A Gift of Wings

What a beautiful weekend this has been. After days and days of dreary, gray drizzle (which I don't really mind because it isn't snow and it is at least making the grass and trees grow green after a long Maine winter) the sun decided to burst out and give us a fabulous Memorial Day Weekend. So out into the warm glow I went to get dirty in the gardens! And it wasn't long after that the universe gave me the opportunity to help one of our extended family. After spending a happy hour or so digging and planting and mulching- and calling for our poodle Griffin again and again as he ranged too far into the woods exploring, it was time to water. The hose is currently housed in our former boarding kennel and soon to be remodeled Reiki studio, so I headed in to grab it and almost dropped to the floor when I heard the enormous wasp buzzing at the window. That's what I thought it was at first. I was terrorized as a child by a wasp nest hidden somewhere in the ceiling above my room, which translates to overreacting to being enclosed with one as an adult. It took just a moment to realize the sound was wrong for a wasp, though. Too loud and lower pitched. I risked a glance up and my heart jumped again. It wasn't a bug at all. It was a tiny bird- a female ruby-throated hummingbird! She must have flown in through the open guillotene doors which had been removed temporarily during the renovations. It was obvious she'd been there a while. She was laying, splay-winged at the bottom of the sill. In a burst of energy she flailed against the glass again, rising up and up in a desperate bid to find an opening to the sky. Then, spent, she just dropped to the bottom again, in the same exhausted position. I jumped up, ready to act. I've rescued animals for years, from baby field mice to cats and dogs in need. Birds are not my strong suit. I looked around for a container to catch her in, thinking she was so small a modified bumblebee scoop and release might be in order. Unfortunately the room was bare. I was on my own with my hands and my heart. So, approaching quietly, I sent all the calming energy I could. I asked her to relax and trust, told her I was no danger to her and if she'd hold still I could help her find the sky. I've read amazing stories of wild animals who find a way to trust a human long enough to let them help, and I prayed this would be another of those situations. It wasn't. As I tried to cup my hands, oh-so-gently, around the tired body she flailed again, her humming magnified by the beat of her wings against the glass. I followed her up with my fingers, caught her when she dropped again. I could feel her fear, and as she fell into my hands the most piteous cry escaped her beak and brought tears to my eyes. She truly, in that moment, thought she was going to die. I could feel it. I could feel the frustration and unwillingness to let life go, as well. I cried out, too, begging her to just relax as I hurried outdoors with her and into the back yard. The edge of our lawn is shady and bordered by bushes and small trees that the birds like to nest in. I got as close as I could and sat down. When I opened my hands I thought she had died. She was lying on her side in my hand with her eyes closed. But as I watched closely I could see the change in the shine of her irridescent green feathers as she breathed, quick and shallow. She had a chance. So I gave her Reiki, asking my angels and hers to make sure it filled her gently and only as much as she wanted to keep her from more stress. And I waited. In the quiet of the afternoon it seemed like everyone waited with bated breath to see if she would rise. Griffin the poodle came over to investigate, but amazingly walked away when I asked him to. (Usually the presence of something small and alive at least causes a fury of investigative excitement!) It was five minutes before she stirred, blinking once or twice then becoming still again. A minute more and she managed to right herself, sitting on her legs and blinking, maybe wondering where on earth she was. I continued to send Reiki and gentle thoughts of love and peace. In the back of my mind I wondered if I could make it to the hummingbird feeders behind me to try and give her a sugar boost- the amount of energy expended through the adrenaline of fear must have been incredible. But I stayed put, not wanting to stress her further. My prayers were answered a minute later when she managed to lift off my hand with shaky wings and land on a branch a foot above my head. After a brief rest she went higher, into the lower branches of our ash tree. And then, incredibly, she took off into the sky, straight up. I held my breath, watching her falter once, twice, wanting to see where she fell if she needed more help. Then the most beautiful thing happened. Another hummingbird-her mate?- shot from the trees to meet her in the sky. They bumped together, then again. The concern of her friend seemed to give the little female strength and they shot off together into the woods. I gazed at the spot where they had disappeared, thanking my guides and angels for their help, and thanking God for the gift of Reiki. But the most beautiful piece of this story, I think, is the love of the little bird from the woods, who had been waiting, probably watching me as I carried his mate off to who-knows-where. The happiness that I felt from them when they met in the sky again made me realize, yet again, that Reiki is truly a gift and one I will hopefully never take for granted.

