Deception by Lee Nichols Page B

breath.
    “Emma?”
    “I know,” I said, and kept walking. “I’m going to tell you.”
    “Good.”
    “Here goes.” I paused in the middle of a row of dying roses. “Okay.”
    “Okay?”
    “I see ghosts!” I blurted.
    He nodded. “Yeah, you told me.”
    Not the reaction I’d expected. “No I didn’t. When?”
    “ ‘You see things,’ ” he said, in a bored tone. “ ‘Imaginary things, visions.’ ”
    Okay, yeah I’d said that, but I hadn’t expected him to believe me. “No, I really see ghosts. I mean, the spirits of the dead. Walking around in period costume.” I took a shuddering breath. “I thought I was going insane, I was so afraid, and I … I can’t believe this, but knowing they’re ghosts is a relief . Because I’m not crazy. I really see them.”
    He eyed me speculatively. “Uh-huh, you really see them. Anything else?”
    “You want more ?”
    “I want everything,” he said.
    We turned at the end of the row, toward the brilliant stand of red sumac. “Fine,” I said, “strap on your straitjacket.” And I told him about the ashes and the death mask. “And since I came to Echo Point, I’m seeing them more and more. And I’m … I don’t know, reliving the memories of a previous life.”
    He frowned at the last part. “Hmm.”
    “ Hmm? That’s all I get?” Could he act normal for once? Why wasn’t he trying to calm me down or offering to get help? One of us needed to be rational here and it certainly wasn’t going to be me.
    “Well, I don’t understand the shadows and the ashes. That’s not possible, but I suppose you’re still learning how to — ”
    I couldn’t take any more. I screamed, “Stop it! I see ghosts , Bennett! Stop humoring me.”
    “You really don’t know, do you?” There was an incredulous expression on his face. “I can’t believe they didn’t tell you. I thought you were playing games, pretending you didn’t know, keeping secrets from me and — ”
    “What? What is it that you think I’m supposed to know?”
    “Emma, I’m sorry.” He put his hand on my arm. “Let’s start at the beginning. Why do you think you’re seeing ghosts?”
    “Because the house is haunted?”
    “Mm. And are you afraid of them?”
    “Uh, yeah . They’re ghosts.”
    “How afraid?”
    “Well, terrified that I’m losing my mind. But the actual ghosts? The man in the brown suit, the servants … no. Not scary, actually.” I turned that over in my mind. “How can I not be afraid of ghosts? They’re all haunty and ghoulish, right? And Bennett, why are you taking this seriously?”
    “You’re a ghostkeeper, Emma.”
    “Yeah, well, you’re a jackass.”
    He surprised me with a laugh. “No, I’m serious. You’re a ghostkeeper.”
    “Not funny. I need your help. I can’t concentrate at school, I’m having flashbacks. I don’t want to go back to the poof.”
    “The poof?”
    We walked to a bench beside an arbor and sat silently for a time. Then I told him about being committed to a mental institution. I told him about the stuffed elephant and the lime Popsicles. And the heavy sluggishness in my mind, seeing the world through a dirty film, all the color and brightness faded.
    “Oh, Emma,” he said, his voice so appalled that I felt myself suddenly blinking back tears. “How could they do that to you?”
    I shrugged. “They didn’t know. They were afraid I’d hurt myself.” I absently rubbed the scar the man with the knife had given me.
    “No, something isn’t right — we’re missing a piece.”
    Martha stepped from the rose garden, carrying a tray of sandwiches and iced tea. I felt suddenly shy, falling silent as she arranged the food beside us. Bennett seemed to understand, and he just smiled and thanked her.
    “Sometimes,” she murmured to Bennett, “we just need to know that we’re not alone.”
    I glanced at Bennett after she left. “What did that mean?”
    “She wants me to tell you about me.”
    “What about you?”
    “I see