Edge of the Shadow Page 2

  Rose pushed a glass into her hand. "Here, drink this." The rim of the glass knocked against her teeth and she gulped brandy, choking at the heat in her throat. Someone thumped her back and she coughed again.

  Rose knelt to look into her face. "You fainted. Are you all right?"

  Andrea took a deep breath. Her heart was hammering and she was light-headed, but mostly she was embarrassed. "I'm okay. I don't know what happened."

  Rose set her palm against Andrea's forehead. "You're not feverish." She glanced over her shoulder at Aura Lee. "Do you think we should call Jerri's office and get her checked over?"

  "I doubt she needs a doctor." Neal squatted in front of Andrea and peered at her. "What can you tell us? Are you sick? Have you been exposed to anything?"

  Andrea shook her head. "I didn't get enough sleep. I drove all night."

  The worry in his eyes dissolved in a glimmer of humor. "So you're dead on your feet and hungry, too?"

  "Don't forget the scotch," added Rose.

  "Brandy on top of it." Neal stood up. "What do you think? Some scones and a nap?" When Rose nodded, he added, "If Aura Lee's scones can't cure what ails you, Andrea, her brownies can. I've been trying to get her to make a batch for two weeks. Haven't I?" he asked the older woman.

  Aura Lee ignored him. She slid onto the chair beside Andrea and clasped her hand tightly. Her face was alight with excitement. "What scared you so much?"

  Andrea stared at her.

  Aura Lee said patiently, "Think, now. Did you see anything... odd? Maybe strange lights, or shining orbs?" Her hand tensed on Andrea's. "Was there an unusual aroma?"

  Andrea glimpsed Rose behind Aura Lee's shoulder. She was gaping at Aura Lee in disbelief. Beside her, Neal Cameron frowned.

  "Did you see a messenger materialize? Is that what frightened you so?" As Andrea drew breath to ask what she meant, Aura Lee's voice faltered. "Did someone mention Cottie to you? Caldicott Wyntham?"

  Andrea blinked, at a total loss.

  Aura Lee waited for an instant, then whispered, "Tell me. Please. Did you intercept a message for me from the Other Side?"

  Chapter 2

  Late-day sun lit the Wisdom Court kitchen windows, and the copper pots on the overhead rack glowed like medallions. Kerry Tomlinson didn't notice. Her green eyes shot sparks as she dumped cartons of Chinese carryout into serving dishes. "It's insane," she snapped. "Aura Lee could have died in that fire. Then she'd have been able to communicate with all the dead people she wants."

  Rose sagged on a barstool at the butcher-block island. Helping clean up the damage to Aura Lee's room had killed the afternoon. Trying to ease her disappointment that Andrea's blackout hadn't been caused by an apparition had required almost as much energy. Now Kerry was on a rant.

  "Andrea drives fifty percent of forever to get here." Kerry scowled over her shoulder at Rose. "She walks into a madhouse, where the inhabitants are reeling over the effects of a summoning spell, for God's sake." She knocked over a carton of steaming broccoli beef onto the countertop. "Shit." Frowning, she shoveled the food onto a plate.

  "She gets dizzy and Aura Lee asks the poor woman if she's just met Caldicott's ghost." Tugging open the door under the sink, she pitched the empty cartons into the wastebasket.

  Rose wished she'd kept her mouth shut. Kerry had the right to be upset over the spells, especially after today's fire. But at Wisdom Court women could think what they liked. Since she'd come to work on Caldicott's biography, Kerry had grown ever more impatient at Aura Lee's fixation with the paranormal.

  Rose pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose. "Aura Lee's trying to deal with Caldicott's death, and that includes the hope that her ghost could be here. It comforts her to believe there might be a way for them to be in contact."

  Kerry pushed the dishes under the heat lamp. "Isn't it unhealthy to encourage that crap, considering how mystical she's getting? And now to involve Andrea! The woman must think this place is an asylum."

  This place is an asylum, Rose thought. Why had she let Caldicott convince her to take over as director? Someone with administrative experience, someone like Noreen, would have been a better choice. Closing her eyes, she took a deep, cleansing breath. The sunlight was warm on her face. She visualized a pool of water, its calm surface spreading through the room, soothing the air.