A Day in the Life, Part 2

“Alex, Mrs. Belvedere is here for Dylan.”

The sudden voice over the intercom almost caused Alex to cut Dixie the poodle’s nose off. Swearing under her breath and kissing the poodle in apology, she quickly unhooked the dog and carried her into the kennel area. After making sure Dixie was comfortable on a blanket in her kennel, Alex sank down to regard Dylan the Old English Sheepdog as he peered through the bars of his own kennel. He definitely was a sight. Gone were the dreadlocks and felted coat. Dylan was now a shaved dog, naked as the day he was born. Probably more so, since she’d almost had to use a surgical blade to finish his underbelly and neck. All things considered, it could have been much worse. He was a nicely built sheepdog, with muscular legs and a lean build. Once his coat grew in a bit he would look very handsome in his puppy cut. Whether or not Alex herself would ever see it remained a slim possibility. She still had to show him to his owner, who would probably refuse to pay and try to sue for defamation of puppy dog.

She sighed, a frustrated sound that shook her slight frame. God, she hated being the bad guy. As if removing all that skanky hair had been a bad thing. The look on Dylan’s face when he was fully awake after sedation had been bemused rather than fearful or agressive, and he’d immediately begun licking his paws and sides enthusiastically. He had let her pet him without protest, loving a massage that actually touched his skin. It had been when he looked up at her that she’d realized he had one blue eye and one brown one. Too cute. “Okay, bud. Let’s go get this over with. And it’s been nice working with you if I never see you again.” Unhooking the door, Alex attached Dylan’s blue and gold leash to his matching collar- which she'd had to wrestle to it's smallest size now that the three inch thick matts were gone- and led him towards the front.


In the reception area Mrs. Belvedere waited, impatiently clicking the heel of her red pump against the tile floor. She held herself tall in her tailored armani pant suit and glared at the door her dog would rush through. She knew that her anger was rolling off in waves by the way the receptionists carefully refused to glance at her. She found herself unable to care just then. Yes, it was a fact that her Dylan had been behind in his grooming. She really couldn’t deny it when it came right down to it. But the way that arrogant girl had so casually announced that her dog was to be shaved and that they would put him under the gas to do it was obnoxious. Not even giving her the dignity of a choice. And then when she’d asked about Dylan’s last groomer, well the lie had just flown from her lips without thought. She just knew the groomer was looking down her nose thinking, now here is a woman who neglects her dog. She just knew they thought badly of her. And it hurt because she wasn’t one to let things go. No, everything in her life was structured, orderly. It was just that ever since, well, it had been a bad time ever since. Life had gotten away for a bit, and for a woman who liked control and predictability, it stood to reason that she’d be a little more stressed and reactive than a normal person. So if they couldn’t understand her anger, was that her fault? She didn’t think so.

Mrs. Belvedere couldn’t suppress a cry of dismay as the door opened and Dylan galloped up to her, dragging the groomer behind him.

“He looks ridiculous!” Mrs. Belvedere turned the stab of guilt into a needle sharp dagger pointed at her only obvious target. “How could you do this to my Dylan-doodle?” she cried, falling to her knees as the dog gamboled around her like a pup, darting in to happily slobber her cheek with his rough tongue.

Alex swallowed her irritation and said mildly, “Ma’am I did the best I could. Dylan was severely matted. I’d like you to know, though, that I was able to shave most of him without any sedation. He really settled down after we got started. I only needed sedation to do his head and neck.” Not that you care anyway. Why do I bother to try and make these people feel better? She’s the one who let him go.

My Harry must be rolling over in his grave right now. Mrs. Belvedere barely heard what the girl was going on about as her late husband’s face swam into sharp focus in her mind.

