Part 9

          I'm more distracted than ever the next day at work.  I tell my coworkers I didn't feel well yesterday and am still a little under the weather, so might be a bit out of it.  And I do feel strange, like... like I'm not quite tethered to the world any more.  And it takes so much effort to focus on the here and now, when the memory of Meres is so strong and so near.
          I did get something to eat at the tea shop last night, but I didn't stay long.  Once home, I called Anna, the psychic, and made the earliest appointment I could - still a few days away.  And then I sat down in the midst of my drawings, surrounded by the Masons and their world, and wept.
          Sometime later though, I grabbed newsprint and charcoal (willow and vine, soft and workable and visceral), and started feverishly sketching.  The photo of Meres, the door chimes, and the visions, the feelings and impressions, as best I could capture them.  The sketches ran together, as many as would fit crammed onto each sheet of paper, their edges overlapping and making a tangled web of everything together.  Pale hair and a fading anguished face,  a shadowy silhouette, a feather blackened and mottled by fire or rot, bleeding gashes on a young man's back, Meres' tensed fingers around the rose, an empty desert, figures receding into a distance, star-shaped sigils with writing I don't recognize so can only guess at the forms of...
          I don't know how late it was, only that morning light hadn't broken when I collapsed onto the couch, my eyes fuzzy and refusing to focus, my hands trembling and fingertips on the verge of bleeding, from rubbing ashes into the rought paper.  That's what charcoal is, after all, the burnt remains of vines, of willow branches...  Willow, what does that represent again?  I've seen willow trees on so many aging gravestones...

          Susie-the-sulky-teen is still doing her best to ignore her receptionst duties when I enter Anna's place again a few days later.  I continue to reply to her curt boredom with exhuberant sweetness, and am rewarded with a ten-point perfect eyeroll.
          I find Anna in the same room as before, but this time the cats bolt the instant I near the door.  I start to laugh - but stop when I see Anna's face.  And remember the dogs' reactions near me, usually right before a wave of fear and foreboding and ill-will hits me.
          "Kimberly - Kimber, it was, right?"  Her voice is as friendly and welcoming as ever, but her face shows worry and uncertainty.  "Come on in, have a seat."  I pull the door closed behind me, and sit in the same chair I took last time.  She sits opposite me, putting her elbows on her knees and leaning intently forward.  "Things have intensified around you, haven't they?"
          I nod, grinning wryly. "Yup."
          "There's almost a haze around you, I can sense several spirits but I can't quite clarify them right now.  There were two the last time you were here, weren't there?"
          "Yes - a kinder female one, and a... more troubling male one."
          She nods, considering.  "Yes.  I think they're both still there, but everything's less clear.  There's something very, very strong clouding things for me."
          "You know, that doesn't surprise me, I've been feeling like there's a thin curtain between me and the rest of the world since..."  I take a deep breath.  If I can tell anyone, I can tell her.
          "Go on," she says softly, looking into my eyes reassuringly.  "I guarantee you, I've heard stranger."
          I tell her - briefly - about the time-slips on the Mason property.  Not all of them, not all of the details, but a summary of the things I've seen and felt, and as I explain them I'm able to coalesce a few theories.  "I know they're not just visions of the past, because I've physically interacted with things.  When I saw the third story of the house, and then came back to my time where it doesn't exist, I really did fall the distance.  And I accidentally brought back a letter with me once."
          Her eyes widen at this.  "Do you think that may have disturbed the spirits, removing something from their time and place?"
          "You know, I did at first - things seemed to start intensifying about then.  But I don't think that's it.  My visits are so unpredictable, and skip around in time so much, there'd be no hope of returning it properly anyway.  And it's only half a letter really, and doesn't seem to contain anything important."
          "...but the last one, the one that happened a few days ago, didn't take place on the grounds, and I didn't go--- well, I didn't go back to their time, anyway, I don't know if I went anywhere or not, but..."  I describe the encounter with Meres as best I can, and by the end of it I'm covered in goosebumps, my hands trembling and heart pounding again.  The sense of his presence was so, so strong, it's that more than anything that's shaken me, it's been days and the aftershocks are still rattling me.
