Parts 16-19

[went out one night with friends, then had migraines the next two days, thus the no writing... but I hate not having my post-titles line up with the dates. ;p ]


      “You must be very careful when in that garden. Take someone with you if you can, or at least leave word with someone about where you are. It's very, very rare, that a spirit will cause someone physical harm, but you can never be too careful. If you have that feeling again, you must leave the area at once.”
      I nod solemnly, inwardly sighing in frustration. How can I find out more, if all I can do is run away? “Is... is there anything I can do about it? Do you think it's something that needs to be set right there, or something?”
      Anna shakes her head slowly. “Quite possibly, but the spirits in that place have had a very long time to fester in their emotions. It would be very difficult to find out what they're after... easy as the ghost hunter shows on TV make it look, it can take months of intense research to find out what a spirit wants. And even then, it's not always enough – sometimes, the spirits just want to hold on to their anger.” She sighs, and settles back in her chair, spreading her hands in a gesture of having nothing to offer. “I wish your first experience with that gray realm could have been a happier one, Kimber. There are so many good and helpful spirits, that watch us, and wish us well.”
      I smile a little. “You did say there was more than one around me, right? Maybe she'll watch out for me yet.”
      Anna smiles as well. “That is true. Now that's not to say that you shouldn't be careful, because you should, always. But that is true... it seemed a quiet, faint spirit, but who knows. The fact that they are both near you means there must be some kind of connection there. Had you any indication of them before you visited the garden?”
      I shake my head emphatically. “No, not at all... and I don't really sense anything outside of the garden, even now. I mean, I can remember the visions I had exceptionally well, but other than that, there's nothing unusual outside of the fence.”
      “Well, do keep your senses open – it's quite likely their power in this world is weaker away from the place they're tied to. Still, they may well present themselves elsewhere.”
      Anna gets to her feet, and I realize my half-hour is over. I stand as well, and she shakes my hand warmly. “Now, if you have any further questions, or need any other assistance in this, feel entirely free to give me a call.”
      I smile warmly back. “I will, thank you so much for all your help.”

      Once I'm back home, I sit down with my vision-drawings. The one of the boy is basically done, though I'm still adding a few touches here and there. The fountain, I refused to let myself work on after that one day – it was meant to be a freer, more emotionally-driven work, something expressive, not technically perfect. I have a few sketches of Cora, but I can't find a composition I like. The expression on her face was so tender and poignant... and struck such a contrast with the yellow of her dress, the flowers and sunlight around her. While the contrast would be a nice thing, it's also hard to make the two opposite emotions cooperate in a single drawing, it just feels like I plopped the character into an arbitrary background.
      What I'm longing to do, is a drawing of the couple I saw at the fountain. I have a few sketches, one of him cradling her in his arms, and one of her leaning over toward the fish in the fountain, with him looking on... But I didn't get a close enough look at either of them. The man, I nearly did, even though it was at a distance, I somehow got a really good sense of his features. But the woman... I can draw her hair, but not much else. I have a composition in my head, of her leaning over toward the fish, him at her shoulder, the view close-up with warm, rich colors and details... But I don't have the details here to work with.
      Sighing, I rough out the composition on a large sheet of paper anyway. I'll fill in what I can, at least. I can get reference images from my own photos for the fountain, and I'm sure I can find some pictures of the fish on the internet – some kind of goldfish, maybe koi, shouldn't be too hard to find something close. The faces... I'll just have to see if a future vision of the past gives me something more to go on.

      Several days later, I'm deep in thought on my walk back to the garden. I live a pretty solitary existence outside of work, so if something bad does happen to me... it's going to be like a day before someone notices. I have, at least, told a few coworkers, and my parents as well, that my days off are mostly spent poking around the old garden. (My mom thinks it sounds like a nice, romantic spot, but that it's a little morbid to hang around there so much. My dad doesn't get it either, but given how few of his hobbies other people “get”, he's pretty tolerant of other people's oddities.) And I have made an effort to remember to bring my cell phone with me. (I'm just a few years older than the generation that has their phones on them every second of every day. My friends and I had them, but, not like the kids do now. I text almost as slowly as my parents would.)
      I'd kind of like to borrow somebody's great big dog to take along on trips like this, but... I remember the reaction of that one dog I saw, how it wouldn't come near, and how Anna's cats all disappeared when she connected with the spirits attached to me.
      That, and I don't know anyone with a big friendly dog that I could borrow.
      But those spirits... I've been trying not to think about the fact that they're attached to me somehow. It's a really odd feeling, like I have kites tied to my shoulders or something. Or like someone's always looking over my shoulder, every minute of every day. But I know it's not like that – I have no actual connection to these people, I just happen to walk around the place where they lived. So I'm sure they have other concerns besides me. Cora probably spends most of her days making sure the roses are blooming nicely, flicking any bugs away from the leaves. No, actually, she must go and find a servant's ghost, from what little I know of her I can't imagine her deigning to touch something as grubby as a bug! I remember reading Little Women years ago, and how it was an absolute social disaster that Jo's gloves were stained with lemonade or tea or something, and it would have been as unforgivable to show up at the party with stained gloves as it was to show up without any gloves at all. Cora was wearing perfectly dainty little white gloves when I saw her... pretty sure there was even a bit of lace at the wrists.
      I wonder if Cora was the quieter one that Anna saw? Was the man her husband, or, more likely I think, the man I saw... the man who also saw me. As addictive as his smoldering gaze was, I think I'd rather have the boy's ghost hanging around. He might play pranks, but at least he wouldn't try to kill me.
      I shudder as the thought crosses my mind – kill me? But I haven't done anything to harm the place... yes, I've trespassed into it, but wouldn't the ghosts want some company? And I did a bit of weeding... and more than that, I've been drawing the place, recalling the beauty that was apparently so dear to these people. And that, I think, should really be making them happy. I hope they follow me enough to see those drawings...
      I have my flower books with me today, and I'm determined to do some identifying. The handful of photos I've taken were largely good enough to use as references for drawing, but I didn't get pictures of everything, and I want to know the names anyway.