“Ginny,” he’d said, shortly after being diagnosed with lung cancer, “you’ll need someone to take care of you when I’m gone.” And despite her horrified protests he’d presented her with a little black and white ball of fluff. Dylan had quickly stolen her heart, especially when she saw the bond between Harry and the pup. Every night that they could that year the three of them had snuggled on the couch, an oasis in a sea of doctors and chemo and terror. And as long as he wasn’t too weak or violently ill from another round of something, Harry had brushed the pup faithfully. He had laughingly called those sessions his tonic. Seeing the light in his eye, she’d agreed with him. For a year. And then, well, she had dropped the ball, now, hadn’t she. The old couch had turned into a hiding place and Dylan’s wooly neck a sanctuary from her grief. And now she’d gone and lost even that.

Alex tried to hold onto a neutral expression as the woman on the floor dissolved into tears. For God’s Sake, it was just a haircut! It all grows back, she wanted to snap. Shaving it all off is a hell of a lot better than tearing through the matts, leaving bruises and brush burn and a traumitized dog, don’t you think? She might have said that if it had been someone else. Someone who was even willing to acknowledge her presence. But saying anything like that now would likely turn a bad situation worse.

At least the room was empty, except for the wide-eyed receptionists who were squirming in their seats. Still, there was something about Mrs. Belvedere, the way she knelt there in her expensive suit letting the ungainly sheepdog wash the tears away with his kisses that seemed different. This morning she’d seemed arrogant and uncooperative. Right now she seemed simply defeated. Defeated and sad. With a quick inner prayer and a rub of the worry stone she was clutching in the pocket of her pawprint grooming smock, Alex knelt down beside the older lady. She held one arm out to fend off the dog who this morning had tried to eat her hand. “Mrs. Belvedere, I know Dylan‘s haircut is a shock,” she said quietly. “I really did the best I could, and he was a really good boy for most of it. I think if he were to come back on a regular schedule, we could grow his coat out and keep it long with no trouble. Just let me know what you’d like to do.” She fell silent, waiting for the explosion, hoping for anything else.

Mrs. Belvedere sniffed delicately as she dabbed at her eyes and nose with the handkerchief she had pulled from within her sleeve. It seemed to her that a change was in order. “Ginny,” her Harry had always said. “You never get anywhere if you don’t start somewhere.” Yes, what the groomer said had merit. Maybe Dylan’s shocking condition was just what she’d needed to get back on the right track. She allowed the girl to help her to her feet, not quite able to look her in the eye or smile. “So, what do you recommend for his schedule?” she asked, sounding sharper than she had intended.

Alex was silently thanking the fates for her good luck in saying what seemed to be the right thing. She gave the woman her recommendation and helped her set up future appointments with the receptionists, holding Dylan’s leash as Mrs. Belvedere paid without commenting on the price. The older lady paused on her way out the door that Alex held open for her and for the first time looked right at her with overly bright green eyes. “You know, I believe my Harry would have liked you,” she said accusingly. Then she let herself be dragged off by her unruly dog, leaving Alex to wonder if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Oh well, she thought as she headed back to Dixie the poodle. She had eight weeks before she needed to know.

A Day in the Life, Part 1

I don’t know why I bother. Do I have the word “SCHMUCK” tattooed on my forehead? I didn’t see one when I put on my makeup this morning. I guess it could have happened when I hit the floor over the price of my latest shampoo purchase. Did you know that now they put actual gold in dog shampoo? They must if they expect me to pay what they’re asking. Anyway, the point is that my “SCHMUCK” tattoo was firmly in place by the time old Mrs. Belvedere walked in. She was tall and well dressed, an older businesswoman with a determined glint in her eye. This was a new client and one look made my heart just sink through the floor. Looking at the dog it was easy to see why. An growling Old English Sheepdog the size of my sister’s horse was crouching behind her, trying to pull her back out the front door, and I could see the bunchy matts hanging off his coat from across the room. I just knew what was coming, so I fixed my “I’m a nice confident pet groomer you can’t walk all over” smile on my face and headed over to introduce myself.


She looked down her nose at me and said, “Dylan needs to have a bit of a brush. I haven‘t had time to get to it these past couple weeks. I really don’t think he needs a bath so much as a good comb through.”

Yeah right, lady. That’s gonna happen! Did you happen to notice the dreadlocks covering that dog? If you’ve picked up a brush in the last year I’ll quit my job today and become and accountant. I wondered- could she see my head getting ready to explode.

