[Southern Ghost Hunter 02.5] Ghost of a Chance by Angie Fox

Author:Angie Fox [Fox, Angie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781939661333
Goodreads: 28320545
Publisher: Moose Island Books
Published: 2016-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

I had to cut the ghost some slack. She was in pain. Even if her mere presence sent chills up my spine and made my fingers numb with cold, I had a job to do.

Courage.

This ghost was powerful, just like her son. I couldn’t afford to upset her. We didn’t need any more incidents like last year’s overturned buffet table. But if I could get her to listen to me, I might be able to make things right for her, for Matthew, and even for poor Lauralee back in the kitchen.

Mrs. Jackson stood over Matthew’s coffin, keeping vigil.

There was no good thing to say, nothing that would make it better, so I said what I felt in my heart. “Mrs. Jackson, ma’am, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I couldn’t imagine how it might feel to lose a child, even if he did consider himself a man. Matthew couldn’t have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three when he died. He’d had so much to look forward to in life.

A portion of the anger drained from her as she turned back to the coffin that held her son. “He’s right here,” she murmured, stroking his cheek. “For as long as I stay with him.”

Matthew’s mother had been reliving his funeral and loving him for more than 150 years. And all that time, Matthew had been locked away in the basement of the library, thinking nobody cared. It didn’t have to be that way.

“Can I show you something outside?” I asked her.

“No,” she said quickly. “I don’t even look outside. My life is in here now. With my boy.”

Then he’d have to come to her. “Your son was very brave,” I said softly, as his mother nodded.

But would he have the courage to come home?

I had to try.

“Will you excuse me?” I asked the ghost.

Matthew’s mother nodded graciously, and I hurried to the front door.

Matthew had believed his mother no longer wanted him after she threw him out of the house. Even now, he stood on the lawn, convinced he wasn’t welcome, when she’d mourned him since the day he died. And likely even before that.

I hurried out onto the porch, tucking my empty tray under one arm and Frankie’s urn under the other. “Matthew!” I called, trying to spot the ghost on the darkening lawn. His image strengthened, glowing in the moonlight, and I rushed to where he stood.

“Do you have the necklace?” he asked, looking me over as if he expected me to produce it.

“I didn’t get it yet,” I said, watching him deflate. “But I spoke with your mother. She misses you, Matthew,” I said, even as he pressed his lips together and shook his head no. “Please. Go inside and you’ll see.”

“Shame on you, Verity,” he uttered before he disappeared.

Oh, darn it. “Matthew?” I searched frantically for any sign of the ghost.

His voice hit me like a punch to the stomach. “Do not meddle in my affairs,” he boomed, sounding like a dangerous stranger instead of my friend.

“I’m sorry,” I told him.

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