Ghostlight (19 page)

The drive home was pretty quiet, which gave me time to think through Mrs. Shelton's story. A crazy plan was taking shape in my head, but I waited until we'd started up the hill toward the house before I spoke.

“Grandma, would it be okay if Blake and I visited with Julian? You could just drop us off.”

Grandma didn't answer until she'd parked the car in front of Hollyhock Cottage. She looked from Blake to me. “Promise not to go anywhere near Hilliard House without telling me first. I know there's no use trying to keep you away from it now, but I want to be with you when you…do whatever it is you're going to do. I need a solemn promise from each of you.”

I turned to Blake, and we spoke at the same time. “We promise.”

“All right, then. Will you be back for lunch?”

Grandma had never asked that before. It had always been a command, not a question.

“I'm not sure,” I said. “Can we call you after we've talked to Julian?”

“That'll be fine.”

Blake followed as I stepped up to the front door of the cottage. He grabbed my arm on the top step, raising his eyebrows at the faint sounds of guitar strumming coming from the living room. I shook him off and raised my hand to knock, but the door opened on its own and Julian peered out.

“I saw you from my window.”

He was wearing another funky T-shirt, but this one had words on it rather than a cartoon—big white letters that jumped out at you from a black background.

“ ‘Shoot Films Not People,' ” I read aloud. “That's pretty cool. A little creepy, but definitely cool.”

Julian leaned against the doorframe. “What do you want, Avery?”

“Um, can we come in?”

“Depends. Are you here to tear my head off? I know Dad ratted us out to your grandmother.”

“It's way more complicated than that, Julian. And, yeah, I'm still mad at you, but I'm also sorry, and I need your help.” I glanced at Blake. “
We
need your help.”

Julian's eyes widened. “You'd better come in, then.”

Blake craned his neck toward the living room, but Curtis Wayne didn't even look up from his guitar as we made our way to the stairs. At least his tune sounded a little happier this time.

“Whoa,” Blake said at first sight of all the machinery, surge protectors, and snaking power cords in Julian's room. “It's totally what I expected—the lair of an evil genius.”

“An evil filmmaking genius.” Julian's mouth was a thin line, but his eyes had a little grin to them.

Blake nodded. “I can respect that.”

“Okay,” I said quickly. “I have something to say to you, Julian.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I'm sorry I said you were crazy and all.” I crossed my arms. Then I uncrossed them because it seemed weird. “I was out of line, and I didn't really mean it. I was super upset that night.”

Julian sank into his leather chair. “Okay…I'm sorry that I scared you so bad you peed your pants.”

“Julian!”

“But it was such a good scene—do you want to see it? I've edited it all together.” He looked from me to Blake, and his face crumpled a little. “I really am sorry, Avery.”

It wasn't quite the heartfelt apology I'd hoped for, but it would have to do for now, especially since Lily had just walked in. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and I couldn't help noticing that she'd lost a little of her glam. I mean, she was still gorgeous, but she'd ditched the sparkle for a plain white T-shirt and track shorts. Her wild, curly hair was pulled tightly back.

She took one long look at Blake and froze in place.

I sat on the edge of Julian's bed. “I came here to say you were right. There
is
a ghost at Hilliard House—but it's not Margaret Anne.”

Julian blinked. “Really?”

“Blake and I are pretty sure we know what's going on. We also know why the ghost is angry.” I held out my hand to Lily. “Come sit with me and I'll tell you all about it.”

Lily looked from me to Julian and back again. A smile spread across her face and she crossed the room to curl up next to me. Once she was still, I explained our Internet research on ghosts. Then I shared Aileen Shelton's story of what really happened to Margaret Anne.

“Wow,” Julian said. “So her death had nothing to do with the flood or Mr. Hilliard?”

I shook my head. “If you hadn't pushed me into making a ghost movie, and if you and Lily hadn't tricked me, we never would have learned how Joshua Hilliard had been wronged all these years. And now maybe I have a chance to fix it so that people can live in that house again.”

Lily looked up at me. “How?”

“That presence in the house needs to hear the truth from Aileen Shelton.”

“But she can't leave her bed, Avery,” Blake said.

“She doesn't have to.”

He frowned. “I don't get it.”

“I have an idea, but it's going to take some time to work it out. I need your trust on this, Blake. Are you with me?”

After a moment he nodded.

“I'll need help from all of you.” I turned to Julian. “Especially you.”

Julian straightened in his chair. “Maybe Lily could scrounge up something for us to eat while we work. There's some peanut butter and crackers in the pantry.”

