When Ghosts Speak - Mary Ann Winkowski [16]
The woman paused for a moment and I jumped in. “Do you have peacock feathers in your house?”
The woman said that she did.
“Are they in a blue vase?”
The woman said they were.
As she answered each question, a picture formed clearly in my mind. The feathers were in a vase; the vase was on the hearth of a fireplace. Above the fireplace was an unusual family tree made from photos, literally hanging on a branch. Deciding I just had to go with what was happening, I asked the woman about the mantel and the photos.
“How do you know all this?” the woman wanted to know. “It’s a little spooky.”
I didn’t mention that I was finding it a little weird myself. Instead I told her that I thought I needed to come out to her house to see what was going on. We made an appointment, and when I got to the house, sure enough, there was a ghost there, too. From that phone call on, I’ve been able to tell, even from the message on my machine, if there is a spirit in the house of the caller.
At first, I thought I was seeing the environment through the ghost’s eyes. Sometimes I would see a particular part of a room—including any furniture or artwork—as if I were standing right there in the room. Other times, it was as if I were looking through a smudged or foggy window—I could see some details about the room, but I might not be able to tell if there was a mirror or a painting over the fireplace. As I grew more familiar with this new ability, I realized that not only could I see the room, but I could also see the ghost who was there. I learned to sense if the spirit was a man or a woman, and for about how long he or she had been in the house. I can’t speak to the spirits this way, or make them leave, but I can determine, for certain, if there is or isn’t a ghost at any caller’s home.
Since Plan B went into effect, I’ve been able to save miles of driving and hours of false calls, and concentrate on helping those people and spirits who really need me. Since that day, I’ve never looked back. I asked for something, I received it, and I took it to mean that I am supposed to keep doing what I do.
Being a paranormal investigator is now a full-time career for me. I have worked in almost every state, and in many foreign countries. I have six phone lines for my business coming into the house, and I keep messages from callers on yellow-lined legal pads. (I’m up to about eighteen for out-of-state calls and six for local.) I’m constantly on the phone or on the road. I try to prioritize calls. If people need me at a funeral, I’ll return their call within twenty-four hours, if I’m in town. Obviously, I can’t ask the family to hold the body for the three or four months it can take for me to get back to someone calling about a ghost in the house!
I’m well aware of what an odd business I’m in. I walk into strangers’ homes and am often given information that I don’t particularly want—or need—to know. And I’ve become pretty good at knowing what’s important for me to share and what I can just keep to myself.
There was a particularly delicate situation at a house I was visiting in Maine. The well-kept, fairly new ranch home had been suffering from a lot of electrical problems, and the woman and her husband had been arguing more than usual. I knew from speaking to the woman that there was a male ghost in their home who was causing the trouble.
When I arrived, the woman was waiting for me; her husband was home, but outside working on his Jeep. I asked her if she wanted her husband to come inside so he could ask the ghost questions. She immediately got up and shut the door.