The Visitor(24)

“Rose?”

“She was the last person laid to rest in Kroll Cemetery. Perhaps you could give her grave a little extra care if you accept the commission. She was someone very special to us.” Nelda leaned heavily on her cane, her dark gaze rapt as she studied my features.

“Of course,” I said, disconcerted by the intense inspection.

“Forgive me for staring...the resemblance is just so startling.”

My attention sharpened. “Resemblance?”

“Did you not notice how Louvenia and I were both gawking at you earlier? I could hardly believe my eyes when Dr. Shaw pointed you out to us.”

“I don’t understand. I look like someone you know...or knew?”

“You are the spitting image of Rose, Miss Gray. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she had somehow managed to return from the grave. I expect that’s why I find it so easy to talk to you. It’s like having her back after all these years.”

“How...interesting.” It was difficult to keep my voice even when my pulse had jumped so erratically at her revelation.

“I was quite overcome when I first saw you,” Nelda said. “But now that I’ve had time to ponder the situation, I think you must somehow be related to her. You even share the same last name.”

“She was a Gray?”

“By marriage, I think. Do you have people in the Isola area?”

“Not that I’m aware of, but I know very little about my family. I suppose it could be just one of those odd coincidences. Gray is a common last name.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Nelda mused. “Things happen for a reason, I always say. Dr. Shaw bringing us out here to meet you... Rose moving to Isola just when Mott and I needed her the most...”

Mott.

At the mention of that strange name, it was as if a dark cloud had moved over the sun. A shadow fell across the landscape and I heard the eerie rattle of a cicada somewhere nearby.

Rustling leaves drew my attention to one of the live oaks that had been planted around the edge of the cemetery. The drooping limbs provided easy access over the wall, and for a moment, I thought someone might be up there hidden by the foliage.

A flock of blackbirds took flight, and I lifted my gaze to the cloudless sky, concentrating so intently on those flapping wings that I almost missed the stealthy shadow near the wall. A distorted form that faded so well into the gloom I wondered if my dazzled vision had played a trick on me.

But no. Something was definitely there.

The form was humanlike, female and tiny—little more than four feet tall I would guess—with a pronounced hump on her back. Not a ghost, not a shadow being, she was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.

My nerve endings bristled a warning. Here was yet another danger, another fear. The veil had parted, allowing something else to slip through.

The rules kept you safe, Papa had once told me. But you broke them and now that the door has been opened, you’re vulnerable.

To all manner of entities, it seemed.

The silhouette moved slowly, using the shadows so effectively I had trouble tracking her. She was childlike in stature, but her features were wizened and not quite of this world. As I peered through the deep shade, she turned and looked directly at me as if to acknowledge my notice. The sensation was so creepy and invasive I took a step back, my heart flailing.

As I stood there enthralled, she threw back her head and opened her mouth wide as if to call to someone—or to something—unseen. But the sound that sprang from her throat was more insect than human. Like the rattle of a cicada, plaintive and chilling.





Thirteen

Several moments passed and still I couldn’t tear my attention from the wall, even though the silhouette had disappeared into the deeper shadows.

Nelda Toombs was still chatting away beside me, oblivious to anything amiss. But suddenly it came to me that the smock-like jacket she wore over her dress not only covered her shriveled body, but also disguised what most would assume was a dowager’s hump on her back.

One of the twins died. The other was so distraught that she tried to hide her sister’s passing by using cloves to cover up the smell.

Even as Dr. Shaw’s words came back to me, even as I turned to once again search the shadows, I reminded myself that sometimes the things I saw and heard and smelled really were products of my imagination. The sun had clouded my eyes and the shadowy form had been fleeting. Woods surrounded the cemetery. Wasn’t it possible that I’d heard an actual cicada?

But what of that insect husk on my nightstand? What of that face in the stereogram, the voices in my head?

Logic wasn’t going to work. I knew what I knew.

“Are you all right?” Nelda asked in concern. “You look quite pale all of a sudden.”

“I’m...still shaky from the fall, I guess. It was a little more serious than I let on to Dr. Shaw. In fact, I was just released from the hospital this morning.”

“Bless your heart. I don’t wonder you’re shaky. Perhaps you should be home resting.”

I managed a faint smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m enjoying our conversation. And I must say, I’m very curious about the woman you say I look so much like.”

Nelda’s expression turned wistful. “Rose was everything to us. Our protector and champion and the closest thing to a mother that Mott and I ever knew.”