The Last Handful of Clover - Book 2: Gifts Both Light and Dark

2.45 The Two Keys

June 14, 8:30 am

"In all my years living in this city, I've never been up here..." Richard said.

The three ghosts were climbing the red metal stairway that wound up the inside perimeter of the clock tower at the City and County building. Richard thought they made an unlikely trio: The old native woman, the adolescent boy in the straw hat, and the aging professor. Of the three, Richard was the only one that seemed shell-shocked. He was putting one foot in front of the other without knowing where they were going or why.

"I thought this would be a good place for us to talk, out of the rain," Billy said, as he led the way up the stairs. "Nobody is going to bother us here."

The City and County building was right across the street from the Courthouse, and since it was a weekend, nobody was taking the very popular tour up to the top of the clock tower, with its excellent views of downtown. Richard had never bothered taking the tour, and now he felt like an obedient dog, walking behind Billy and the old woman he called Tuilla. The brown brick walls of the clock tower made Richard feel as if they were ascending out of a deep well.

"We are here," Tuilla said, as they stepped out onto the observation level. "Thank you, Billy, for suggesting this place. It will do nicely."

Tuilla's voice was deep and rich, almost masculine, with a resonance that reminded Richard of his grandmother before she had died. In his previous encounters with the old woman she hadn't spoken, and it grated against Richard's ears to hear her speak now, almost as if he had assumed she was mute. At the very least, he had expected her to sound like the stereotype he had in his mind of an old Indian woman—an image derived, most likely, from way too many Zane Grey novels and old westerns on late night TV. But instead of broken English and a weak and craggy voice, the woman had spoken English confidently, and her diction had rivaled Billy's. Richard had to remind himself that although she might have spoken no English at all when she died, like Billy, this woman had lived for more than two centuries. Billy had said that she'd been dead longer than any ghost he knew.

It was mid-morning by the time they reached the top of the tower. The misty and gray streets below were mostly quiet, a few umbrellas moving along the sidewalks like black mushrooms. The thunder had quieted to a distant and ominous rumbling, echoing across the gray and misty sky. The rain had become light, but the fog persisted in ghostly waves.

Richard could hear the sounds of sirens in the distance. Ambulances and police cars, zooming off in all directions.

It's like being on an island when a hurricane is gathering, Richard thought. Like we're seeing the first whitecaps batter the shores around us.

"Richard, it's very nice to meet you formally," Tuilla said, reaching out a spotted and gnarled old hand. Richard shook it, still marveling at the fact that he could touch her, just as he could touch Billy.

"You have the Third Gift," Richard said, holding her hand. She didn't pull away, but a satisfied and amused look washed across her face. She turned and smiled at Billy.

"I see you've taught him about the gifts."

"As much as I know, yes," Billy replied. "Which is probably not nearly enough."

She gently pulled her hand away from Richard, who immediately felt a sense of emptiness at its passing. She reached out and put that hand on Billy's neck in a tender, almost motherly gesture. "Thank you, Billy." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead. She was not a tall woman, but even hunched over, she was taller than Billy. The simple gratitude and tenderness in her gesture embarrassed Billy, and he looked down at his feet.

I think when Billy speaks of God, at least part of him has been speaking of this woman, Richard thought.

There was so much he wanted to ask, but he did not know where to start. And even before he could try to prioritize his questions, he heard his own voice speaking the first of them.