The Stroke of Winter, page 22
Her mouth dropped open. “This is amazing,” she said. “Oh, Wyatt, I can’t believe this.”
“I thought you might enjoy it,” Wyatt said, grinning. “Come on! Let’s snag one of those firepits for our picnic and then grab a drink.”
They trudged their way to one of the firepits and laid claim to a hay bale with Wyatt’s backpack and then headed over to the ice bar. Wyatt snapped the dogs off their leashes, and they ran together, jumping and playing in the snow, nearly unable to contain their joy. The feeling washed over Tess and worked its way inside of her, straight to her heart.
As they got closer to the ice bar, Tess saw that the bundled-up bartender was Grant.
“Hey, man,” Wyatt said to him, bumping mittened fists together.
“Hey, you two,” Grant said. “Tess, is this your first time out here?”
“Yes, and wow. This is so amazing,” she said.
“Grant is one of the organizers of this winter park on the lake,” Wyatt said. “Wharton Wonderland, they call it.”
“Gotta take advantage of the season,” Grant said. “We’re going to be lighting the tree this weekend. Santa’s coming for the kids. Fun and games for them. The whole town comes out.”
He pulled off his mitten to reveal a slim glove and reached under the bar for two shot glasses, both made of ice, and a bottle of schnapps.
“Here’s some fun and games for adults,” he said, grinning. “In honor of your first time in our Wharton Wonderland, this one’s on me.” He poured the schnapps into the glasses. “In fact,” he said, producing a glass for himself, “I’ll join you.”
They held their glasses aloft. Tess caught Wyatt’s eye and said, “Happy days.”
Wyatt cleared his throat, his eyes glistening. “Happy days.”
The three of them clinked glasses and downed the schnapps. Not Tess’s usual drink of choice, but somehow, out here in the cold, it seemed like just the right thing. It slid down her throat and warmed her from the inside out.
“Some wine with our lunch?” Wyatt asked.
Tess grinned. “You may have to carry me out of here, but sure.”
“Oh, the dogs will pull you,” he said. “No problem.”
Grant chuckled as he poured wine into two plastic cups and popped lids on them. “Hey, I hear we may be doing some ghost hunting at your place later,” he said to her.
“Oh?” Tess said. “You’re part of Jane’s crew?”
“I am,” Grant said. “I do a little bit of everything around here. Jane does the woo-woo spirit stuff. I get the recordings on video.”
Tess smiled at him. What an interesting, quirky fellow, she thought. She and Wyatt made their way back to their hay bales and settled down onto them, the dogs curling up at their sides.
Tess felt the warmth of the fire on her face, not too hot, but enough to take the edge off sitting in the cold. Or maybe it was the schnapps, she wasn’t sure. She snuggled the heavy, fleecy wool blanket around her—it looked as though a sheep had just been sheared and she was surrounded by its wool.
Wyatt unzipped his backpack, produced their baguette sandwiches, and handed one to Tess.
As she unwrapped her baguette, she thought about the fact she had never been on a winter picnic. How could that be?
She had lived in the Twin Cities all her life—a place famous for its long, cold winters. Getting through those below-zero temperatures in style was a source of pride for Minnesotans. Every year, the capitol city of Saint Paul held its Winter Carnival in the middle of downtown, which featured concerts, activities, and an ice-sculpting contest. Its twin city, Minneapolis, just across the river, held its Holidazzle Parade, featuring lighted floats that made their way down Nicollet Mall, made famous by the intro to The Mary Tyler Moore Show.
In Duluth, just down the lake’s shoreline from Wharton, there was Bentleyville, which had grown out of one man’s light display in his own yard into a twinkling wonderland that people walked through in the city’s Bayfront Park.
People bundled up and enjoyed winter in this part of the world. And yet Tess had never done much of it herself.
“Wyatt, this is perfect,” she said, taking a bite of her sandwich. “What a wonderful day. So much fun.”