  "Do you believe in ghosts?" Kerry asked irritably.

  Rose opened her eyes.

  Kerry scrubbed the counter top with such intensity her bobbed auburn hair flipped around her face. "Do you think the soul hangs around like a bad smell," she growled, "waiting for someone to let loose with cosmic air freshener?"

  "Nice imagery," Rose said, trying not to laugh. At Kerry's snort, she straightened on the barstool. "I've seen and felt enough to wonder about ghosts. Do I have any proof they exist? No."

  Kerry took a breath, but Rose pressed on. "The issue isn't what you or I believe, it's what Aura Lee believes. Why are you so bent out of shape over that?"

  The color deepened in Kerry's rounded cheeks. "That kind of bullshit doesn't belong here. I thought Wisdom Court was supposed to be about the pursuit of knowledge and truth."

  Rose felt an unfamiliar gratitude that she was no longer young. "As someone I respect said recently, The strength of Wisdom Court lies in each member's right to tailor her own experience to suit herself."

  Kerry relaxed into a disarming smile. "That's a cheap shot, quoting me to myself. Not to mention saying you respect me. Which, by the way, I consider a major compliment."

  Rose returned her nod. As she slid off the stool her muscles reminded her of all the bending and hauling she'd done that day. "You deserve it. Most of the time." That elicited a mock glower and Rose started for the door. But something was off-center about the way Kerry moved the dishtowel over the counter top, and she hesitated.

  Kerry draped the towel over the oven door handle with care. "I get embarrassed," she muttered. "I mean, when Aura Lee pulls out the tarot cards or offers to read someone's aura, I want to run for cover." Her eyes were puzzled. "I know this place isn't conventional, and I like that. But the women here are too savvy to go along with the otherworldly stuff. So why do we? Why don't we try to talk some sense into her?"

  "Are you volunteering?"

  Misery flashed for an instant across Kerry's face.

  Rose sighed. "Aura Lee came to work for Caldicott at least twenty-five years ago. But she wasn't just hired help for long. She and Caldicott became friends, Kerry. When Aura Lee turned to mysticism during hard times, Caldicott accepted it, tarot cards, crystal-gazing and all."

  Kerry's lips tightened, and Rose could feel her resistance. "I don't believe Caldicott would have lived as long as she did if it hadn't been for Aura Lee's care. But Caldicott gave a lot back and Aura Lee's having trouble getting on with her life without that friendship. Everyone has to make sense of the world as best she can. Aura Lee has her way, you have yours."

  Rose added gently, "And Aura Lee isn't trying to force you to accept hers."

  Kerry lifted her shoulders in a shrug and shot her a wry look. "Of course not, because my truth's the right truth."

  Rose recognized the wavering humor for what it was. "Which truth is that?"

  Kerry laughed, and the tension ebbed. "The truth that dinner's good to go and you have to set the table. Don't forget to add a place for Andrea." She headed out the door.

  As Rose washed her hands the memory of an old peasant she'd met during a trip to Brazil years before strayed into her mind. He'd lost most of his teeth, only the back molars surviving, and his words were indistinct, as if he couldn't quite bite them off from an almost endless stream of sounds. The young have a fever that demands change, but time does its damage and leaves behind a yearning for the familiar, he'd said through the interpreter. Of course, he'd also claimed that a diet heavy on guava juice was the reason for his astonishing number of children. Who knows, she thought, maybe it was.

  As Rose set bright place mats and old fl
atware on the dining room table, she let her mind range over other memories from that long ago trip. She paused, caught by the odd thought that those remnants could be seen as ghosts of her own.

  * * *

  The Wisdom Court dining room evoked an earlier, more gracious age. The beveled mirror in the built-in sideboard reflected candles in a collection of holders at the center of the table. The flames flickered in the conversational currents next to a low majolica urn filled with flowers. Kerry's Chinese entrees were accompanied by two good table wines, white and red. The tradition of Thursday nights at Wisdom Court had started long ago, Andrea was told, with each member in residence taking turns supplying a main course, the others bringing side dishes if they so chose.

  "Even after Caldicott started watching ER we stuck to Thursdays," Aura Lee reminisced. "We'd just record it and watch it after dinner."