          Her brows furrow further as I go on, and when I've finished, she sighs and closes her eyes in thought.  "I think... you're going to need someone better suited to this sort of thing than I am.  I'm great with auras, spirits trying to give commonplace hints, more the every-day interactions between their plane and ours.  But your case is more complex than that.  And to have one come to you, when every other time you've gone to them - clearly something has changed, or is changing, and growing stronger.  When you were here before, I was able to sense the two near you pretty well, but despite all you've told me, I can't see them any clearer yet.  It's like squinting through a blizzard, like someone's scattered something through the air so that I can't discern where one thing ends and another begins.  But I can tell you, there's something other than a regular ghost in the mix.  I'm not sure what - I don't think it's anything that will harm you - but it's stronger than the spirit of someone who's been dead a hundred years.  Most ghosts are actually quite timid, tenuous, with a pretty poor grasp of anything beyond the one or two persons, places, or things they're fixated on.  But this... there's something quite cognizant and deliberate near you."
          "I'm almost sure it's Meres.  But I know so little about him, really, and I have no idea what he might want from me..."
          "It's unfortunately no clearer to me.  I'm going to give you the number for a friend of mine, Sylvia.  She's had a good deal more experience with stronger spirits, and more unusual cases.  She doesn't have regular office hours like I do, but she'll always take referrals from me or one of the others in our profession."
          "Thank you, I really appreciate that.  I'm not sure... I don't know, I just want to have as much information about all of this as I can?"
          "That's always a wise course to take.  And the spirits may make it clearer what it is they want.  And maybe they won't, but will just fade back over time.  But it's clear something is building around you, so please, call Sylvia soon, she'll be better able to guide you."
          Getting up, Anna crosses the room to a small desk, and flips open an address book.  She writes down a number on the back of her business card, and walks over to hand it to me.  But as she stretches out her hand, and I reach mine toward it, a sudden gust comes up and I feel the pit of my stomach lurch as if it were on a roller coaster.  I gasp at the wave of darkness that sweeps through the air, and Anna falls back, stumbling and luckily landing in a chair.  A small dish of keys and loose change falls off a table, clattering to the floor, as the curtains and everything else loose in the room flutters violently as if in a wind - but the door is closed, the windows are closed, and everything falls to stillness the instant after it was moved, as if a child had taken hold and shaken it violently, then dropped it just as quickly.
          Anna's eyes are wide, and she catches her breath so hard that she starts coughing.  But she recovers quickly and begins to chant, I can't make out the words but I hear the rhythm of them and see her lips moving, as her eyes narrow and her whole being visibly focuses.  The wind stops completely, but I still feel the thickness in the air, like a thunderstorm about to let loose.
          "Azal..." I whisper, my heart pounding and hands shaking.  His own children had such a deep fear of him, what would he be capable of with someone he had no obligation to show mercy toward?
          But then - a soft breeze brushes against my cheek, moving my hair with it again.  I blink rapidly, hardly daring to breathe, thinking I imagined it.  But no, the heaviness is receding, I can feel the weight lifting off of my lungs.  Anna is still chanting, but she's less frantic now, and instead of being clenched tightly, her hands have opened and are making fluid motions in the air before her.  I can feel an emptying around me, like storm clouds blown away and the sky cleaning behind them.
          I shiver, feeling hot and cold together across my skin, like cool water thrown against a sunburn.  "I think they've gone... haven't they?"
          Anna takes a deep breath, and her eyes clear, meeting mine.  "Yes.  For now, at least, the air is clear.  Did you get any sense of what, or who..?"
          I nod slowly.  "Azal.  And then Meres.  Meres for sure, it felt just the same as the other day.  I'm less certain about Azal, but I'm pretty sure."
          "I can see the girl again - it is a girl, she flickers into different ages from time to time, but mostly she's a young girl, between six and twelve years old."
          "Evelyn!  Oh, it has to be.  Is she..."  I was about to ask if she's all right, but, evidently, she's a ghost, so I have no idea what "all right" would even be for her.
          "She was untouched by the others, I think she hid herself from them.  Or maybe they just didn't notice her.  But she's near you now - and I think..."  Anna closes her eyes a moment, then smiles.  "I think if she could put her arms around you, she would."

          I decide to head into town on an afternoon off, and see if Mary's heard anything new that would interest me.  Now that it seems half the town knows I'm researching the Masons, I have a hunch she'll hear something.  It's also a perfect reason to get out of the house awhile - I've been in such a driven and dark place with the drawings after the vision of Meres, and the encounter at Anna's, and with everything that's happened lately... honestly, I just want to hear Mary's chipper banter for awhile, it'll be a refreshing change.
          On my arrival, I spot poor Mary cornered by Ralphie Sarasota again - this time beside the community bulletin board, where he's pointing at a poster for a spaghetti dinner, which I suspect he's trying to make a date for the two of them.  I bite back a grin, and pull the sketchbook out of my bag, opening it to a page with a lot of writing on it.
