her expression somber, Katie continued. “Life is a precious gift, not to be taken lightly. We all have a purpose, so work, study, try to find the meaning of this life you have today.” She paused. “I know this must be difficult for you, and I’ll try to help all I can. The spirit in this house desires communication with you, and through him, I see images of two people stealing moments together, two young people deeply in love. While I can’t promise results, perhaps I’ll be able to see more during a session. Then perhaps you will know what to do.” She handed Lindsay her card. “Call when you’re ready.”

  Lindsay studied the card as if it alone could answer her questions.

  “We all have a purpose in life you know,” Katie said. “Perhaps together, we can discover yours.”

  Lindsay placed the card into the silverware drawer so she wouldn’t lose it. She already knew she’d make an appointment, but she needed some time to adjust to everything that had happened that night.

  Later, after everyone had left, she poured a glass of wine and took it to her bedroom. If only she could relax and logically sort things enough to form a plan of action.

  She decided to read everything she could on the subject, but at the moment she felt too consumed with the wonder of it all to worry about theories and whether they could be proven.

  A former life in this house …

  … as Berina.

  Would she eventually remember everything about that life? She couldn’t answer that, and right now she wasn’t certain it was crucial to remember everything.

  She thought of Frida, and for a heartbeat in her erratic memory, she could see the look on her sister’s face that terrible night when Frida realized whom she’d shot. And with that realization came the knowledge that she, Berina, had betrayed her.

  Lindsay wished it had been different, and while she didn’t consciously remember, she knew from Eric and the attorney that Frida had cared for her, Berina, until she died.

  Why? Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?

  She sipped her wine and drew her bath, wishing she knew the answer. But knowing wouldn’t change her love for Galen, either in the past or today.

  Adding lavender salts, she longed for his arms, and at that instant, she knew her relationship with Eric was over. When a woman prefers a ghost to her husband, there’s not much chance of a happy marriage.

  She just hoped he didn’t come home before she could process everything, one way or the other.

  She stepped into the tub, thinking of that evening Galen had begun to make love to her right after she and Eric had moved in. Before she’d realized it wasn’t her husband, she had become passionately aroused.

  “Galen.” Even saying his name sent a delicious shiver through her body.

  She was totally, madly in love—with a ghost.

  Once in bed, she left on the lamp … just in case.

  Would she dream of her lover tonight? If she did, please God, let it be of any time other than of that horrific last evening.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Something woke Lindsay and she opened her eyes to total darkness. The bedside light had gone out and the moon had disappeared.

  All her senses alert, she lay wondering what had disturbed her sleep. Was it Galen? Would he appear to her tonight?

  She sat up and scanned the blackness. “Galen? Are you here?”

  Only silence answered her. And not a trace of Bay Rum.

  After a few moments of waiting, hoping he’d appear, she lay back down and closed her heavy eyes. After such an emotional evening, she desperately needed sleep.

  Still, something was wrong. But what?

  She listened to the still night. And realized it was too still. No frogs, no crickets, nothing.

  She sat up and strained to listen. But there was no sound except for her heart pounding in her temples.

  Then she heard it. A soft splash from the lake, a sound different from a jumping fish or a turtle. Something unusually large was breaking the surface, yet it didn’t sound as if it were rising and flopping back into the water; instead, the splash was quieter, as if whatever it was could glide through the water without attracting attention.

  The lake creature?

  She rubbed her eyes. Was this strange sound part of a dream? Was she dreaming now?

  The splash sounded again, so, dream or not, she padded to the front bedroom overlooking the lake.

  Pushing the drapes aside, she searched the water below. The moon slipped behind streaked clouds, and all she could see were vague outlines in the dim light. But directed by a slight splash, she spotted a dark outline in the center of the lake directly in front of the house. Even while she watched, an elongated head with a slim neck rose about four to five feet above the surface, water dripping from its snout.

  Kahnah’bek?

  She couldn’t believe what
she was seeing.

  In only her tee and panties, she flew downstairs and down the porch steps to the shore, her bare feet racing over grass, sand, and pebbles. On the beach, she caught a slight fishy odor. The night was so dark she could barely make out features, but there, right before her, the creature of legends appeared. She stared in awe, too entranced to be frightened. It made a slight blowing sound as if it were clearing water from its nostrils, then turned its head and looked directly at her.

  “Hello,” she whispered, then realized what a ridiculous thing to do.

  The creature stared a moment more then soundlessly sank beneath the water. A large flipper appeared, then submerged as the creature rolled or turned in a different direction. Hundreds of bubbles rose to the surface, faded, then the water was calm again.

  Her heart racing, Lindsay stood several minutes to see if it would reappear, but when the moon came out of hiding, it revealed nothing unusual on the lake waters. The frogs, crickets, and insects resumed their nightly chorus, and a mosquito landed on her neck, another on her arm. Slapping them, she ran back to the house.

  She had actually seen the fabled lake creature.

  What should she do? Call the sheriff? Would they believe her? And if they did, would they hunt it down and kill it?

  Is that what she wanted?

  The creature had looked right at her and didn’t try to harm her. It simply disappeared below the surface.

  The creature. She’d call and tell Eric the legend was true, that she had actually seen it. He would be asleep, but this was too exciting not to share.

  She headed for the house phone in the parlor, then hesitated. Oh sure, she’d could imagine his reaction to a call in the middle of the night. She’d tell him she’d seen the monster and then tell him not only did his ancestral home house a ghost, but she had lived before as his aunt.

  He’d certainly believe all that.

  Maybe she’d keep it all to herself just a little longer.

  Just as she entered her room, she paused. The room was different, the air thicker. The hairs on her arms prickled.

  Cautiously she entered, looking all around. Was it Galen? Would he finally appear?