Silent Echoes Read online

  She went up another flight. “Lucy,” she called. “It’s me, Lindsay. Are you here?”

  Lindsay walked along the hall, listening at the doors. “Lucy? Lucy!”

  “Is that you, Lindsay?” came faintly from inside room 14.

  Lindsay stared at the door. I did it. I found her. “Yes, I’m here. You’re visiting your father’s boardinghouse, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Lucy said on the other side of the door. “I’m waiting for him. How did you know?”

  “Wait there until I get back,” Lindsay said. She dashed down the hall and took the stairs two at a time. A few minutes later she returned, having convinced the manager that she needed to switch rooms.

  “I’m back,” she called as soon as she entered the room. “And boy, do I have something to tell you.”

  “Yes? Is it about my mother?”

  “Oh. Well, not exactly. I did find her name. Is your father’s name Beau?”

  “Yes.”

  Lindsay flipped open her notebook. “And your mom’s maiden name was Martin?”

  “Yes. I stayed on her parents’ farm when my father was away.”

  “And you’re Lucy Phillips, the medium.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I hope you’re sitting down. This is going to be a big shocker. You believe you contacted me because I’m dead, right?”

  “Well, yes.” Lucy’s voice sounded slightly surprised.

  “You’re right that I’m not in your world. Well, I am, but not exactly. But I’m definitely no ghost. In fact, it’s really you that’s…Lucy, I’m talking to you from the future. Over a hundred years into the future.”

  Lindsay heard a tiny gasp, then an even tinier, “Oh, my.”

  Seventeen

  “That can’t be possible,” Lucy protested. “It’s just too incredible.”

  “How is it any more impossible than thinking that you’re talking to the dead?” Lindsay demanded.

  She told Lucy everything she and Tanya had discovered: that every place she and Lucy had contact existed in both centuries. Then Lindsay pulled out her ace in the hole—the newspapers.

  “Here’s the test,” she told Lucy. “I’m going to read to you from tomorrow’s newspaper. Tomorrow in your time, I mean. Then you come back to your father’s boardinghouse and tell me if what I’ve told you came true.”

  “I suppose we could try that….”

  Lindsay read the headlines of the next day’s newspaper in 1882: about an ocean liner’s arrival, full of society and famous people, about a fire, gossip about the actress Lily Langtry, some business news. “I could read you reviews. That might be more interesting. Hey, I know this one. Well, I saw the movie.”

  “Movie?”

  “Something that’s going to be invented.” She tried to remember when people started going to movies. “I think they began as nickelodeons. Thomas Edison had something to do with it.” Tanya should be the one having this experience, Lindsay thought. She’s good at history.

  “What’s the play?” Lucy asked.

  “Around the World in Eighty Days.”

  “Oh! Read that one!” Lucy sounded excited.

  “Well, it’s not really a review, more of an announcement.” Lindsay started giggling. “This sounds crazy! Listen to this: ‘Every seat was occupied at Niblo’s Garden last night. The play was handsomely mounted, and the music was good. The costumes were gaudy, and the ballets are presented in admirable style. The really startling feature of the exhibition was the presence of a live elephant on the stage. It was a good-size elephant, an elephant inclined to be exceedingly familiar with the damsels round him and with an undue ambition to exhibit his lung power.’” Lindsay was having a hard time talking because she was laughing so hard. “Man, I wish I could have seen that. It sounds like that elephant was trying to get frisky with those dancers!”

  Lindsay heard a little intake of breath. “It’s getting late. I need to go. I guess my father isn’t coming after all.”

  “Promise to come back tomorrow and talk to me. You’ll see. It will all come true.”

  “I promise.” Lindsay felt a connection close. Lucy must have left the boardinghouse.

  Lindsay was so excited she couldn’t sit still. She wished she could call Tanya, but she didn’t want to risk it. Besides, she’d have so much more to tell tomorrow.