          I clear my throat as I approach them, and feign a look of concerned bewilderment.  "I'm sorry, but, the other lady told me to ask Ms. Sueter for some help with this?  I'm doing a research paper over the summer, and I have this list of resources I'm supposed to check..."
          "Oh certainly, I can help you with that!"  It's all I can do not to giggle at the sigh of relief she barely tries to keep out of her voice.  "Here, now, let's go over to the counter there, and I'll look these right up.  Mr. Sarasota, always good to have a chat with you - do excuse us?"
          "Saturday night at seven?"  Can't help but admire his tenacity, and eternal optimism!
          "I'll certainly try my best! But you know how it is around here..."  We're already halfway across the room toward the counter.  "...where we have angelic friends to come to our rescue," she mutters, winking at me.
          I grin back.  "Anytime."
          Circling around to get to her accustomed spot behind the counter, Mary pulls over a Rolodex and pretends to scrutinize it.  "So, is there anything I can actually help you with, or were you just stopping by to be my personal savior?"
          "Mostly, I needed some fresh air and comic relief in my day, so you've helped immensely already.  But while I'm here, anything new on the Masons reach your ears lately?"
          "Hmm.  I don't think so, no - though I know the society crew is keeping a sharp eye out for you.  Oh!  But you know, I do have something for you!  At least I think I do.  You didn't happen to pick up any prints from the photo show at the gallery, did you?"
          My heart plummets.  "No, you know, and I'd really wanted to, but I was pretty sick the day I was over there, and had to leave in a bit of a hurry."
          Mary beams.  "Wonderful!  I mean, not that you were ill, dear - you're feeling all right now?  Good.  Or I'd have to send you over to Ralphie to have you pass it on to him."  Her head has disappeared as she rummages through what I imagine are shelves on her side of hte counter.  "Here we are!"  She pops back up, and lays two large beautiful quality prints on the counter (a little larger than eight-by-ten inches, must be eleven-by-something).
          "Evelyn!" I cry out happily, beaming as I lift the image of her standing by the fountain to take a better look.  Which reveals the second image - and my heart stops as I recognize Meres' face.  But no, thank God, it's not the heartbreaking photo that was shown at the gallery, it's the one I first saw at Town Hall.  He stands firm and proud, his gaze confident and assured, his hand not trembling, his back not bowed.  "Ohh... Oh Mary, thank you for saving these for me!  The quality is amazing, how did ou get such sharp reproductions?"
          "Well, first of all, miracle-worker though I am, I didn't accomplish this one.  I can barely manage to Xerox without breaking something or someone.  But the young man we worked with on a lot of the photos for that show did these.  He's an expert on old photographic processes, and printed these fresh from the original plates."  My eyes must have bugged out at this, because she laughs.  "Really!  They turned up in storage with some of the Reese family not long ago, and we'd been itching to have someone knowledgable get a look at them.  Anyway, Brandon said most were in really great shape - but then, the Reese folks have always done so well at archiving and storing things properly.  So Brandon went through and made prints for the show, and a few extra to try and sell to raise money for us, and another few extra because I batted my lashes and said pretty please."  She clasps her hands beneath her chin and bats said eyelashes at me in a vain attempt at winsomeness that sends us both into giggles.
          "But here I'm prattling, when what we should be doing, is gazing at this beautiful, beautiful man.  Good God what a nineteenth-century hunk."
          "Susan told me you'd like him."
          "Who wouldn't?? But 'like' is not at all an adequate word, honey.  Don't think you're the only one who gets to hang a copy of this picture on her bedroom wall."  Setting her elbows on the counter and chin in her hands, she gazes starry-eyed at the photo.  I shake my head a little, but join her anyway, because he is gorgeous, and it's such a rich clear print... and Mary's gushing has, for the moment, shaken off the weight of my recent thoughts of him.
          "Susan also told me you think this is the first Mr. Mason, the one that built the place?"
          I nod, eyes still on the photo, trying to identify the flowers in the vase.  "Mm-hmm, it is.  His first name is Meres.  And I've learned some things that make me think he and Azal weren't actually brothers, though I'm not sure yet, I should see if I can find any records that would show if his last name was actually Mason, or if everyone just assumed it was..."
          "Azal?  Oh!  So you've figured out the 'A' of 'A.E. Mason'!  That's a relief, one of the random details we never did sort out."
          I give myself a mental shake, focusing on this world again.  I need to make sure I don't go blabbing things I wouldn't have any way of knowing!  But I guss I could've learned his name from a family tree, or someone in the family--- the family!  I clap a hand to my forehead.  Mary looks up at last from the photo.  "You okay?"
          "No.  Chronic case of scatter-brain.  I've had the phone number for what might be the Mason family historian, and here I've forgotten to call her.  Again."