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s just see where his coat’s at.” I knelt down to feel what I already knew was a felt sweater. Darling Dylan gave me a wide tooth grin and tried to snap my fingers off before I could touch him. Mrs. Belvedere held his head for me (ha-ha he hasn’t had his morning romp yet) and I managed to sneak a feel of his hind end. I made a show of feeling for matts- the whole dog was one big matt. “Well,” I said, “I don’t think I will be able to save his coat, ma’am. He’s pretty severely matted. He’ll have to be shaved.” As she drew herself up to her full height to veto that idea I added, “And he’s probably not going to let me work with him. I’d like to have the vet sedate him.” You would have thought I’d said we were going to shoot him then and there. Her face went completely pale and she started shouting. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WANT TO SEDATE MY SWEET DYLAN-DOODLE” I kid you not, she said Dylan-Doodle. “HE HAS NEVER BEEN TREATED LIKE A- A- A DANGEROUS DOG! MY LAST GROOMER ADORED HIM!”

“Well,” I said through my clenched teeth, “Why didn’t you call your regular groomer for an appointment?”

“SHE HAS A BAD BACK AND CAN’T DO SHEEPDOGS ANYMORE!”

Yeah right. Smart girl, that groomer. I wonder if she recommended me as a replacement? What did I ever do to her? So I said as Mrs. Belvedere stopped to take a breath, “I’m sorry but if Dylan stays here today he’s getting shaved. I’ll be happy to try it without sedation, but you’ll have to sign a release form in case the vet needs to sedate him. If you want him to have a full coat he’ll have to come back for a bath every month at least once he grows out a little, probably every two weeks. It’s up to you .” She stood there staring at me, red in the face, mouth gaping like a large mouth bass. I stared back with my hands fisted behind my back and my eyes glazed. God I hate confrontation. I read somewhere that in a battle of wills the first one to break down and talk loses. I wasn’t brushing out a matted dog that wanted to kill me, so I kept my mouth shut. Seconds went by. Finally, she spoke. “Well I suppose if you only take half off- a puppy cut-”

“It’s all or nothing, Mrs. Belvedere. I can’t brush out those mats. It would hurt Dylan way too much.” Silence. I never knew how loud the office clock ticked.  But I'd heard somewhere that the first person to break the silence was always the one to cave, and I bit my lip hard while I stared at her patent leather shoes.  I'm not looking at you! I’m not caving this time! I want my back and my shoulders and especially my fingers in one piece this afternoon!

After what seemed like forever, success!  The woman kind of wilted like a water starved rose. “Oh fine. Do what you have to. I’ll be back at twelve for him.”

“I’ll have him ready at three, Mrs. Belvedere.” I knew I was pushing it, but he needed time to wake up from his sedation. “And don’t forget to sign the release form with the receptionist.” She glared at me and I swear she was imagining my very painful death. But she tossed the leash at me without a word and stalked over to the front desk. I won! Dylan was getting shaved, and I got to keep my sanity!

As the door slammed behind her I almost did a little dance. Almost. Dylan, if I could see past the matt hanging over his eyes, was definitely glaring at me. Sigh. Let’s get started, shall we? When I tugged on his leash he tugged back with a warning rumble. And do you know, as I stood there trying to come up with a plan to win the next battle in the War of the Matted Sheepdog, a young woman in a business suit came through the door with a tiny Maltese in her arms. She took one look at me in my grooming smock and said, somewhat sarcastically, “It must be nice to play with dogs all day for a living.”

Into the Light

“Whatever it is, it’s following you.”

“Shut up, Devin. It’s not even funny.” Nichel spared a disgusted glance for the guy in the Red Sox cap behind her as she inched away from the staircase, infrared camera in hand. Before her the attic spread was cloaked in gloomy dark pierced only by the camera screen in her hand.

“I mean it, Nic,” Devin insisted, close behind her. “Unless you’re a ghost or a microwave oven, something is following you and it’s giving the EMF detector a reading of 4.8.”

