The Shape of Night(24)

“Are there ghosts who aren’t benign?”

“It depends on what sort of person he was in real life. Friendly people make friendly ghosts. Since your entity doesn’t seem to frighten you, perhaps that’s all you have. A ghost who’s accepted you into his house. Who may even try to protect you against harm.”

“Then I have nothing to worry about.”

She reaches for her cup of tea and takes a sip. “Probably not.”

I don’t like the sound of that word: probably. I don’t like the possibilities it conjures up. “Is there something I should be worried about?”

“There are other entities that can attach themselves to a house. Sometimes they’re attracted by negative energy. Poltergeists, for instance, seem to show up in households where adolescent children live. Or where families are in emotional turmoil.”

“I live alone.”

“Are you dealing with any personal crises at the moment?”

Where do I begin? I could tell her I’ve spent the last eight months paralyzed by guilt. I could tell her that I fled Boston because I cannot bear to face up to the past. But I tell her none of this and say simply: “I’m trying to finish writing a book. It’s almost a year overdue and my editor keeps bugging me about it. So yes, I’m under some stress right now.” She studies me, her gaze so intent that I’m compelled to look away as I ask, “If it is a poltergeist, how would I know?”

“Their presentation can be quite physical. Objects move or levitate. Dishes fly, doors slam shut. There can even be violence.”

My head lifts. “Violence?”

“But you haven’t experienced that. Have you?”

I hesitate. “No.”

    Does she believe me? Her silence implies doubt, but after a moment, she simply moves on. “I’ll do some background research on your house, see if there’s any relevant history that will explain a haunting. Then we can decide if an amelioration is in order.”

“Amelioration? You mean—get rid of it?”

“There are ways to make the phenomena cease. Are these events happening every day?”

“No.”

“When was the last time?”

I look down at my teacup. “It’s been three nights.” Three nights of lying awake, waiting for the captain to reappear. Wondering if I merely imagined him.

Worrying that I will never see him again.

“I don’t want to drive him away,” I tell her. “I just wanted reassurance that what I’ve experienced is real.”

“So you’re willing to tolerate his presence?”

“What else can I do?”

“You can ask him to leave.”

“It’s that simple?”

“Sometimes that’s all it takes. I’ve had clients who demanded their ghost vacate the house and move on. And that’s it, problem solved. If that’s what you want to do, I can help you.”

I say nothing for a moment, thinking about how it would feel to never again glimpse him in the shadows. To never again sense his presence watching over me. Protecting me. Under my roof, no harm will come to you.

“Are you willing to live with this entity?” she asks.

I nod. “Strangely enough, I feel safer knowing he’s there.”

“Then doing nothing is a reasonable choice. In the meantime, I’ll search for any information about Brodie’s Watch. The Maine State Library in Augusta has newspaper archives going back hundreds of years, and I have a friend who works there.”

“What will you be searching for?”

    “Any tragic events that occurred in the house. Deaths, suicides, murders. Reports of any paranormal activity.”

“I already know of one tragedy that happened in the house. My carpenter told me about it. He said it happened twenty or so years ago, on a Halloween night. Some teenagers broke into the house, got drunk and rowdy. One of the girls fell from the widow’s walk and died.”

“So there has been a death.”

“But it was just an accident. It’s the only tragedy I know of.”

Her gaze drifts to the kitchen window, where multicolored crystals dangle. Quietly she says, “If there were others, that would make me wonder.”

“About what?”

She looks at me. “If your problem is actually a ghost.”



* * *



—

It is already late afternoon when I start my drive back to Tucker Cove. Along the way I stop at a diner to eat dinner and to mull over what Maeve told me: I can help you. There are ways to make the phenomena cease. Ways to make Captain Brodie vanish forever. But that’s not what I want; I knew that even before I spoke with her. What I wanted was simply to be believed. I wanted to know that what I saw and felt in Brodie’s Watch was real. No, I’m not afraid of Captain Brodie’s ghost.

What terrifies me is the possibility that he doesn’t exist and I’m going insane.

As I wait for my order of fried chicken, I scroll through the messages on my phone. I had muted it during my meeting with Maeve and now I see several new voice mails. The first is from my editor, Simon, who’s called again about the status of my overdue manuscript. The chapters you’ve sent me are terrific! When can I see more? Also, we need to talk about a new release date.