The Restorer by Stevens Amanda

Author:Stevens, Amanda [Stevens, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Mira
Published: 2011-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-ONE

I took an unfamiliar route home from the Institute and got caught in a logjam near Old City Market. A nightmare for motorists, the place was a tourist’s paradise of indoor and outdoor stalls where one could barter for every Lowcountry souvenir imaginable, from T-shirts to sweetgrass baskets to cornrows.

Wedged between a bicycle taxi and a rusted Toyota, I crept along Church Street, letting my gaze wander to the churchyard at St. Philip’s, home to some of the oldest and most ornate wrought-iron gates in the city, as well as the twice-exhumed body of John C. Calhoun. The gravestones here were in excellent condition, the upkeep impeccable, but what I found most fascinating about St. Philip’s was the unusual layout: it had two separate cemeteries, dubbed “Friendly” and “Stranger,” for those parishioners born in Charleston and those who were not.

The churchyard was said to be haunted by a young woman grieving for her stillborn baby. A number of sightings had been reported over the years by tourists and locals alike, and allegedly her ghostly image had been captured on film by at least one professional photographer. But in all my visits to St. Philip’s, I’d never caught so much as a glimpse of her.

The bicycle taxi slowed to a crawl while his excited passengers snapped pictures with their cell phones. I grew increasingly impatient, wanting to be home where I could spend the rest of the day alone with Google.

Egregores, shadow beings, pareidolia—Dr. Shaw had served up some exotic food for thought and I needed to do some research.

I still wasn’t convinced of his optical illusion and waking dream theories, because I knew better than anyone that logic sometimes had to be taken with a grain of salt. But his explanations were certainly more palatable than the notion of some dark entity coming for me.

All of this rolled around in my head as I sat drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, waiting to make the next turn. As we inched our way down the street, I happened to look out my side window at the very moment Devlin was getting out of his car at a small seafood place with a shaded porch and tropical landscaping.

Until a few days ago, I’d never set eyes on the man and now I saw him everywhere. It was at once a strange, exhilarating and unsettling phenomenon.

All my life I’d been trained not to react to stimuli and not to act on impulse. So it was quite out of character for me to make an illegal turn, circle the block and pull into the restaurant parking lot with a fanfare of sputtering gravel.

Devlin had already been seated on the porch by this time and he glanced up from his menu as I approached his table.

“I hope you don’t mind,” I said with all the ease and confidence of an adolescent confronting her first crush. “I saw you pull up outside and I wondered if I might have a quick word with you.”

“Have a seat.

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