“I thought you might like it,” he said, his face softening. “I hoped you would.”
“We have to come back for the tree lighting this weekend.”
We. She hoped she hadn’t coupled them too soon.
“Oh, for sure,” Wyatt said. “It really is a lot of fun. Like Grant said, most everyone who is still in town comes out for it.”
The weekend seemed a world away to Tess. There was a lot to get through between now and then.
“Do you think all of this will be over then?” she asked, wincing.
“This business at your house, you mean?”
Tess took a sip of her wine. “Yeah. I just want things to be back to normal. I’m hoping that by the weekend . . .”
“You can count on it,” Wyatt said.
Tess wasn’t sure where he got his confidence, but she made the choice to go with it, at least for the moment. And this moment was perfect. She wasn’t about to let worry about what may or may not happen in the future—even just hours in the future—mar the beauty of this bright, sunny day, as she sat with the man she was rapidly falling for, watching the dogs run and play like puppies, and feeling the cool sting of winter on her cheeks.
Finished with their sandwiches and wine, it was time to go. Tess hated to leave their hay bale and the crackling fire, but La Belle Vie awaited them. She took a deep breath and got to her feet, ready to face whatever they might find.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
They stopped at Wyatt’s to drop off the snowshoes, and once inside, he turned to her.
“I thought I might come with you,” Wyatt said, peeling off his jacket. “If that’s okay. If you’re not sick of me yet.”
“I was hoping you would,” she said. “I guess I was assuming you would, actually. I really don’t want to face whatever Jane and her crew have up their sleeves alone.”
“In that case, I have another idea,” he said. “We should leave the dogs here. I don’t think we want them at the house with the ghostbusters. In fact, I’m all but sure Jane would rather they weren’t there.”
Tess thought back to the barking in the studio the night before, how they attacked an unseen enemy. “You’re probably right,” she said.
“I’m going to dash upstairs and take a quick shower and put on some dry clothes,” he said. “I won’t be long. Make yourself at home.”
Tess smiled at him. “I’ll feed the dogs,” she said.
“Perfect,” he said over his shoulder as he scurried out of the room.
He was back in the kitchen in record time, and soon they were walking back to La Belle Vie.
“Let’s hope we don’t see a figure in the studio window like we did last night,” Tess said with a grin, threading her arm through his.
“If we do, that’s okay,” Wyatt said. “That guy’s time haunting your house is running out.”
Back in her own kitchen, Tess heated the tea kettle and poured them both steaming cups. The house held a certain emptiness, a quietness, Tess noticed.
“It’s odd to be here without Storm,” she said, looking down at his dishes.
“I get that,” Wyatt said. “They’re a lot of company, dogs. Aren’t they?”
“The best,” she said.
Now it was her turn to dash upstairs to the shower, though she wished she could take a long bath. Headed up the back stairs, an uneasiness fell around her. She glanced down the hall toward the studio and could feel a sort of radiating energy pulsing from it. Or could she? Was that just a product of her overactive imagination? She wasn’t sure. But she got the feeling the house, or whatever otherworldly spirits were haunting it, could sense what was coming. Maybe they were preparing.
As she stepped into the shower stream, she hoped not.
Twilight had fallen over Wharton, turning the sky into its familiar pinks and purples. The snow glistened in the soft light. Tess had brewed a pot of tea and was just pouring cups for herself and Wyatt when her house phone rang.
She crossed the room to answer it and put the handset to her ear. She heard a crackling sound, like what you’d hear on a recording of a radio broadcast from long ago. In the distance, Tess could hear talking, a frantic, intense conversation between a man and a woman. But she couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. Just snippets, words here and there.
Stop. It’s the right thing. And shriller: What are you doing? Who are you?
“Hello?” she said. “Who is this?”
More muffled conversation, more frantic-sounding voices. Sirens, then. Clear, clear, clear. And then, one booming male voice filled Tess’s ear, and her mind.
