Nearly Departed, Max Schlienger [the gingerbread man read aloud txt] 📗

“First, if you do not mind, I would like you to tell me some of your sister’s history, and how she came to be haunting you.” He had learned, via a rather embarrassing misunderstanding on his part, that it was always best to know a ghost’s story right from the beginning. That way, when it came time to “communicate” with them, there was less chance of saying something stupid, or coming across as a necrophiliac.

“Suit yourself, I suppose.” Elspeth led him to a circle of large armchairs arranged at the right side of the room. At their center was a round wooden table, and atop that, a silver tray of tea and cookies. “I don’t imagine this is done steeping yet; I’d have thought that you’d want to talk after meeting her.” Her voice echoed off the high ceiling, and Dennis struggled to keep his own from doing the same. He stared at the steaming kettle.

“How did you know that I would be arriving when I did?”

“I saw your car stall outside,” replied Elspeth. Dennis winced, but quickly turned the expression into a smile. Elspeth regarded the kettle with a distrustful eye, giving the impression that she suspected it of having done something naughty.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to meet her?”

“I think it would be better if I knew more about her, first. What was her name?”

“Her name is Evelyn.”

There was no stress to the word, but Dennis made a mental note that Elspeth had used “is” instead of “was.” In her mind, he thought, her sister had become an everyday part of her life. He sat down in one of the armchairs and stroked the edges of his beard.

“Evelyn, yes,” Dennis repeated, nodding his head in thought. “You weren’t twins.” He phrased it as a statement instead of a question. If the two of them had been twins, then Elspeth would hear it as a question, and assume that Dennis – or, rather, Doctor September – was possessing of some supernatural knowledge. If they hadn’t been, she would hear it as a statement, and think much the same thing.

Elspeth sat down opposite to Dennis. “No,” she replied plainly.

Or maybe she wouldn’t, thought Dennis. The woman wasn’t rude or temperamental, he thought, she was just difficult to read. Or impress. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if she could take anything in stride, up to and including the manifestation of a real ghost. Maybe that was why she was imagining that she had one, he thought. It could be a way of adding an element of the unknown to her life.

“How did she die, may I ask? How did she come to be haunting you?”

Elspeth lifted the lid on the tea kettle and peered inside. “This will be weak, but it’s probably good enough to drink by now.” She poured two cups, and without consulting Dennis, dropped a cube of sugar into each of them. “I’m not avoiding the question, Doctor,” she said, stirring the tea with the tiniest spoon Dennis had ever seen. “She was always fairly unhealthy, and one day she fell ill. They never told me any more than that.”

“Who is ‘they,’ precisely?” Dennis asked.

“My parents. They both died about a decade back, which is when she first showed up.”

“Ah.”

Seemingly satisfied that the tea was to her liking, and thus would be to Dennis’, Elspeth placed one cup on a matching saucer and handed the entire thing over. Dennis accepted it with another bow of his head, but did not immediately try to drink it. Doctor September was not the sort to spill hot beverages into his lap.

“Ghosts typically manifest immediately after death,” he said. “Why do you suppose your sister waited so long to appear, Ms. Palin?”

“I don’t know.”

As far as providing backstory went, this woman was an abysmal failure. Then again, Dennis supposed, that might make things easier.

“I meant to comment earlier, Ms. Palin, that your front garden is quite lovely.”

For the first time since meeting her, Dennis saw a hint of a smile cross Elspeth’s face. “That’s very kind of you,” she said. “I tend to it myself.” She took a quiet sip from her cup. “Does it have something to do with my sister?”

“I cannot be sure yet,” Dennis replied. “I do not mean to pry, but knowing some of your own background would make this process easier.” It was ironic how true that was. The more familiar he could make his own “findings,” the easier it would be for the woman to believe him.

If Elspeth had any qualms about revealing details from her personal life, she did not show them. Instead, she treated Dennis to a story about being born in Britain, coming to America in her early childhood years, and never seeing much of her father. He was, she explained, an artist of some kind, and was contracted by individuals from all over the country to churn out works of intrigue and beauty. Her mother had been a simple homemaker, but had been incredibly sharp when it came to finances, and had managed to turn their modest earnings into something considerably more substantial. Throughout the entire story, though, there was little mention of the sister, Evelyn, apart from her being ten years Elspeth’s senior. It led Dennis to wonder if he had missed a crucial detail somewhere.

“When did you say your sister died, Ms. Palin?”

There was a tiny hint of movement in the vicinity of Elspeth’s right eyebrow, but her expression remained otherwise unchanged. “She was seventeen,” she responded. “That was forty-six years ago.”

A discrepancy immediately jumped out at Dennis. “Forgive me, but I was under the impression that your family moved around quite a bit when you were younger.”

“It was only my father who did any traveling,” Elspeth answered. “I have lived in this house for most of my life.”

“I see.” He closed his mouth and silently counted to five, pretending to consider some internal thought. “And presumably, your sister now haunts it for that same reason?”

“Oh, no, Doctor,”