  "One of us sets up for the meal, and cleans up afterward. That's my job this week," Rose added from the head of the table. "The idea is to keep from sticking Aura Lee with dinner party work every Thursday. We get to share whatever cooking—or choosing—talents we have. It's the only mandated contact we have with each other."

  Regal in a severe black dress, Noreen nodded. The porcupine hair of the morning had been tamed, bangs smooth across her forehead. "I was the headmistress of a private girls' school. I never had to cook, but I had to eat what was prepared to set a good example. I've had enough balanced, nutritious meals to choke a chestnut. My mission in life is to see that Wisdom Court keeps up with the latest developments at KFC and Pizza Hut."

  Dolores Rivera laughed. The sculptor had arrived in time to meet Andrea before dinner, dramatic in a low-cut crimson dress that deepened her bronze skin and set off long, straight black hair. "Our other associate, Elizabeth Schuster, makes up for Noreen's fast food by testing her recipes on us. But food isn't the point. I heard Thursday dinners began so Caldicott would know what everyone was doing."

  Aura Lee's chopsticks halted halfway to her mouth. "She wasn't nosy. Cottie always said it's easy to turn into a hermit when you're in the middle of a project, and hiding away undercuts good work. I think she must have spent a lot of time alone in her life." As she lifted the broccoli beef to her lips a drop of sauce landed on her gray caftan. The sleeves were banded in silver the same shade as the shadow on her eyelids. She snatched up her napkin and rubbed at the spot, causing her sterling earrings to swing against her neck.

  "What does Elizabeth do?"

  Rose glanced across the table at Andrea, who gave an altogether different impression from the tired, stressed woman who'd arrived that afternoon. Dressed in a peasant skirt and black scooped-neck top, her brown eyes were alive with interest, flicking to each speaker as talk ebbed and flowed. "She's a chef from Louisiana, and her cookbook memoir is almost ready for publication. She went home to see her family this week. They live outside New Orleans."

  Andrea nodded. "Sometimes I feel I've spent my adult life trying to find even a little time to myself. When my daughter was small, I'd have sold my soul for a chance to paint once in a while. Then there was my job..." Her gaze traveled over the faces turned to her. "How can you get anything done if you don't isolate yourself?"

  "Here, here," Kerry murmured. Her green sweater set off her auburn hair and pale skin. "Most people are afraid of being alone, and fill every second with phones, computers, iPods while they run, TV on for background noise." She bit into an egg roll. "Isolation allows you to think, to do your work."

  "No, no, jita, you mean solitude." Dolores refilled her wineglass and passed the bottle to Rose. Her dark eyes were brilliant in the candlelight. "You're alone with yourself so you can create the focus for your work. Isolation is when you cut yourself off from everything and everyone else. The energy, it has no place to flow. It's like flowers without bees... the pollen just sits there."

  Rose topped off her own glass and offered the bottle to Noreen. "I think we get too much cross-pollination, thanks to modern media. You can keep track of nearly everything happening all over the world. There's no judgment as to what you hear, just blah-blah bombardment from morning to night. Isolation doesn't sound bad compared to that."

  "Except here at Wisdom Court, last of the salons." Noreen saluted them with a wave of her chopsticks. "Caldicott started the Thursday night tradition, and we continue it. I'll begin and announce that Reader's Digest has bought my boarding school anecdote for 'Laughter Is the Best Medicine.' It's not a book contract, but it's better than nothing." The others broke into applause, Kerry tapping her wineglass with a chopstick.

  "She's working on a collection," Dolores explained to Andrea. "Folk tales, customs, old sayings and quotations."

  "Noreen's gathering them all from the female point of view," Rose added.

  Noreen nodded with a smile. "The term 'old wives' tale is used unfavorably, especially among some academics, though a lot of folk wisdom fits in that category. So I started keeping a list of those tidbits.

  "Scientific research has begun to validate some of these older scraps of knowledge. An easy example is chicken soup. My mother made a batch every time we got a cold. Now doctors know that chicken broth thins nasal mucous, helping rid the body of germs. Thus the term, 'Jewish penicillin,' from the cultural stereotype of the Jewish mother treating her children with the soup."