Let it go, Amethyst, the voice said. She recognized that voice. Or thought she did.
“Dad?” Tess asked, her own voice sounding very small. She and Wyatt shared a worried glance. “Dad? Where are you?”
Amethyst, you need to promise me you’re going to let it go. He sounded like he was talking from inside a tin can. Or a tunnel, as his voice reverberated and bounced off the sides.
“Dad, what’s going on?”
The line went dead.
Tess replaced the handset, the action feeling as though it occurred in slow motion. Or she was moving through water.
“What was that all about?” Wyatt said. “Was it your dad?”
Tess didn’t bother to answer. She turned back to the phone and dialed her parents. It rang once, twice, three times. Four.
“You’ve reached us. Sorry we’re not here to take your call. Please leave a message.”
“Mom, Dad, you need to call me right away,” she said, her voice wavering. “It’s not an emergency. I’m fine and Eli’s fine, the paintings are fine, but I need to hear from you just as soon as possible. It’s important.” She was about to hang up when she said, “I love you guys.”
Wyatt had gotten up from the table and was at Tess’s side. “What just happened?”
She turned to him and let him take her in his arms. She leaned her head on his chest.
“You’re shaking,” he said, rubbing her back.
Tears came, then. She tried to brush them away, but they were too strong. It was helplessness and frustration, too much for her to contain. She stood there and sobbed in Wyatt’s arms, as he held her and rubbed her back. He didn’t try to fix whatever was wrong. Didn’t even ask again. He just held her and gave her a safe space to let out the abject, primal fear that had formed into her tears.
She took a deep breath. “I think I need a tissue,” she said, her words swimming, no, drowning, in those tears.
No tissue in sight, Wyatt grabbed the roll of paper towels on the counter. This small gesture brought a chuckle to Tess’s lips. “Yeah, I might need all of these after that,” she said, peeling one off the roll and blowing her nose.
Tess sighed and sank down into her armchair. Only then did she realize her legs were shaking and might have buckled under her had Wyatt not held her up. He sat on the footstool in front of her.
“Can you tell me what happened? Is everything okay with your parents?” His face was a mask of concern and worry.
She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve been trying to call them off and on today. It always goes to voice mail. I didn’t think anything of it, but this phone call just now . . .”
“Who was it?”
“That’s the thing,” she said. “It sounded like my dad. But it was so strange, like he was calling from another century or something. You know those old radio broadcasts you’ve heard of something like FDR announcing the only thing we have to fear is fear itself? Which”—she blew her nose again—“I’ve never understood because we were in the Depression, and people didn’t have food to eat or any means and were losing everything—”
Wyatt couldn’t stifle his grin at this.
“But, anyway, it sounded like that. Crackly. Thin. First, I heard voices. I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. But it sounded sort of frantic. Tense. Like they were arguing. But then someone else got on the line. Someone louder. It sounded like my dad. He said, ‘Let it go, Amethyst.’” She could barely get the words out. “You need to promise me you’ll let it go.”
She buried her face in her paper towel and let out another sob.
Wyatt was shaking his head. “I don’t know what to tell you about that, Tess.”
“I do.” It was Jane, standing in the doorway. “I hope you don’t mind, but you didn’t hear me knocking,” she said. “I saw you were upset, and I just let myself in.”
Tess nodded, slightly dazed. “No, that’s perfectly okay. Please—” She motioned to the kitchen table. Jane peeled off the shawl she had wrapped around her shoulders and took a seat.
“I heard what you said about the call,” Jane said. “I think you should contact your son and see if he’s heard from your parents.”
A darkness overcame Tess, then. “Why?” she managed to say.
“From what I heard, I think you received a spirit call.”
Tess gave Wyatt the side-eye. “Spirit call?”
Jane nodded. “They’re actually quite common,” she said. “Spirits—ghosts, if you will—somehow can use and manipulate electricity.”