Nic shivered, The logical side of her brain reaching for an easy answer. "What about the walls? The wiring could be bad. Bad wiring puts out high EMF. Or a fuse box? What about a fuse box?" EMF, or ElectroMagnetic Fields were energy levels in the atmosphere around things that used electricity: Microwave ovens, wires in the walls- and in some instances, ghosts as they drew energy from the room.

"Nope, sorry. The guys were all over this place before lights out and the highest base reading they got was a 0.2. And the fuse box is in the basement. I would have to say that this reading is paranormal."

"Okay. Paranormal. That just means unexplained. It doesn't mean ghost." Nic caught her breath as the ground seemed to drop out from under her for a moment. She grabbed for the with one hand on the wall, trying to catch her balance and clear her head.

"You okay?"

"Fine. Just dizzy in the dark for a sec." She wondered if something was trying to tell her something- or warn her? Was it wrong to be here in this creaky old attic looking for ghosts- if there were such things as ghosts? What if the ghosts didn’t want to be found?

Had her mother ever felt any sudden moral dilemmas in the middle of a haunted house investigation?

All the research in the world couldn’t substitute for real world experience. She had read all the books and felt completely prepared for dealing with whatever paranormal activity she might find. But what if a ghost resented being part of a scientific investigation? Would her mother, now a spirit herself, want to be discovered in their old two bedroom apartment if someone came looking? Nic wished she could ask. She blinked rapidly against the sudden sheen in her eyes. There were a lot of things she wished she could ask her mom.

Her next thoughts were swept aside as she gasped out loud. Her body burned, but with cold, not heat. It felt like someone had just drenched her with ice, from the inside out. Her insides clenched and her fingers stung with frostbite.

“Look at that!” Devin was suddenly at her side and Nic gasped again when she saw what he was pointing at. On the screen of the infrared camera in her hand, which recorded heat and energy levels, a red form was moving rapidly away from them across the room. “Come on!” Devin pushed past her, grabbing the camera out of her hands and heading off in pursuit. Nic followed more slowly, shaking her head and trying to gain her equilibrium. The searing cold was dissipating, but she felt nauseated.

“It’s gone. Right into the wall.” Devin stopped at the window overlooking the two hundred year old estate. “But look at this! It had to have gone right through you,” he said excitedly, replaying the footage for her. “And you felt it, didn’t you?”

Nic nodded, fascinated. “I felt something alright. Cold. And sick.”

The screen showed the normal appearance of the room from the door. Then, suddenly, the screen flashed white, like a surge of cold hit the sensors. Finally, the red form ran- yes, it looked like a human shape running- down the center of the attic and disappeared into the wall. Her heart started pounding fast. “You’re right. It doesn’t come from the side; it comes from behind, dead on. No pun intended.”

“Owen’s gonna love this.”

“If he even believes us.”

Devin snorted. “Even he can’t explain this one away.” In the dim light of the camera Nic could see Devin had the same stupid excited grin plastered on his face that she felt on hers.

As if conjured, their group leader’s voice crackled over Devin’s hand held radio “Okay ladies, get down to the library right now. We’ve got some heavy activity I want verified by as many people as possible.”

Startled, they both whirled for the stairs. It wasn’t often that Owen, their skeptical leader, got excited about paranormal activity. Usually he sat back and let the evidence come to him. Nic wondered if Devin’s heart raced like hers did or if his skin was covered in goose bumps at the thought of touching something paranormal. She followed him quickly down the creaking stairs, glad that someone had turned on the hall light below. She didn’t know if Devin could hear it, but Nic didn’t have the stomach to acknowledge the beat of footsteps she could hear trailing behind them as she closed the door a little too hard.

The New England Ghost Hunting Society was the newest group of ghost hunters in the northeast. Just over a year old and twelve members strong, they were a motivated group willing to travel to research homes thought to be haunted.

It was for this reason that they had various cameras, sensors, and digital recorders set up throughout Janice Chester-Langely’s two hundred year old farmhouse on this cool spring night. It seemed, the wealthy widow had explained in a frantic phone call to NEGHS, that things had started happening soon after the restoration of the falling down estate had begun, particularly the strange sound of piano music coming from the library late at night. Strange because there was no piano in that room, or in any of the thirteen rooms that made up the main house.