  How peculiar, Lucy thought, slowly making her way down the narrow stairs, pondering the impossible. The spirit sounded so certain. No, the poor girl must be delirious or simply desperate not to admit the painful truth that she had died and was speaking to Lucy from the beyond.

  She stepped outside into the dim street. Too early for the lamps to have been lit, but the sun had dipped low. She’d have to hurry to get back to Mrs. Van Wyck’s and get ready for her evening with Bryce.

  “Lucy!”

  Lucy turned and saw Nellie approaching. Nellie’s dress was a startling orange-and-pink brocade, her corset tightly cinched, emphasizing her curves, and the top of her dress very low cut. Lucy could actually see the tops of the woman’s breasts. She looked bright and lively; all the fear and grief afflicting her when they’d first met had vanished.

  “Here to see your father?” Nellie asked.

  Up close, Lucy could see that Nellie’s face was thickly coated with some kind of pale powder and that there were dark circles under the woman’s eyes. She wondered how old Nellie was; she’d been as shocked as her father to discover that Katie was just her age.

  “I seem to have missed him. How is Katie?” Lucy asked.

  “Much improved! I can’t thank you enough for what you did for Katie and me.”

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  “I came here to get some clothes for Katie so I can bring her home. I need to get her away from that doctor friend of yours.”

  Lucy’s eyes widened. “Has he an…interest in her?”

  Nellie laughed so hard she bent over at the waist. “No,” she said straightening back up. “Not the kind of interest you mean.” She stifled her giggles and readjusted her garish hat. “No, his interest is in getting her to stop working at Harry Hill’s and go back home.”

  “Oh,” Lucy said.

  “He’s very kind, of course,” Nellie added hastily. “And we’re ever so grateful. It’s just, well, he shouldn’t interfere. See?”

  “But wouldn’t she be better off going home?” Lucy asked.

  “What’s for her to go home to?” Nellie demanded. Lucy could see the woman was quickly losing her gratitude and starting to get peeved. “And won’t Tom get on me if he thought I had any hand in her leaving.”

  “Oh.”

  Now Nellie looked at her shrewdly. “Your doctor can’t be of much help, but you can.”

  “Me? How?”

  “You managed to better yourself,” Nellie said. “You didn’t start any higher than me or Katie.”

  “My father—” Lucy began, uncertain how to stem this particular tide of conversation.

  “I know all about your father,” Nellie said. “He’s got the gab, that’s certain. He could convince a body it was summertime in a blizzard. I’ve seen him do it. But once you were set, you dropped him, didn’t you?”

  Lucy shook her head. “That’s not—”

  “Let me in on the game. Girls need to stick together. We could make a great act of it.”

  Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t work with a partner. My father taught me that. Partners can’t be trusted.”

  Nellie hooted. “You’re a bright little thing.” She nodded slowly. “No reason I can’t attend one of your little soirees, is there? Introduce myself around. That’d be a help at least. A better class of custom.”

  Lucy fought to hide her rising panic. Nellie at Mrs. Van Wyck’s? Her presence would destroy the impression she and her father had worked so hard to cultivate. “There is an admission charged,” Lucy said, hoping having to spend money might dissuade Nellie.

  Nellie shrugged. “Perhaps you can arrange a ticket
for me.”

  “I don’t have anything to do with it. I have a manager.” Then she added, “Talk to my father. He would know better than I how to go about it.” Lucy knew he would make sure Nellie steered clear from now on. Her father would not risk his hard work establishing them as a genteel family fallen on hard times.

  But she’d still have to be careful. It was likely she’d see Nellie again when she came to visit her father. Or Lindsay. She couldn’t go back on her promise to return the next day. Not when she’d tried so hard to make contact.

  “I’m expected back,” Lucy said.

  “I’ll be seeing you soon, I’m sure,” Nellie warned.

  Lucy clung to Bryce’s arm, terrified she’d lose him in the swirling crowd and reveling in being at his side. Everyone seemed to know him: distinguished gentlemen, dashing young men, and the envious young ladies who glared at Lucy. The ornate Niblo’s Garden was the perfect setting for such a dazzling evening. Lucy couldn’t decide which thrilled her more: the extraordinary sights they’d seen onstage or being the object of so much attention.