Lily looked from him to me. “Avery, you want to come with me?”

“I can't right now. But I bet Blake would be glad to help after he calls Grandma.”

Blake swept the hair out of his eyes and glared at me. But when he caught Lily watching him, his frown softened. “No problem.”

“Thanks. I have to check with Julian on some stuff, but I promise I'll explain everything when you guys get back with the food. We just
have
to get this ready to go by tomorrow.”

“Then we'd better get cracking,” Julian said.

On an ordinary Sunday, church seemed to last forever, but I figured it'd feel like two forevers that morning. Brother Wilson didn't help matters with his long-winded announcements. Eventually he reached for the prayer box, which was the last step before the sermon. Every week members of the congregation stuffed that box with prayer requests for sick loved ones, upcoming surgeries, traveling mercies, and other such things. Grandma never contributed—at least not when Blake and I came to church with her. Whether that had to do with pride or privacy, I wasn't sure. I figured if she was going to ask for prayers, it would be for her daughter's soul, but if she did that, it would be like admitting her own failure. So she kept those thoughts to herself.

That morning, however, her name came up first.

“Mrs. Hilliard asks that everyone please pray for Joshua Hilliard, her husband's cousin who's been dead for thirty years.”

I could feel every head in church turning to stare at Grandma. She took a handkerchief out of her pocketbook and dabbed at her eyes.

Brother Wilson read the piece of paper in silence. Then he glanced at Grandma, who nodded firmly. He raised his chin. “Folks, this is a long one, and it's probably best I read it word for word, just as Mrs. Hilliard wrote it.”

He cleared his throat.

“ ‘For many years, I was convinced that Mr. Hilliard was a man with a dark soul. A man who lost his child through neglect and thereafter drove his wife to an early grave. I didn't even know him until long after his daughter and wife died, but I confess to having judged him and even indulged in gossip about him, both when he was alive and after he passed. Yesterday I learned the truth about Joshua Hilliard. He had nothing to do with his daughter's death. He was, in fact, a loving father. But because certain people held silent, he was judged harshly and incorrectly by the entire community. I only learned this because of research conducted by my grandchildren.' ”

Grandma placed a hand on each of our shoulders, and I felt several pairs of eyes settling on me.

Brother Wilson folded the paper and looked upon the congregation. “Mrs. Hilliard concludes her request by asking us to pray not only for Joshua Hilliard, but also for her and for all those who judge without having all the facts.”

After that I barely heard the other prayer requests, my head and heart were so full of Grandma's words. Just when I was pretty sure I had her all figured out, she pulled a stunt like this—and even though she didn't speak the words, they rang out with her brand of truth. You'd think a grandma's job was to be steady and predictable, but she'd been surprising me all summer. I was tempted to give her a powerful squeeze in front of the entire congregation, but I knew such a public display would only embarrass the heck out of her.

“That was hard-core,” Blake said as we climbed into the car afterward.

“The only way it could have been better,” I said, “is if Grandma had actually stood up and spoken herself. Brother Wilson would have freaked!”

Grandma glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You know I would never do that, Avery May.”

I swallowed. “Sorry, ma'am.”

Grandma put her key in the ignition but paused before starting the car. “Your mother broke from the church because she felt oppressed by our traditions, but I want you two to know that all the women of Sycamore Road Church of Christ are strong and opinionated. We follow scripture by choice. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Blake and I said together.

Grandma offered no further comment on the matter and held quiet on the drive home. Once we'd changed out of our church clothes, she handed me the cordless phone to call Julian. He and Lily were at the door in less than ten minutes.

Grandma shook her head at the sight of Lily in her bejeweled cap and flip-flops. “Isn't she a bit young for…what we're doing today?”

“But I've already been in the house lots of times,” Lily said.

Julian laid a hand on her shoulder. “Mrs. Hilliard's right, Lil. You can walk with us, but I want you to wait outside once we get to the house.”

“Jules!”

I shot a desperate look at Blake.

“I'll wait outside with you, Lily,” he said quickly.

A slow smile spread across her face. “Okay, then.”

Grandma drove to the house. The rest of us walked, and I was happy to let Blake take the lead. Nobody spoke at first. I guess we were all trying to imagine exactly what we'd find inside Hilliard House. My heart thumped with the knowledge that we
finally
were doing the right thing, but at the same time dread pitted in my belly. We were about to walk into the house of a suffering spirit. An angry spirit.

