Read Waiting Spirits for Free Online Page B

we’ll keep it to ourselves for the time being.”
    Lisa blinked in surprise. It wasn’t usual, at least in her experience, for grown-ups to hide things from one another. But she respected her grandmother, and was willing to do as she asked, despite how odd it seemed.
    A few minutes later Brian got up to go. He still looked somewhat shaky, and Dr. Miles wouldn’t let him leave until he had assured her that he felt solid enough to drive home.
    Lisa wondered if she would ever see him again.
    Lisa opened her eyes. The bedroom was dark. It was still the middle of the night.
    What had woken her?
    She lay still, listening, then shivered. It was that woman. She was crying again.
    Where was her voice coming from?
    Lisa glanced over at Carrie, who was sleeping peacefully next to her. No point in waking her.
    Lisa lay still, listening, and thinking. She wanted to go back to sleep herself. But she couldn’t, not with that woman’s sorrow penetrating her the way it did.
    Finally she slipped from between the sheets. Trying not to wake Carrie, she groped in the dark for her robe and slippers. She had a book of matches in her robe pocket, for the candle that rested on the table next to the bed. (One of the quaint touches her mother had added to the house.) She lit the candle and watched it sputter for a moment before settling into a clear, steady flame.
    â€œAll right,” she whispered. “Let’s see if we can find out what’s bothering you—whoever you are.”
    She crept into the hallway. Holding her robe closed with one hand, she lifted the candle with the other, so that it cast its light in a wider circle. She looked in both directions. Nothing in the hallway.
    She was frightened, of course. But it was not an overwhelming fear. And the fact that she was going to look for the voice gave her a sense of control that made her feel safer.
    She tiptoed along the passage, the thick carpet almost completely muffling the sound of her movements. She stopped at the other two bedrooms, listening intently for the crying. It did not come from behind either of those doors. Not that she had expected it to. But she had figured she should make sure.
    Several times she considered turning back. But the crying was so haunting, so compelling, that she couldn’t. It was clear that something was desperately wrong. Lisa felt the woman’s sorrow, felt a great compassion for the pain that caused her to weep so deeply. Somehow she had to help.
    She had always been that way. When she was only three she had been notorious for carrying caterpillars away from busy streets and chasing cats away from bird feeders. Her father often referred to her as “the bleeding heart of the Burton family.” He said it jokingly, but she knew he took a certain amount of pride in her compassion. It was that compassion that drove her on now, in the face of fear, along the empty hallway in search of the sobbing woman.
    When Lisa reached the end of the hall she stopped at the stairway that led to the first floor. Holding the candle before her she stood motionless, trying to see what was down the stairs. It was no use. Yet it seemed the the sobbing was definitely louder in that direction.
    Lisa tiptoed down the stairs, trying to move as quietly as a spirit herself. The candle shook in her trembling hand.
    The woman was on the couch in the living room. She had flung herself down so that her face was buried in the cushions. Her shoulders were shaking.
    Lisa could see the couch right through the woman’s body.
    Hesitantly, she took another step forward.
    The sobbing stopped, as if the woman had become aware of Lisa’s presence. For a moment she remained perfectly still.
    Then she turned and looked at Lisa.
    It was the same woman who had walked through their bedroom door the night before. Her hand flew to her mouth, as if she was terrified at seeing Lisa. Without a word, she vanished.
    Lisa stood for a moment. Then, feeling