[Not Just Any Other] Ghost Story

Chapter 21

Trigger Warning: Some readers may find the depiction of sexual assault in this chapter to be triggering. Please read at your own discretion.

Sarah and Caleb stood silently next to the Ouija board, the mutual looks on their faces echoing the same question. What the fuck did they get into?

Before either could find the proper words, the flap on the tent fluttered.

"What are you kids doing in here?" asked a woman dressed in a fortune teller's costume, complete with peasant skirt, beaded scarf and hoop earrings, as she barged in.

"Uh, nothing." Caleb snapped back to reality first and grabbed Sarah by the hand. "We were just leaving."

Outside, he draped his arm around her shoulder. "That was insane," he admitted with a nervous laugh. "So you really think this Arthur could have murdered some woman and then stuffed her behind a fireplace in that creepy house on the corner?"

"His wife," she said quietly as her eyes focused on the icy path beneath her feet. The going had definitely gotten more unsure while they'd been inside.

The boy flinched. "What? Was there something about her in those documents, too?"

Oh, how Sarah wished she'd found anything much less the woman's name, but thinking back on it, it really was a lot to ask. Of course, she never expected to see the classic typewriter font or even the elegant cursive scroll of letters spelling out Mabel. That was just Jane's best attempt at an old-timey name to fit her resident ghost. But there wasn't even a checked box for Arthur Tuffin's marital status to provide a clue.

She did suppose all of that was normal for an era when women rarely had their own identities, let alone co-owned property. No matter how annoying the omission, it was—unfortunately—expected.

Sarah took a deep breath, recalling the different scenarios she'd run through her head in the last few days. No, she definitely couldn't share all of them with Caleb for fear of sounding even more unhinged. He was still waiting for an answer, so picking the simplest would have to do.

"Educated guess, you know—since marriage was more or less expected back then. And once a woman was out of her parents' house, she was her husband's responsibility. So honestly, he could say anything to explain her disappearance," she said, the weight of his arm on her shoulder suddenly more evident than before.

"That's messed up," he said, making Sarah feel a little better. He may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but at least he wasn't a complete misogynist.

"Yeah," she agreed, snuggling closer to him both for warmth and stability. She had begun to tremble; the events of the night had apparently taken more out of her than she'd realized.

Caleb took the cue. "Are you ready to get out of here?" he asked as they arrived at a fork in the path. To the right, the festival was still going in full swing. The left led to the street.

"You don't mind?" she asked in return, worried that they hadn't finished everything there was to see or do.

He chuckled, holding her even tighter. "Of course not. But don't worry. I'm not going to ditch you just yet."

Sarah was pleased. She didn't want the night to end either. Knowing that her aunt would be busy in the square until the last visitors had left, she also didn't have to worry about permission or curfews.

She was, however, curious about Caleb's plans.

"So, where to now?" Sarah asked when they had settled back into the Jeep.

He started the ignition and smiled. "It's a surprise."

The answer was both mysterious and defiant enough for her liking, and she didn't press any further.