Page 78 of Old Flames

“That night I didn’t sleep well. I had a feeling of being watched.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“There were other encounters.”

“Where?”

“In the garden,” Jules said. “Always in the garden, and always at night.”

“That’s not unusual,” Beverly said. “What you’re describing is a residual haunt. Energy attached to a specific area, like Hemingway at the bar on Duval.” She left the table and returned with a mini bottle of water for Jules. “What did I say on our tour about the Civil War battlefields?”

“I don’t recall.” Jules hadn’t realized there would be a pop quiz.

“Visitors report seeing apparitions or hearing sounds. Some believe that the energy of the fallen soldiers is attached to the soil.”

“That’s understandable considering they died there. But my mother died at Presbyterian Hospital in Brooklyn.”

“Your mother?”

Jules fought the urge to dart out of the shop. She hadn’t planned on bringing up Ruby. As always, she intended to nibble around the edges of the truth, never getting to the meat of it.

“Hey, listen,” Beverly said gently. “This shop has been in my family for three generations. There’s nothing we haven’t heard. I’m not a priest or a priestess, but our conversation will remain confidential.”

Jules took a breath and let it out. She recounted both encounters, the difference in her mother’s appearance, her chilly disposition that had escalated by her second visit to open hostility. “I don’t know that she knows who I am, to be honest. There’s no emotional connection between us. Maybe that’s normal with her being dead and all.”

“Nothing about this is normal,” Beverly said. “You’re in town for a work event, and the spirit of your departed mother appears in the hotel garden. That’s strange.”

Jules was overwhelmed with relief. Her heart and mind were divided. She didn’t want to reject her mother, but she couldn’t embrace her, either. “Thanks for saying that.”

“Well, it’s true,” Beverly said. “During these encounters, how do you feel?”

“Terrified.”

“And after?” Beverly asked. “What feeling lingers?”

“I’m confused, mostly,” she replied. “I want to feel more, but I don’t, which leaves me feeling guilty. I want to do right by her. If she’s lost, I can’t—”

“Let’s pay attention to those cues,” Beverly said, interrupting her. “Guilt is useless. Chances are you would recognize your mother, connect with her essence. If you didn’t, well, you didn’t.”

Yes, exactly that!

Didn’t Sebastien recognize his grandfather the day he died? He wasn’t spooked. He felt his grandfather’s love and good intentions. Sebastien understood, even at a young age, that he’d come to say goodbye. Meanwhile, after meeting her mother, Jules was left feeling scared and confused.

“Not all spirits are what they seem. Just because this apparition looks like your mother, doesn’t mean it is. Some spirits are intelligent, manipulative little shits. They know what to do or say from the other side to get us to do their bidding.”

Jules was at the edge of her uncomfortable seat now, clutching the bottle of water so tightly, Beverly had to ease it from her grip. God, she hoped Beverly was right. If not, she feared she may never leave Key West, knowing her mother was trapped in that garden fighting to be free.

“You’ve been in contact with her twice. The only message coming through is fear and indifference. This from a woman who spent her life nurturing you. Just because she died, doesn’t make her a stranger. Her love for you doesn’t go away. Even if it were your mother, this is not the connection you need. If anything, it’ll distort your memories and kill your love for her, which are all you have right now. She doesn’t have the right to come back and mess with your head like that.”

“She wouldn’t,” Jules said. “She was so protective of me, too protective. She wouldn’t do anything to upset me.”

“That’s your answer.”

Jules brought her hands to her chest. Her heart was a bruise, and she couldn’t help the tears from flowing. “It’s been a lot to deal with.”

“I understand,” Beverly said. “You needed the release. Now let’s see what the cards say.” She picked up the deck and shuffled again with precise flicks of the wrist. She picked five cards at random before looking up with sparkling eyes. “This is fantastic.”

Jules sniffled. “Do the cards say I’m going to win a Hugo Award? That would truly be fantastic.”