      Squirming beneath the fence (a process which does not, unfortunately, get easier with repetition), I haul myself into the garden. Standing up, I look around and take a deep breath. I have no idea what it is, but there's something... no, several things, I think, that smell absolutely heavenly. But before I go anywhere, I reach into my bag and pull out the field guide on flowers. (I left the larger book at home – I'll sketch out anything I can't identify with this one, and then check it in there.) The first thing my eyes fall on are the big grasses lining the creek bed. I ran into a lot of cattails growing up, but these look a little different. I'd flipped through the book to some degree at home, so I have a vague idea of how it's set up... and it's not terribly long before I find my plant.
      Reeds! These are reeds. Probably common reeds, Phragmites australis, though I'm not sure I'd be able to spot the differences. How cool! I grin and jot down a note in my sketchbook. I had pictures of these, but, it's good to have the name for reference. They can grow anywhere from six to like twenty feet! That's insane. The ones I'm looking at here are maybe five feet... but I suppose it's a little early in the season yet? And the winter winds would have wiped out any particularly tall stalks from last year.
      I decide to seek out the spots I've been trying to draw, to identify the plants there. I look around the creek bed a little more, but most things in this spot are still just masses of green leaves. I'm not that confident with my little book yet, I'll wait until the silly things flower. Next up is Cora's bench...
      And I breathe in deeply, again and again, as I approach the bench with its vine-covered trellis overhead. The trellis is still covered in the small golden-white honeysuckle blossoms, and their scent fills the warm early summer air. Walking closer, though, I see something smaller in bright bloom at the base of the trellis, outside of its shaded interior. Crouching down, I tenderly lift one of the flowers, which are perched on long, slender stems, the flower heads drooping down a little to the ground. A pale column of petals make up the center, and crayon-bold petals surround it... I know this is something I've seen before, but I never knew the name. Flipping through the book, I find that they're columbines. Columbines, I should have known that, I remember now that Grandma had them in her front yard, my sister and I loved to dissect the oddly-shaped flowers when we were little.
      Smiling at the memory, I'm half-tempted to pluck one of the flowers to play with... but Anna's warning holds me back, and I think I'd feel guilty anyway. As comfortable as this place is beginning to feel to me, the fact that the original owners are probably looking over my shoulder makes me a little nervous of making any change that isn't obviously for the better. Standing up, I can't help but look around, half-expecting to see someone there.
      I don't see any human shape, but I do see a little path that I hadn't seen before – it's mostly overgrown, but there are a few flagstones set into the ground beside the columbines. Picking my way carefully, pushing aside the rampant green growth of goodness-knows-what, I follow the path as it curls around behind the trellis. There are a freaking lot of plants, all huge and bushy and trying to keep me away from their nice clean air. But now that I'm in here, I'm determined to see where this little path goes. One of the plants is covered in thorns, and I gasp as it snags my wrist, drawing a bit of blood.
      “Damn you, vampire plant!”
      Eventually, I reach a bit of a clearing – there's a small pool, only four feet or so long, a couple feet across, vaguely oval in shape. It's only because of a frog plopping into it that I know there's any water though – the entire thing is covered in some plant, with thick rounded leaves, and spikes of light purple flowers... oh but they're really pretty! I kneel down at the water's edge, and look closer at the flowers. Short spikes covered in these delicate, pale lavender-blue flowers. I take a quick picture, then find a stick and poke gently at the plant's leaves. They're pretty much floating, it doesn't seem like they're attached at all – but the plants make an almost perfect covering on the water, without moving the leaves I wouldn't see the water at all.
      Looking up, I see that the little stone-paved clearing is surrounded by mounds of green, but that there are a few things blooming enough to catch my eye. A small tree, thin and spindly, looking rather old and tired, has surprisingly large white flowers on it... again, a flower I know I've seen before, though I'm not sure what it is. Four petals, oval with little notches cut out of the outside edge... oh! Dogwood! It doesn't look like the trees have a long lifespan, this one must be near its end. Its flowers are still so pretty, though it looks like it's costing the poor tree the last of its strength to bear them...
      I spend a few minutes in the little nook, mostly taking pictures of the dogwood. There's something rather sad and lonely about the tree, hidden away in this forgotten little corner... I keep looking for a bench or a little sculpture or something, but if there's anything here, it's lost under the vast branches and leaves of the overgrown plants.
      Walking around the edges of the little clearing, I peer as best I can below the plant growth, trying to see if there's a different path leading out. There appears to be a bit of space off to the left... but on closer inspection, it's only space around the stump of some dead plant, whose branches have broken away over the years, but whose roots must still be holding those of other plants at bay. Frowning a bit – I hate retracing my steps when I'm exploring, it feels so boring by comparison – I crouch down at the edge of the pool again, to tuck my camera and sketchbook safely back in my bag before braving the aggressive plants.
      Looking up, I see a young girl, standing on tip-toes by the dogwood tree. A large doll is in her arms – the two are wearing in matching dresses, pale blue with ruffles and bows, hats with large brims and matching blue ribbon.