          "Can I offer you a Post-it note?  I can tape it to your forehead if you'd like."  She's entirely deadpan earnest.  And I lose my shit.  We get funny looks from all kinds of people in the library.  (Okay, so there's like five people in here, but they're eyeballing us with the force of a thousand.)
          "I should... I should probably go," I finally manage, trying to catch my breath.  "Need to get home before dark."
          "You know it's three in the afternoon."
          "Yes but I want to get home and ogle my pretty pictures in private, just pretend my excuse made sense.  What do I owe you for these?"
          "Any and all juicy tidbits you learn about this dashing mystery man.  Make some up if you want, as long as they're flattering I'll be thrilled."
          "No, really."
          "Really!  Brandon's a big-hearted history geek like the rest of us, he wouldn't take a cent from us for any of these.  Said it was payment enough to get to work with such beautiful images, you know the sort.  We're all that sort.  Come to our meeting next week, we're making him a member of our cult, and you can thank him yourself."
          "If the holy work schedule allows, I certainly shall.  Thank you again, so much, these are an absolute treasure."
          "Oh, wait!  Before you go.  ...write down that name?  I've forgotten it already, it's so unusual."
          I laugh and write it down for her, in the prettiest script I can manage.  Which wouldn't hold a candle to Evelyn's or Meres', but still makes me feel a little closer to them.

          I spend a few more of my free hours over in the gardens during the following week, and am almost relieved to not see anything of the Masons.  I've been missing Evelyn, but so much has happened lately, and I understand it all so little, that I'm grateful to not have anything new to add to the soup of information bubbling around in my head.  I've called Sylvia, at Anna's recommendation, but she's out of town for a few weeks.  I did call Rosemary too, but there was no answer - and I seem to only remember to try again when I'm out of the apartment.
          I've weeded more of the flower beds, and done a little pruning and re-wrapping of vines on trellises.  There are the most gorgeous late-summer climbing roses blooming right now, mounds of ivory blooms with such fragrant petals.  I'm sure things will taper off once fall sets in, but this summer has been absolutely glorious.  Still, I itch to be able to replant some of the things that I know have died away over the long years since the Masons were here, and piece back together the garden as it once was, as it should be.  (Though that said, I'm starting to wonder if Meres put some kind of spell on things - trees and things can live over a hundred years, but roses? I'm sure many of the plants reseeded themselves and aren't anywhere near that old, but still.)
          One day I felt extraordinarily brave, and climbed into the basin of the main fountain after pulling some vines off the main column.  It hadn't rained in a few weeks (I'd actually carried a gallon of water over with me to give a few plants I'd noticed struggling), so the muck was dry at least.  I had a small shovel with me, and wore my gloves - and if there had been any dead fish, they were long gone, or totally encased in the dense layers of dead leaves I flung out of the empty pool.  The sun was nearly setting by the time I'd worked my way around the entire basin, but when I finally hopped out and took a look - I felt pretty darn satisfied with myself.  Still wish I could get it running again... but it looks a little more like itself now.
          Walking leisurely along the paths one overcast day, I think I've finally covered all of the garden's grounds.  Though it's hard to be sure, I know so many paths have been overgrown in the long years since it was last tended, and I'm sure the woods have encroached further into the grounds too.  Some of the paths I've managed to uncover despite being hidden, from what I remember seeing of the gardens on my trips back, and in a couple cases from photos I'd taken.  I've kicked dead leaves and debris clear of a good portion of the still-colorful tilework, but I really should come back with a rake one of these days.  I wonder if there was a garden shed anywhere, I doubt they would have kept such tools in the house.
          The carriage house!  I never did look for it.  I know it was a ways off from the main house - I never saw it from any of the windows, and anyway, that class of family wouldn't have kept stables within smelling distance of the house.  So it likely survived the fire just fine, I'm sure it's falling down with decay by now, but there will be something still there at least.
          The sun peaks out for a minute, bringing to life the colors of the Turkish tiles underfoot.  I grin as the song in my ears erupts at the same moment: "Say my name, as every color illuminates. We are shining, and we will never be afraid again..."  I half-jog, half-dance my way up along the path, heading toward the front of the house.  I'll follow the main drive from there as it curls around the edge of the clearing, it's got to have connected to the carriage house at some point.  I've walked along portions of it before, but it fades in and out among the trees, so I'm sure I haven't actually followed its full length yet.
          I slow as I reach the remnants of the mansion's foundations.  I step into its bounds where, I think, the back door leading to the kitchen was, where Jacob invited me in out of the rain.