The workers had also reported banging sounds and footsteps coming from rooms known to be empty, and Mrs. Chester-Langely herself claimed to have seen a full bodied apparition gliding along the upstairs hallway one evening before bed. Of course she’d already taken off her glasses and was beginning to feel the effects of her sleeping pills, so she couldn’t be completely sure what it was. Still, the older woman felt it was worth looking into, if only to make the workers more comfortable. So the call had been made, and NEGHS had sent a team to make a house call.

The library was on the first floor. Nic and Devin exchanged bewildered glances as they quick-stepped inside. The lights, controlled by a dimmer switch, were just high enough to see everything clearly. The six other crew members were swarming about staring at sensors and muttering information to one another. Owen was in the middle of it, but when he saw Devin he waved them over to fill them in.

“People have been hearing the piano music all night in here, and about twenty minutes ago a book flew off one of the shelves," he said in answer to the unspoken question. Usually an investigation was limited to two people at a time to limit contamination of evidence such as noises and voices. "The EMF sensors are spiking all over the place. Lisa swore someone touched her on the arm over by the bookshelf. And listen to this.” Owen held up a small handheld voice recorder. "Right after Lisa asked a question something- well, just listen." He pressed play. The voice of an investigator asking questions to the empty room filled the room. After each question was a long pause, in case someone- or something- wanted to answer.

"Are you stuck here in this house?…Are you waiting for someone?…Can you-,"

"I heard that!" Devin broke in excitedly. "Rewind it, Owen. What did it say?"

Nic had heard it too- a low whisper in the background after one of the questions. She leaned forward, straining to make sense of the jumble.

"-you waiting for someone?"

And there it was again.

"I…want…Nichel…"

Nic gasped, chills washing down the back of her neck and spine.

"Oh my God! That's awesome! It said your name! How did it know your whole name?" In his excitement Devin grabbed her hand and shook it. Nic managed a wobbly grin in return. "That's definitely an intelligent haunting. It's interacting."

"Wow. That's- wow."

Owen gave them a tight smile. “So you see why all the excitement. I'm going to stay with Lisa and do temperature readings. Nic, you have your voice recorder on you? Good. You find a spot and do an EVP session. If it wants you maybe it'll be willing to talk to you. Devin, look around with the infrared, will you? How'd it go in the attic?”

As Devin launched into the story of what they’d encountered in the attic, Nic pulled out her recorder and checked the battery levels. EVP's- or electronic voice phenomenon were always her favorite part of the ghost hunt. It always sent shivers up her spine to sit in the dark asking questions, only to replay the recording later and hear a disembodied voice answering from beyond the grave. Of course, it didn't happen often, but that just made it all the more exciting. And this last one had spoken, apparently, to her.

The hair on the back of her neck prickling and standing straight up was her first clue. She shivered with the feeling that someone was staring at her. Her fingers fumbled with the on switch of the recorder. She glanced up in time to see everyone but Owen and Lisa leave the room. Devin was moving off with his eyes on the infrared camera. Owen and Lisa were across the room recording ambient temperatures. Then why did it feel like she was alone in the dark room and someone- something- was trying to get her attention? Unconsciously she rubbed her arms, still feeling cold from her experience upstairs, and glanced around. Everything was normal, as far as she could see. The bookcases were full of hard and soft cover books. The leather furniture was arranged artfully around the room. But as her eyes trailed to the wall opposite the entrance, her breath caught and her heart gave a painful leap. Her pulse doubled. And she suddenly knew that, yes, it was possible for one’s blood to run cold.

A pale creature in the corner of the room, half hidden behind an overstuffed armchair, was watching her with an intensity that made her skin crawl.

She glanced over at Devin, opened her mouth to speak. She had to clear her throat when only a squeak came out. “Devin?” she whispered. He didn’t hear her, immersed as he was in watching the infrared detector. She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. She cleared her throat again. “They’re looking in the wrong place.”

“I know, it gets boring after awhile,” Devin chuckled, misunderstanding her. “Don’t worry, we’ll move on in a sec.”

