Charon's Crossing

"But you didn't," Kathryn said, stuffing the prescriptions into her pocket.

Simpson took her arm and walked her slowly to the door.

"No. I didn't."

"Do you mind telling me the reason?"

He laughed, and a light flush spread over his cheeks.

"It was my wife, actually. Sally said if I moved into Charon's Crossing, it would be by myself."

"But why?"

"I was born and raised in the States, Miss Russell. Sally... well, she's from Elizabeth Island."

"So?"

"So, she flatly refused to live in a house she said was haunted."

Kathryn swung towards him. "But you're a physician. Couldn't you convince her it wasn't true?"

Simpson paused, his hand on the doorknob, and gave her an embarrassed smile.

"Actually," he said, "I couldn't convince myself."

* * *

Was everybody on this island insane?

All the way back to Charon's Crossing, that was all she could think about.

Did they all believe there was a ghost in her house?

There wasn't. Hell, no. This was just a case of-f-of mass hysteria, like the Salem witch hunts or all those little kids in California who'd convinced themselves and everyone else that their teachers had dug secret tunnels under their classroom and spirited them off to heaven only knew where for God only knew what...

Ghosts.

"Ghosts," Kathryn snorted.

It would be a cold day in hell before she joined the ranks of those who thought she'd inherited not just a house but a spirit.

By the time she pulled up at the front door, she had gone from irritation to anger. She stormed out of the car, up the front steps, and threw open the door.

Legs slightly apart, hands on her hips, she glared at the wide staircase. The late afternoon light lent it an eerie look; the steps seemed to end in yawning blackness.

Kathryn hesitated for a moment. Maybe this wasn't so smart. Maybe...

Maybe, nothing!

"Okay," she said loudly, "Okay, here I am. And here's your chance. If there's anything or anybody here, come out and show yourself."

Silence filled the room.

"Come on, if you're up there. Listen, I'm from New York. I know all about street people. So if you moved in a while back, I won't be angry. Just come on down, walk out the door, and we'll forget this ever happened."

More silence. Kathryn took a deep breath.

"And—and if there's anything else up there..." What was she doing? This was ridiculous. It was crazy. But so what? There was nobody here to see her make an ass of herself. "If there's anything else hanging around," she said, her voice loud and clear, "it's time you took off, too." The wind had blown her hair around her face in wild, tumbling waves. She tossed her head and it fell back over her shoulders. "Not that I believe in ghosts, you understand. But everybody else here does, so I'm just going with the flow. There's the door. Come down, walk out, and don't come back."