Dead Living (Spirit Caller Book 5) Read Free Page A

“Nan” by looking after us).
    I wasn’t related to Mrs. Saunders, and I certainly didn’t know her as long as some of my neighbours, but I cared about her. Now knowing her history and knowing Dema was protecting Mrs. Saunders made me respect her all the more. She had lived a long, good life—and, yes, I do believe killing her best friend’s rapist is a good thing, thank you very much—and she deserved to be pampered and looked after in her twilight years.
    And, on a selfish note, her kitchen table was one of the few places I could go where the other left me the hell alone. Mrs. Saunders could’ve been the devil herself and I’d probably still visit just to get away from the crazy.
    I ducked around my woodpile and crossed the grassy field between our houses. The wind was blowing hard today, and my eyes watered. I had to turn my head away from the gale to catch my breath. I loved Wisemen’s Cove, but I could sure do with less wind. I couldn’t even rely on trees since the poor trees grew horizontal here, forming the island’s famous tuckamores. Sure, they were pretty, but they didn’t help brace against the wind.
    I knocked on the wooden door and walked in, not bothering to wait for an invitation. That’s how things were done in Wisemen’s Cove. It was rude, in fact, to expect the homeowner to get up from whatever they were doing to come greet you at the door. Who did you think you were? The Queen of England? Take off your boots, and come on in. That was the motto of the place.
    You can see why I loved it here. Well, that, and Jeremy, Mrs. Saunders, all of my friends, and the quiet acceptance that I could be myself. But the knocking-on-the-door thing was a big part of the acceptance.
    “Mrs. Saunders!” I called out, walking into the tiny porch. I pulled off my rubber boots and walked into the 70s style kitchen. “Oh, hey, Amy! I didn’t know you were here. Your car isn’t outside.”
    “I walked, my love,” Amy said. “That doctor got me doing all kinds of foolishness.”
    Amy was a large woman in her fifties, with a big smile and a thick Newfoundland accent. Well, she used to have a thick accent. Nowadays, it just all sounded…normal.
    Well, except when they said things like “barmp.” As in, “He barmped his horn.” As opposed to the more common, “He honked his horn.” But, beyond unique words that made no goddamn sense, I didn’t really notice much about their accents anymore.
    “How goes the no smoking?” I asked as I walked over to the sink to begin washing the few small plates and mugs that had built up.
    “It’s why I’m walking,” Amy said. “It keeps my mind off the smokes.”
    “Maid, leave those be,” Mrs. Saunders scolded me.
    “Is that gin in your mug?” I asked her, a big grin on my face.
    “I needs something to make this skim milk taste good,” she said in her mock-offended voice. But, she didn’t argue anymore as I filled the sink with a bit of warm water to wash her dishes.
    “Have you told her yet, Nan?” Amy asked.
    “Told who what?” I interjected as I rinsed a mug with a cross and the words JESUS LIVES in big, bold letters around the top rim.
    Mrs. Saunders drew in a deep breath and said, “There’s something I needs to tell you, Rachel.”
    I didn’t like the tone of her voice. I put the small plate into the strainer and dried off my hands. I leaned against the sink, still holding the dishcloth, and asked, “Is everything all right?”
    She was ninety-four years old. At her age, even a head cold could be lethal. I needed to prepare myself.
    It was Amy who answered. “Nan wants to sell the house and move in with me.”
    Okay, so not cancer, but nevertheless my stomach dropped. “Are you sick?”
    “My dear, I’m ninety-four years old. Of course I’m sick.”
    I smiled at that. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, why now?”
    Mrs. Saunders waved off my concern. “It’s hard livin’ here by myself, with you and Amy doing everything for