Nine Lives (Lily Dale Mystery #1)(28)

As if to second the thought, Chance meows loudly, pacing restlessly along the grassy edge of the pier, staring out at the water.

“Like I said, it’s safe.”

“Except that there are pirates roaming around at night.” Bella shakes her head, not daring to voice the terrible possibility flitting in her brain like the butterfly refusing to alight on a ruffly petunia. “What do you think that was all about?”

“I’m concerned. I thought it was about Chance the Cat.”

At the sound of her name, the cat stops pacing and turns toward them with an expectant meow. Odelia bends and extends her hand. The cat comes over, nuzzling her face against Odelia’s fingers and rubbing against her legs.

“You thought what was about Chance?” Bella asks, confused. “The pirate?”

“Leona’s restlessness. I’ve been aware of it ever since she passed on, but I thought she was upset about the cat going missing. The disquiet should have subsided last night when you brought her back home, but it seems even stronger. And every time I look at that spot . . .”

Bella follows her gaze toward the pier and the placid waters beyond.

Somewhere, bells are tinkling, clanging . . .

She turns toward the wind chimes in the tree. They dangle motionlessly from the branch—not a hint of breeze to stir the silvery tubes or even rustle the leaves above.

“Do you hear that?” she asks Odelia.

“Hear what?”

Poised, Bella listens.

The chiming seems to have stopped abruptly. The only sound is the hum of a distant lawnmower and the faint splashing of kids in the lake. Then a screen door creaks and slams: Max and Jiffy heading into Odelia’s house next door. They’ll be back momentarily.

She frowns. “I don’t know . . . I guess I was hearing things.”

“It happens.”

Unsettled by Odelia’s knowing expression—along with everything else—Bella gets the conversation back on track. “What do you mean about Leona? About her being restless. Do you mean her ghost?”

“I prefer Spirit, but yes. Her energy is troubled. Some people are fretful in life, but that wasn’t Leona. She was laid back during her time on this plane, but not where she is now. With her cat home safely and her guesthouse in good hands, I’d expect her to find peace.”

“Can you ask her what’s bothering her?”

Odelia offers a faint smile. “It doesn’t quite work like that. It’s not like picking up a phone and placing a call to whomever we want to speak to.”

“How does it work, then?” she asks, thinking not just of Leona but of Sam. “I mean, when you contact the dead . . . or they contact you.”

“That depends on the situation. We all have our own unique process. If you’re interested in learning more about Spiritualism, there’s a seminar tomor—”

“No, that’s all right,” she says quickly. “I was just wondering about Leona. Is she . . . here with us right now?”

“I don’t feel her energy at the moment.”

“When you do feel her, or when you did feel her, how did you know she was restless?”

“Because she allows me to feel what she feels. I receive her energy. That’s what mediums do.”

“Can you talk to them, then? To, you know . . .”

“Spirit.”

“Right. To Spirit.” The singular tense feels odd on her tongue. “Can they . . . can it—Spirit—tell you things?”

“Yes. Sometimes we hear directly from the soul in question. Sometimes we receive messages through our guides.”

“Your spirit guides.” Bella recalls her mentioning them last night. “Who are they, exactly? What are they?”

“They’re highly evolved entities who offer enlightenment and protection.”

“Is Leona a spirit guide, then?”

“Oh, no! At least not yet, and certainly not to me,” Odelia explains—sort of.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I believe our guides exist on a higher realm, and they’re assigned to each of us before we’re born. Their job is to see us through our earthly mission. Some of my guides never even existed in a physical form, and others did, though not necessarily human form, and certainly not in my lifetime.”

Bella is trying to understand, really she is. But there’s a lot to grasp here, and she feels like Max, with his incessant questions. “What do you mean, not human form?”

“One of my guides is a great white hawk. Another is a Native American maiden. She tells me I was her husband in another lifetime.”

Okay, so now we’re talking about reincarnation. Perfect. Next thing you know, she’ll be telling me about dragons and time travel.

“You were a man?”

“According to my past-life regression, I’ve been a man, a woman, and a number of different creatures.”

Right. Here come the dragons.

“How many . . . past lives have you had?”

“Eight that I know about so far. It’s fascinating stuff. Some of it makes perfect sense. I’ve always been an astronomy buff, and I recently found out that I was once part of Pickering’s Harem. I don’t suppose you know what that is?”

“I do, actually.” As a middle school science teacher, she’s created entire lesson plans based on the group of women who collected astronomical data for the famous nineteenth-century physicist Edward Charles Pickering.