  “That was a silly little spectacle,” Bryce commented, guiding Lucy expertly through the throng. “Though I did enjoy the elephant.”

  “It was enchanting!” Lucy protested. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Though,” she added, remembering the words of the article Lindsay had read, “the costumes were a bit gaudy.”

  “We’ll never get a carriage here,” Bryce said. “Not with everyone else trying. Let’s walk a bit.”

  Bryce led them down Crosby Street. Lucy noticed two women farther ahead standing in the circle of yellow light cast by the tall lamp. Seeing them, Bryce steered Lucy nearer to the street, as if he wanted to give the women a wide berth. As she got closer, Lucy recognized them: Nellie and Katie, both heavily painted and wearing low-cut dresses and feathered hats.

  Lucy quickly looked down at the sidewalk, willing them not to notice her. If those women approached while she was with Bryce—

  “Miss Lucy!”

  Lucy’s heart sank and her ears felt warm. She kept walking, but Bryce pulled her to a stop.

  “Oh, Miss Lucy,” Katie said breathlessly, rushing up to her. “Oh, Miss Lucy. I never had a chance to thank you proper.”

  Lucy took a step backward, shrinking away from the girl.

  Katie looked perplexed, but very quickly her expression changed.

  “Sorry to have troubled you,” she said curtly, whirling around and rejoining Nellie under the lamplight.

  “You know that creature?” Bryce demanded, yanking Lucy away.

  “No,” Lucy said.

  “She knew you by name,” Bryce said.

  “I—I—” Lucy didn’t know how to explain any of it in a way that would be acceptable to Bryce.

  “What on earth did she want to thank you for? Good God. To be approached by a streetwalker—” His indignation cut off his words. He put up a hand, and a carriage came to a stop. “I sincerely hope no one I know saw that exchange.”

  He helped Lucy into the carriage and this time, rather than sitting beside her as he usually did, he sat facing her.

  “Answer me, Lucy.” His voice was hard. “How did you help that woman?”

  Lucy took in a deep breath. “It was because of Alan,” she said.

  Bryce looked at her sharply. “Alan Wordsworth? What have you been up to with Alan Wordsworth?”

  “Nothing!” she insisted. “My father discovered this girl was ill, and I remembered what Alan had said at the ball. You sat me with him, remember?” she added, getting in a little dig. “That night he told me all about his work at the hospital.”

  Bryce’s expression began to lighten. A small smile played on his full lips. “He does go on.”

  Lucy nodded. “So I helped my father take her to Riverview and got Alan to take care of her. I had no idea she was…she was…Just that she was sick. Possibly dying.”

  “I see.” He tapped his gloved fingers together.

  “What was I supposed to do?” Lucy snapped. “Let her die?”

  Bryce’s jaw tightened, and he pressed back against the tufted leather upholstery. For a long moment the only sound Lucy could hear was the clip-clopping of the horse’s iron shoes against the cobblestones. Then Bryce shrugged. “You’re right. You were trying to do a good thing by helping someone less fortunate.” He gave a strange, sharp laugh. “A do-gooder. Just like my mother.”

  The carriage came to an abrupt stop. Loud clanging and shouts startled Lucy, and Bryce leaned forward to peer out the window. “Fire,” he said; then, his face still close to Lucy’s, he added, “Don’t look so serious.”

  He kissed her lightly on her lips. All was forgiven.

  Bryce slid onto the seat beside her, draped his arm across her shoulders. “My parents think that Alan is such a good example,” he complained. “How he has done so well for himself despite his low beginnings. That his work among the poor is so kind, so selfless.” He shook his head. “I just hope he hasn’t bewitched you as well.”