“No. No, I mean, she’s not by the bookcase. She’s over there.” Nic turned, pointing, and nearly jumped out of her skin. The pale shadow had moved and now hovered, staring just inches from her face.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” she mumbled through a wave of fear, talking herself through it like some kind of coach. “Don’t panic- ghosts can’t hurt you. I should pray. I should say a prayer for protection. I don’t know any prayers. Why didn’t I ever pay attention in church? Dammit!” She stumbled back a step, stopping when she hit something solid, and babbled on. “Now be a nice little- whatever- and take two steps back, kay?”

“Nic, what’s wrong?” Devin put a hand up as she backed into him, heard her speaking, not to him, not to anyone he could see, and felt his own face pale. “Holy crap! Owen! She’s sensitive! She can see it! And- shit! So can I! Look at the infrared camera!” His attention was now riveted on the screen in his hand, which showed a small red figure standing-no, hovering!- just inches from Nic.

Owen and Lisa ran over. There were excited exclamations as others ran in with sensors or just to see, too. They began waving various instruments wildly at Nic, who didn’t move. Who didn't seem to notice anything but the small creature in front of her.

For Nic the motion in the room was rolling to a slow stop, the modern furniture blurring and reforming into a lovely old fashioned design, the bustle and noise melting away as she was drawn into the world of the spirit, who was now clearly a little blond haired girl. She was wearing an ankle length white night gown, the kind with a high collar and ruffles. Her hair was tied back with a blue ribbon that matched her innocent eyes. She was smiling shyly. Nic smiled back, her fear strangely suspended, and spoke softly. “Hello.”

The little girl opened her mouth and a sound, like a tinkle of wind chimes, filled Nic’s head briefly. She cocked her head from side to side like a radio antenna, trying to understand the words. The sound resolved itself into a little voice. “My Mama told me to wait for her.”

Chills. ”Where is your Mama?”

“She told me to, so I’m waiting in the music room. I like the piano.” The little girl turned and ran over to the ghostly instrument, laughter trailing behind her. Nic followed her, unaware of the parade of ghost hunters behind her. “See? You turn it on here.” It was a player piano sitting in the spot where the armchair had been, and when the little girl turned it on, the instrument began to play a rollicking tune all by itself, eerie in the unnatural silence. “I’m Becky. You're Nic, right?”

Again the cold wash of chills. “That's right. I'm Nic.”

Becky perched on the piano bench, swinging her legs back and forth, twisting a lock of blond hair. Then her body was racked with a hacking cough that lasted several seconds. She drew a white cloth handkerchief from her pocket to wipe her mouth. “Mama will be right along. We’re going ice skating with Uncle Bill and Lisa as soon as I feel better. I got new skates for my birthday last month.”

“Have you been waiting long?”

“I- I don’t know. She said to wait…” Becky coughed again and seemed to wilt a little, looking a worried. Her eyes darkened suddenly in a lightning change of moods. “Where is my Mama?” she demanded petulantly, jumping up and knocking the music book off the piano. The book hit Nic in the arm, startling her enough to suddenly be aware of the sounds of the ghost hunters. It occurred to her that she must be able to see Becky for a reason. Her heart ached. How could she tell this poor little soul that she was dead, and her mother wasn’t coming back?

“Help her go to the light.” A soft touch on her back let her know Devin was behind her, although she was still blind to the ordinary world. He spoke softly in her ear, sending a shiver up her spine that had nothing to do with ghosts. “Tell her to find her relatives in the light, Nic. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

She had no idea what she was doing, only the words of all the books she’d read speaking of The Light and the piece that lost souls could find there. She didn’t know if she could do it, but she couldn't abandon this little girl either. She could still feel Devin there, supporting her, and it gave her courage. She took a deep breath. “Becky?” The little figure was now huddled up behind the piano again, crying softly. “Becky, I know where your mama is. I can tell you how to find her, if you want.”

The little girl peeked through her fingers. “Really?”

Nic nodded. “If you look up, you’ll see a beautiful light. That’s where you mama is. Why don’t you look up now and try to find her?” As she spoke, Nic felt a warming sensation on her back, accompanied by a sudden glow.

