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Five more minutes,” she muttered, refusing to acknowledge the
feeling of desperation and loss crawling into her gut. The five
minutes came and went with the sun basking the area in a golden
glow. Juliana straightened from the tree and walked to the centre
of the clearing. She turned around slowly in place. What had
happened? She shaded her eyes against the dying rays of the ball of
fire in the sky. The more the sun set, the more the feeling of
desolation settled around her heart.
    She
inhaled deeply, the sigh whooshing out of her slowly. Self-doubt
plagued her. Could Simon have been a dream? A break from reality
her mind had conjured to pull her from the brink of possible
insanity? If that was the case, then whatever force watched over
her had succeeded. The dead had to remain in the realm they had
entered and the living carried on, slowly allowing life around them
to permeate their existence with the good that still remained in
the world. It wasn’t Juliana’s time yet to join the dead in their
journey, whether that was Brody’s or Simon’s. Hers was to help
them. To remember them.
    To love
them.
    Juliana
hadn’t realized that tears had made its way slowly down her cheeks
until she sniffed.
    She
looked at the documents she held in her arms. Her eyes fell on
Simon’s name in the news clipping before she brought the papers to
her chest, resigned to the fact that she would never see Simon
again. He must have found a way to move on.
    And she
hadn’t been able to say goodbye.
    She
closed her eyes, the wealth of pain tightening her chest. She let
out a deep sigh.
    “ Rest in peace, Simon,” she said softly.
    Then she
walked away from the grove for the last time.

Chapter Seven
     
     
     
    The
radio blared The Calling’s ‘Wherever you will go’ as Juliana’s car
came to a stop. She got out and beeped the car door locked before
walking towards the bungalow’s door. The thin dusting of snow on
the roof of her car, on the pavement, and on the leafless branches
of the trees flanking the off-road parking belied the coldly bitter
December morning. Several weeks had passed since her ghostly
encounter. She would have wanted to relegate it into the recesses
of her mind except that her manager had asked her to take over the
Dorothy Mellor case after the original case manager left to migrate
to Australia. Seeing Juliana’s keen interest in Dorothy’s story, it
was but natural to for her to see the case to its
completion.
    She had
previously called several times prior to arriving at the quaint
house but no one had answered until she decided to send Dorothy
Mellor’s descendant a letter. Another case manager had taken the
message for Juliana from Dorothy’s great-great-grandson. He agreed
to meet with her the following day. From her notes, Juliana knew
that he was a professor of History. He had requested that they meet
before he left for the university.
    She rang
the bell, hearing it softly chime inside the house. She looked at
the street while waiting, her breath coming out in short smoky
puffs. The centre of Manchester was different from where she was
now, in the Pennines, where it snowed often. She sniffed, feeling
the wetness on the tip of her nose. She fished some Kleenex from
her coat pocket just as she heard the doorknob turn. Expecting to
see the professor, her eyes rounded slightly in surprise when she
saw an old lady with the warmest smile.
    “ Yes?”
    Juliana’s heart made a double thump. The woman resembled
Dorothy Lowe’s picture. She almost couldn’t contain her excitement.
There was no doubt now that this woman was Simon’s
descendant.
    “ Good morning.” Juliana greeted her. “I have an appointment
with Professor Dominic Mellor?”
    “ You must be from the heir company,” the woman replied beaming.
She shuffled out of the way. “Come in! It must be freezing out
there.”
    “ Thank you.” Juliana said grateful for the warmth of the
house.
    “ My grandson will be with you in a minute,” she