“You know,” I said to Julian, “once we're in the house, it's probably best not to stand too long under a light fixture or in a doorway. Best to just march straight to the parlor, and that way there won't be time for any funny business.”

“I have my camera in this backpack,” he said. “Maybe I could get a real ghost on film.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Julian, you can't.”

“Why not?”

“It's not why we're doing this. You'd be taking advantage.”

“It could be
historic.
”

I glared at him. “Will you ever
learn
?”

Ahead of us, Blake turned around. “What's the holdup, Avery?”

“You and Lily go ahead,” I said. “We'll catch up in a second. I just need to work through a few details with Julian.”

I tried to send a powerful psychic message to Blake.
It's okay. Just go on.
Not sure he got it, though, because his annoyed expression didn't soften. But after a moment he nodded at Lily and they continued on.

I turned back to Julian.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, you're right. I'd probably make the ghost mad if I tried to get it on film. I got a little carried away, I guess…”

“Seems like you get carried away a lot.”

He looked away without answering.

“Julian, what did your mom do that scared you so bad?”

He turned back to me, eyes wide. After a moment he shook his head. “Dad has a big mouth.”

I held his gaze, waiting.

He sighed. “I'll tell you while we walk, but let's hang back a little. Lily doesn't know much about my mother, and I'd rather keep it that way for now.”

I'd sprung that question on him out of the blue, and in a different situation I might have given him a moment to pull himself together. But we didn't have far to go before we reached Hilliard House, so I gently bumped his arm as we walked. “Well?”

“I don't remember much,” he said, “but I guess when I was about five my mother came to my room in the middle of the night, and she, um…”

“She what?”

“She tried to smother me.”

My scalp prickled. “Seriously?”

“I told you she was sick. Still
is
sick. Anyway, Dad had been out of town for a while, but he was there that night, sleeping on the couch. He must have heard the struggle. He says he took me to the bathroom and locked the door. Then he called the police.”

“But why would she do that?”

“She said she was following God's command.”

“What?”

“She said God spoke to her directly, and in her mind he'd given me the fast pass to Heaven.”

I shook my head. “I'd never be able to sleep again after that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, my therapist says I fixate on fear and scary movies as a coping mechanism.”

“Wait, are you saying you scare
other
people in order to make yourself feel better?”

“Strange, huh? I guess it's a control thing—if I'm the one who finds or creates the scary thing, it can't hurt me.” He frowned. “But I never go into it thinking ‘I want to scare someone.' ”

“Did you scare somebody at school? Did you
bully
someone?”

“What?
No.
”

“But you got in trouble, didn't you? Don't give me that look—your dad was trying to explain to Grandma why you tricked me at Hilliard House. That's the only reason I know you got in trouble.”

“It's not what you think, but it's kind of hard to explain.” He sighed. “When you're at school, do you ever feel like you're in a horror film?”

“Huh…I never actually thought of it that way.”

“After I took that summer class on filmmaking, I started filming at school because there was so much drama there. You know, kids arguing at their lockers. Teachers bellowing down the hall. One day I saw this boy getting bullied in the lunchroom. I knew him a little—he was one of those kids who's small for his age and makes up for it with a smart mouth. Some bigger guys surrounded him, and one of them stood so the teachers couldn't really see. They were thumping his head and pushing his face into his mashed potatoes. I watched the whole thing through the camera on my tablet.”

I shook my head. “You were filming it?”

“When I got home and watched the footage that night, it was…powerful. When that boy sat there with mashed potatoes on his face, crying, it was pure, raw emotion. I made some edits, gave it a title, and posted it to the school's Facebook page.”

“For real?”

He nodded. “It was
important.
I was shining a light on a problem in our school, right? I wanted that kid to know that he shouldn't let stupid bullies have that kind of power over him. But the kid's parents didn't see it that way and raised a big stink. The principal went ballistic. And I got suspended.”

It took a minute for all that to soak in.

“Are you back to thinking I'm crazy?” he asked.

I really just wanted to push
his
face in a plate of mashed potatoes to smash some sense into him. Instead I made myself think through my words. “You talk about the risks an artist has to take, but will you do me a favor? Next time you're about to take a risk for a film, ask yourself if it would hurt someone else.”

He grimaced. “You sound like my therapist.”

“I just don't want you to get in trouble anymore. I mean, we might have more movies to make together.”

He ducked his head, so I couldn't be sure how he felt about that suggestion.

“Come on.” I tried to make my tone light. “We should catch up with Blake and Lily.”