The Abandoned

Amelia

Violet Tisdale was buried in the hospital cemetery, in a grave next to her mother’s. The headstone that marked Ilsa’s final resting place was shrouded in moss and lichen, and Ree had asked Amelia Gray how to clean it. The restorer had volunteered to take care of it after the service, mostly, Ree figured, because she didn’t trust the old stone to an amateur.

Besides the minister, there were only four mourners at the service—Ree, Hayden, Trudy and John Devlin. If the enigmatic police detective had noticed Hayden’s strange behavior at the scene of Dr. Farrante’s death, he had decided to turn a blind eye.

According to Detective Devlin, he’d gotten wind of Farrante’s scheme through Trudy’s cousin and this, coupled with Hayden’s rather violent insistence that Ree was in danger, had led him to confront Farrante—partly to catch him off guard and partly to keep him away from the hospital until Hayden could whisk Ree to safety. It had all been kept hush-hush because of Dr. Farrante’s powerful allies in the Order.

Ree still wasn’t sure how she felt about Hayden’s legacy. The Order had done some very bad things in the past, but none of that had anything to do with him. And besides, she glanced at his bandaged arm. He’d proven his allegiance when he’d gone against Farrante to save her.

As for ghosts…Ree still wanted to believe that everything could somehow be explained away. But for as long as she lived, she knew she would never forget the look on Hayden’s face at the moment of Dr. Farrante’s death.

She looked up and found him staring down at her. His eyes were clear and guileless, shadowed with only a tinge of something she would never understand. He took her hand and locked his fingers with hers.

Ree shivered. Maybe there were some things she didn’t need to understand.

Amelia hadn’t expected it to take so long, but the old granite marker was in very bad shape. By the time she finished, twilight had fallen. It was that time of day when the air cooled, the shadows deepened and the veil between this world and the next thinned.

From the corner of her eye, she saw them. She didn’t turn, of course. It was dangerous to look directly at them.

She busied herself packing up her tools, but every now and then, she caught a glimpse from her periphery. There were two of them. A young woman in a blue dress and a little girl of about seven. The child wore white and in one hand, she clutched a nosegay of violets.

They were in the cemetery one moment, gone the next.

Amelia didn’t see them again until she was leaving. They were at the end of the drive, walking hand in hand through the gates. The young woman turned to stare, but Amelia didn’t make eye contact. Nor did she glance in her rearview mirror. As she merged with the early evening traffic her thoughts had already turned to her next project. Oak Grove Cemetery.