Tess had actually heard of that before. “Okay.”
“And your landline is one of those perfect vehicles for communication from the other side,” Jane went on. “You said there was static on the call, right?”
“Right,” Tess said.
“And it sounded like they were talking from far away, even in a tunnel?”
“Exactly.”
“That’s a classic call from the other side,” Jane said. “Textbook.”
“But what are you saying? If it was my dad . . .”
“She’s not saying that, Tess,” Wyatt interjected. “Are you, Jane?”
“It’s possible,” she said. “Or it could’ve been someone else. It was a male, I’m assuming, right? And he knew your name?”
Tess’s eyes began filling up with tears. “That was my first thought,” she said. “It was my dad. I called my parents just now, and they didn’t answer. It went to voice mail.”
Nobody said anything for a moment.
Tess stood up and went back to the phone. She picked up the handset and dialed.
“Hi, Mom,” Eli said.
Tess took a deep breath, to steady herself. “Hi, sweetie!” she said, a little too brightly. “I’m just wondering if you’ve heard from Grandma and Papa today at all.”
“Uh, no,” he said. “Why?”
She looked at Wyatt and shook her head. “Oh, no reason. I’ve just been trying to call them and haven’t been able to get a hold of them all day.”
Eli chuckled. “Payback for all of the times they worried about you when you were a teenager,” he said.
“I guess you’re right,” Tess said, pushing her hair behind her ear. “Okay, honey, I’ll let you go. If you hear from them, call me. Okay?”
“Wait,” Eli said. “Are you actually worried? I mean, should I do something?”
“No, no,” Tess said, trying her best to keep her voice from wavering. “They’re probably just at a double feature or playing cards with friends or at a museum. There’s always something going on in their building.”
“Okay,” Eli said. “But call or text me when you hear from them, will you?”
“I will,” Tess said. “And you do the same. Hey—are you still planning to come up on the weekend?”
“Yeah,” he said. “If that’s still cool with you.”
Tess looked from Wyatt to Jane. “I hope it will be.”
She could almost feel her son’s confusion wafting through the phone.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, nothing,” she said, quickly. “Just the renovations. But there’s a winter festival next weekend that you might like. There’s an ice bar on the lake!”
“For real?”
“For real. I went there today. It’s fun. They have firepits, too.”
“Firepits on frozen Lake Superior sound like a recipe for disaster, Mom,” Eli said. “What kind of genius thought that up?”
Tess couldn’t help but chuckle. “Those are on the shore, smart guy,” she said. “I love you, honey.”
“Love you, too, Mom.”
Just that little moment of normalcy, talking to her funny, adorable boy, calmed Tess from the inside out. She put down the phone and turned to Wyatt and Jane.
“He hasn’t heard from them, either,” she said. “But I’m not going to panic. We don’t know what that phone call was, really, or who was on the other end of the line. And if my parents were in any kind of trouble, if my dad was in the hospital or, God forbid, worse than that, my mom would have called me immediately.”
“That’s right,” Wyatt said.
“I say, let’s focus on the task at hand,” Tess said. “Eli is coming up here this weekend, and I don’t want my boy hearing any disembodied voices. Jane, what is this operation going to entail, and when will the rest of the crew get here?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Tess opened it to find Grant and Hunter standing there. She was expecting Grant, but Hunter was a surprise addition to the group.
“Hi, guys,” she said, opening the door wide. “Welcome back. Come on in.”
Tess gave Wyatt a worried glance. They had already determined that Grant and Hunter were the only two other people who might know about the paintings . . . and the only real-world explanation for what had been happening around the house. And now here they were, to help with the ghost hunting? It set off Tess’s radar.
The two of them tramped in, taking off their coats and boots. Both had brought shoes to wear inside—they knew the drill. Grant was carrying a heavy black hard-shelled case and set it on the kitchen table with a thud.
