homey flavor on her tongue. “It’s not that I dislike apple pie, I just never think of having it. Guess it’s because we never had it much while I was growing up. This, however, is quite tasty.” She took a sip of coffee between bites. “Funny thing—this morning, when I was at the grocery store, I got the most intense craving for it.” She laughed. “So much so, I’m surprised I didn’t stop the car and dig into it on the side of the road like some junkie.”
The words startled her father. He stopped eating. “This morning? You got the craving for apple pie this morning?”
“Actually, the craving started last night during that silly séance. It was quiet, just the leader speaking, and suddenly I could smell apple pie or at least cinnamon.” Again she shrugged. “It was probably one of the candles they were burning. Some candles smell good enough to eat.”
“Honey, how did Julian come up?”
“Julian, California?” A bit of pie escaped from her fork and landed on her blouse. Emma dabbed at it while she thought about Julian. “It was something Milo said to me.”
“Milo?” Paul’s graying eyebrows raised like two caterpillars snapping to attention. Milo wasn’t a common name, but it was one he’d come across before.
“Yes, Milo, the leader of the séance. He said someone, a spirit, wanted very much to talk to me. Said it was important.” She glanced at her father. “How silly is that? Tracy was almost green with envy since no ghosts were speaking with her. Just me and two other folks had that dubious honor.” Emma’s tone was filled with amusement. “Milo asked me if I had family in Julian. Said the spirit was a woman from there.”
“Did he say anything more about the woman? Any details? A name?” Paul tried to hold himself back. He didn’t want his daughter to sense how concerned he was, at least not yet.
“Just a woman who’d been hung for murdering her husband.”
Emma looked over at her father. He was sitting on the edge of his patio chair, watching her as if she were a child ready to take a nasty spill.
“You don’t believe this malarkey, do you, Dad?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “For cripes sake, you’re a doctor—a scientist.”
Paul took a big drink of his coffee. “As a doctor, I studied science, Emma. But during my years as a doctor, I witnessed many astonishing things. Unexplainable things. Things having to do with death and dying, and things that happen when people die. Theidea that spirits of the dead, or ghosts, are among us and are trying to communicate with us is a fascinating one, is it not?”
Emma gave it some thought. “Yes, it is, in theory. But I’m not so sure it’s real. Last night, except for me, the other two people Milo said had…well, visitors, is how he put it…were desperately looking for that contact. They attended the séance hoping, even praying, that someone they loved would speak to them from the grave. It would have been easy for them to grasp at any straw.”
“But what about you?”
“What about me?” Emma fidgeted in her seat. “I went to keep Tracy company. For me, it was an evening with a friend, nothing more. Maybe Milo was trying to make a believer out of me, to rope me into his scam. Considering it was fifty-five dollars a head last night, it really is quite a scam.”
“Are you sure that’s the only reason you went?”
Her father had a knack for digging with questions like some folks worked with shovels. Emma always thought he should have been a psychiatrist instead of a surgeon. When she looked away without responding, he continued.
“Emma, I know things have been very unsettling since you and Grant split up. Your child is about to move away from home. You don’t have a career or real purpose in life, and you’re floundering a bit. Maybe, in some way, you went along with Tracy to look for answers, perhaps even a focus to your life.”
This time, Emma looked directly at her father. “Really,
The words startled her father. He stopped eating. “This morning? You got the craving for apple pie this morning?”
“Actually, the craving started last night during that silly séance. It was quiet, just the leader speaking, and suddenly I could smell apple pie or at least cinnamon.” Again she shrugged. “It was probably one of the candles they were burning. Some candles smell good enough to eat.”
“Honey, how did Julian come up?”
“Julian, California?” A bit of pie escaped from her fork and landed on her blouse. Emma dabbed at it while she thought about Julian. “It was something Milo said to me.”
“Milo?” Paul’s graying eyebrows raised like two caterpillars snapping to attention. Milo wasn’t a common name, but it was one he’d come across before.
“Yes, Milo, the leader of the séance. He said someone, a spirit, wanted very much to talk to me. Said it was important.” She glanced at her father. “How silly is that? Tracy was almost green with envy since no ghosts were speaking with her. Just me and two other folks had that dubious honor.” Emma’s tone was filled with amusement. “Milo asked me if I had family in Julian. Said the spirit was a woman from there.”
“Did he say anything more about the woman? Any details? A name?” Paul tried to hold himself back. He didn’t want his daughter to sense how concerned he was, at least not yet.
“Just a woman who’d been hung for murdering her husband.”
Emma looked over at her father. He was sitting on the edge of his patio chair, watching her as if she were a child ready to take a nasty spill.
“You don’t believe this malarkey, do you, Dad?” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “For cripes sake, you’re a doctor—a scientist.”
Paul took a big drink of his coffee. “As a doctor, I studied science, Emma. But during my years as a doctor, I witnessed many astonishing things. Unexplainable things. Things having to do with death and dying, and things that happen when people die. Theidea that spirits of the dead, or ghosts, are among us and are trying to communicate with us is a fascinating one, is it not?”
Emma gave it some thought. “Yes, it is, in theory. But I’m not so sure it’s real. Last night, except for me, the other two people Milo said had…well, visitors, is how he put it…were desperately looking for that contact. They attended the séance hoping, even praying, that someone they loved would speak to them from the grave. It would have been easy for them to grasp at any straw.”
“But what about you?”
“What about me?” Emma fidgeted in her seat. “I went to keep Tracy company. For me, it was an evening with a friend, nothing more. Maybe Milo was trying to make a believer out of me, to rope me into his scam. Considering it was fifty-five dollars a head last night, it really is quite a scam.”
“Are you sure that’s the only reason you went?”
Her father had a knack for digging with questions like some folks worked with shovels. Emma always thought he should have been a psychiatrist instead of a surgeon. When she looked away without responding, he continued.
“Emma, I know things have been very unsettling since you and Grant split up. Your child is about to move away from home. You don’t have a career or real purpose in life, and you’re floundering a bit. Maybe, in some way, you went along with Tracy to look for answers, perhaps even a focus to your life.”
This time, Emma looked directly at her father. “Really,
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