The Haunted - Jessica Verday [4]
She hugged me back and rested her chin on top of my head. “You’re welcome to come and watch Murder, She Wrote with me anytime, Abbey. I’ll get the other episodes on DVD.” I closed my eyes and enjoyed the simple comfort of her embrace. We sat there in silence for a few minutes before I started to pull away. “I guess I need to go call Dad. Let him know about my decision.”
She stood too. “I’m off to the kitchen. Dinner should be ready soon.” I followed her into the house and inhaled deeply. The aroma of fried chicken hung in the air, and I spotted two striped cardboard buckets sitting on the table.
“Is the chicken from Frankie’s Restaurant?”
“Yup. It’ll be ready in about ten minutes.”
Aunt Marjorie never cooked. She had told me once that she preferred to let the professionals do their jobs, and she’d be glad to pay them handsomely for it. I hurried up the stairs and went to my room. I found the phone in the covers and flipped it open. There was one missed call from Dr. Pendleton. I ignored it and pushed the button to call home. Dad picked up on the third ring.
“Hi, sweetie. I thought we weren’t going to talk until tomorrow. What’s up?” I was so relieved to hear his voice instead of Mom’s that I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.
“Hey, Dad. I just wanted to let you know that I thought about what you said and… I’m ready. I’m ready to come home.”
“Are you sure? Don’t you want to sleep on it? You don’t have to make your decision right now, you know.” Now he sounded unsure. “I don’t want you to regret this, Abbey. Why don’t you call me tomorrow and we’ll discuss it some more.”
“No, Dad.” I said. “My mind is made up. Can you guys come pick me up tomorrow?” The last thing I needed was time to reconsider.
“I guess. Then you’ll have a day or two to get settled before the ceremony. I’ll go tell your mother.”
I hung up the phone and heaved a frustrated sigh. First he was trying to talk me into going back, and now he almost sounded like he was trying to talk me out of it? I didn’t get it.
But at least the decision was made now.
I was going back.
Music seemed to be nudging me awake. Soft and faint, bare wisps of song floated along, and I could barely make them out. I thought I was dreaming.
I lay very still and opened my eyes wide. I don’t know why I thought not blinking would help me hear better, but it seemed to make some sort of sense as I held my breath in that hushed darkness.
There it is again.
It was old-fashioned sounding, like something that would play during an epic love scene of a black-and-white movie. Silvery strains slipped through the crack under my door, and I waited in anticipation. It was lovely and haunting.
But still too faint.
I threw back the covers, slid my feet to the floor, and tiptoed over to the door. Maybe I can hear it better this way. With one hand on the knob I turned it gently, easing the door open.
I followed the sound until it stopped. There was a pause, a shift, and the music changed to a Cat Power song. Her voice ached with longing and sadness. I closed my eyes, overcome by emotions the song evoked.
A soft clinking of glass interrupted the moment, and I found myself moving forward again, peeking through the sliver of opened door into Aunt Marjorie’s room. It was open far enough that I could see in without having to press my face close, but not wide enough for her to see me if she should happen to glance over.
Aunt Marjorie was standing in front of a vanity, pouring a drink from a glass bottle. The amber liquid splashed into the bottom of a tumbler, barely filling it half an inch. Then she picked it up and toasted a large picture frame of Uncle Gerald that hung over the vanity mirror. An instant later she tipped her head to one side and put the glass back down. A low murmur and a giggle escaped her, and she put her arms up like she was getting ready to waltz with someone.
Cat’s voice soared, and the words “Oh, oh, I do believe