  Her eyes kindled with enthusiasm. "Even now, history is written primarily by men. Details of everyday life are neglected for dramatic events–wars, political upheavals, and so on. Men are more represented in quotation books because they were the authors. The historical lives of women have to be found in household ledgers, or recipe books, or in a midwife's medicinal concoctions." Noreen caught herself with a self-deprecating smile. "I didn't mean to lecture. The need for isolation can be a response to the garrulous."

  "No, no, how can you say that? Don't you think she's very informative?" Aura Lee looked to the others in appeal. Reassured by their various signs of agreement, she turned back to Noreen. "Isolation can be useful, though. People are more likely to get messages from the Other Side when they're alone. It's hard to receive them unless you're truly an Adept. If you're on overload, the spirits can't get through." With a sidelong glance at Rose she added in a rush, "I think we ought to consider holding a séance. People have to try to get the communications from Beyond or they can be lost forever."

  Andrea cleared her throat. "You're expecting a message from someone?"

  "The nearest psychiatrist," Kerry grumbled.

  Noreen regarded Aura Lee with interest. "How do you know these things? Are there instructions for the various activities?"

  "Only from charlatans and crackpots." Kerry reached for her glass. "No reputable scientists believe you can communicate with the dead."

  "Oh, pooh," said Aura Lee. "Scientists don't know everything. They're so close-minded."

  Kerry leaned forward to respond but Noreen was already talking. "It's similar to the technicians who listen for signals from outer space at those installations of huge satellite dishes. They complain that the traffic on airwaves obscures distant signals. With people, I suppose the constant clutter of life itself veils the inner voices as well as some of the things going on around them. Maybe, as you say, even signals from the other side."

  Interest lit Dolores's face. "You know, it's funny you put it like that. I was thinking today about making art, what makes you do it. And people ask me where I get my ideas."

  "The idea store," Rose teased and they all laughed.

  Dolores's eyes danced. "Oh, yeah, would I love to find that place. But sometimes, when the work is going well, and the clay moves in my hands, I feel like I'm... touching something outside myself. As if," she went on, focusing on the wine she swirled in her glass, "there's something out there I can tap into once in a blue moon. Sometimes I can almost feel it with me while I work. A presence." She looked around the table at them. "Am I the only one who's noticed that?"

  Kerry shook her head. "They call it 'the flow.' A lot of pe
ople have felt it. And it isn't limited to art. Scientists and poets have written about it, and athletes talk about the same kind of thing." Her glance at Aura Lee held a challenge. "I don't think it does justice to human experience to associate it with some supernatural mumbo-jumbo."

  Aura Lee inhaled sharply and set down her spoon with a click.

  "Maybe it doesn't," Rose said quickly, "but I've felt things I couldn't explain. Presence may be too strong a word, but I've had moments when I've felt a breath of air on my neck or thought I've seen something out of the corner of my eye."

  Kerry grimaced. "They're sensations. The body has hundreds of thousands–of nerve endings. Why wouldn't you detect changes in air temperature or see nuances of light?"

  Noreen nodded. "The question is, what causes those sensations? And there's the issue of why certain people perceive them and others don't, and whether some are sensitive to perceptions too faint to register upon most persons."

  "Like mediums, for instance." Aura Lee's excitement was growing. "People who can direct their sensitivity toward the supernatural."

  Kerry's green eyes darkened. "All you have to do is read a book or two about the spiritualism craze of the nineteenth century to see what a con job that is."

  "What interests me are things the artistic and the spiritual have in common," said Dolores. "Those feelings of connection with something else remind me of church. I have rituals that help me get ready to work, and they have almost a sacred tone to them. When I think about how they're alike, it's hard not to feel I'm communing with something—or someone—outside myself."

  "You're talking about a state of mind, a change in brain wave activity that allows a different kind of energy to be used." Kerry paused to choose her words. "That's one of the most magnificent things about being human, that we're able to think and function in a variety of ways, on different levels."

  "Exactly!" Galvanized by the exchange, Aura Lee leaned forward, draping her sleeve across her plate. "On that we totally agree, Kerry. Human beings are able to do so much they're not even aware of. Simple intuition sharpened into channeling," she added softly. "There are few who can be in touch with what lies beyond our earthly life." She noticed the stain on her sleeve and frowned. "Rats." Dipping her napkin into her water glass, she dabbed at it.