Becky's hands fell away from her face as she focused on something past Nic's shoulder. Her eyes began to dry and her face took on the healthy glow of a child playing long in the sun. She stood up, smiling, and held out a hand that was twisting with the happy impatience of any small child. When Nic took hold of it, the skin was warm and real against hers.

Together they turned to face an arc of rainbow light that had appeared, eclipsing everything. The room was gone. Devin was gone, but in the presence of the light nothing mattered except the happiness and welcome that was pouring out. From the depths of the sunshine stepped a beautiful woman dressed in a long paisley skirt and shirtwaist. The air was filled with the gentle scent of roses. She was wearing a radiant smile that encompassed both girls.

Becky was bouncing up and down on Nic's arm, shrieking, “Mama! Mama! You’re here! You’re here!” Her mother held out her arms and Becky let go to run and bury her face in the paisley skirt. The woman hugged her daughter close.

Unexpectedly, Nic had tears on her cheeks. She was unable to watch Becky and her mother. "Mom?" Her eyes were drawn into the light, desire a painful vice on her heart. "Mom, are you in there? I miss you. I- I need you." She was gripped by the sudden urge to run into that radiant rainbow light and find her, to have her own sweet reunion. How long had it been since she'd been safe in her mother's arms? She even stumbled forward two steps without thinking, only to be stopped by a rose scented hand on her shoulder. The woman held her back, her gentle eyes kind but firm. She shook her head and Nic fell back. "Please? I miss her!"

Becky's mother shook her head. She then bent and picked up Becky, who smiled sweetly and waved. They both mouthed the words, “Thank you,” and it all melted away: the light, the ghosts, and the warmth.

“Nic! Nic, come on, now. Come back to me. Please?"

She was kneeling on the floor of the modern day library with a crowd of people staring at her. Her face was wet with tears. She blinked at them, awkward in their scrutiny. Luckily Devin's familiar blue eyes and dark bangs jutting out from under the Red Sox cap were right there. He was kneeling beside her holding her hands. She focused on him. Her voice, when she managed it, was scratchy and hesitant. “Was that supposed to happen?”

Her comment broke the uneasy silence as several people laughed out loud and Devin rolled his eyes. “I was hoping you could tell us,” he told her, helping her up.

Nic let him pull her to her feet. “The little girl- she’s gone.”

“She’s right,” someone confirmed. “All the readings are back to normal.”

Over Devin’s shoulder Nic caught Owen’s eye. He met her gaze soberly for several seconds. “Looks like we got some good stuff. I guess we’ll see.” He glanced around at the crew. “Alright, we’ve got enough data. Time to call it a night. Devin, you and Nichel break down the cameras in the kitchen. And get some coffee. You look like you could use it.” He headed off to start gathering the remote cameras and sensors that had been set up around the house, seemingly unperturbed by the amazing events he’d just witnessed. Nic fought down a rush of anger at his nonchalant attitude. She could tell he was pushing away everything he had just witnesses and by tomorrow would probably have a plausible explanation for everything that had happened. His anti-psychic attitude was suddenly beginning to wear on her. It had never bothered her before.

Devin grabbed Nic’s hand and smiled at her. “Well,” he told her as he led her towards the kitchen. “We could always go back to the attic. If you get two for two Owen might have to admit you did something incredible.”

“I doubt it.” Nic giggled, appreciating his attempt to diffuse the situation. “Now if we could get the ghosts to appear to him- all at once-“

“-in full body apparitions,” Devin supplied.

“Then we might have a chance. But they’d have to do something- sing, maybe do a dance-,”

“-in authentic period costumes.” They burst out laughing together at their own lame joke. For Nic the laughter was the release of a tension that had gripped her since they had entered the library. She would think of what had happened, and its implications, tomorrow. Preferably when it was sunny and light outside and every sound wasn’t amplified in her head. But as they boxed up cameras and coiled extension cords, she felt a suddenly familiar chill crawling up the back of her neck. Pausing, she glanced around. “Hey, Devin?”

“Yeah?”

Nic picked up the EMF detector and waved it towards the walk-in pantry. “I don’t think we’re finished yet.”

"No way."

"Way. If you're up for it, that is."

Devin switched the infrared camera back on without batting an eyelash. “Ready when you are.”

“Here we go again!”