  “Not a chance,” Lucy assured him.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to be busy most of this week,” Bryce said, playing with strands of her hair. “Lady Wilhelm is arriving tomorrow on the Arizona with her irritating family, and I’m expected to hang around and be entertaining.” He laughed. “The one thing I’m looking forward to in this visit is attending Lily Langtry’s American debut. But first I’ll have to hear about all of the evil she represents. Lady Wilhelm will feel herself an expert since they will have traveled across the ocean on the same ship.”

  Lucy felt a strange twisting in her gut. She ignored it, turning her head slightly so that if Bryce wanted to kiss her, he could. He did.

  They were startled apart when more shouting and clanging assaulted them through the window. The entire carriage seemed lit up, and Lucy realized it was the flames from the building they were passing.

  “Too bad,” Bryce said, peering out the carriage window. “There goes Josiah’s Dry Goods. I wonder if he can afford to rebuild.”

  Lucy straightened, recognition driving her into a tense, alert position. Josiah’s Dry Goods. Lady Wilhelm arriving on the Arizona with Lily Langtry. Those were bits of news Lindsay had read to her from the newspaper.

  Tomorrow’s newspaper.

  Eighteen

  Lindsay floated in darkness, enveloped in shadows cut sharply by garish neon flashes. At the tip of sleep she was startled by a pounding on the door, forcing her awake.

  “Didi! You open this damn door!” a woman shouted. She pounded again. “Didi!”

  “No Didi here!” Lindsay shouted back.

  Lindsay watched the tiny sliver of light seeping in under the door, dimming and brightening as the woman moved. “You don’t sound like Didi,” she said uncertainly.

  “I’m not,” Lindsay replied. “There’s no Didi here.”

  “Well, where is she?” the woman demanded, kicking the door with a low thwack.

  “I don’t know,” Lindsay yelled. “Go away. Leave me alone!”

  “You don’t have to be that way about it,” the woman muttered, her footsteps trickling away and clicking down the stairs.

  Lindsay dropped her head. She was exhausted but wide awake. She got up and peered out the window. It was still dark, but there were people on the street, starting their day.

  She didn’t have any towels, so she wasn’t sure about taking a shower. She put on her shoes and opened the door, checking both directions. The coast clear, she hurried to the bathroom. The strong bleach smell told her someone had cleaned it pretty recently. The shower curtain was matted with mildew, but as long as she didn’t let it touch her, she could handle it.

  I can pick up towels at Kmart or borrow some from Tanya, she decided. Doable. Then she discovered the broken lock. There was no way she was going to stand in this room naked.

  She splashed water on her face to wake herself up and went back to the room. While she wasn’t sleeping, she had come up with a new idea o
n how to test her theory. She just had to wait long enough for the library to open. She picked up her notebook and her wallet, then went out to a diner where she could have breakfast and use a bathroom with a lock.

  Lindsay felt like she had stepped back in time when she pushed through the heavy doors of McSorley’s Old Ale House. Sawdust was strewn across the floor, and newspapers, photos, and pictures dark and dusty, dating to the 1850s, covered every inch of the rich brown walls. Strange objects hung from the ceiling and perched along the back bar. A few scattered patrons sat drinking beer from clear mugs at wooden tables. A white-haired man stood behind the bar, far from the door, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. He glanced up when he saw her and frowned.

  Lindsay shifted uncomfortably. She had timed this all wrong—the place was too empty and she stood out in the all-male environment.

  “Yes, young lady?” the bartender asked.

  “Does a guy named Tom work here?” she asked, quickly coming up with an excuse for being there.

  “I’m Tom.”

  Oops. Lindsay laughed nervously. “This Tom isn’t you.”

  John grinned. “A bit younger, perhaps?”

  “Well, yeah. I thought he said he worked here. I must have gotten it wrong.”

  “Guess so.”

  “Uh, can I get a Coke?”

  “Sure.”

  Tom turned and opened an ancient-looking refrigerator that looked more like an oversize chest of drawers. He put the bottle and a glass of ice in front of her.

  “That doesn’t look like any fridge I’ve ever seen,” Lindsay said, pouring the Coke into the glass.

  Tom patted the refrigerator. “This beauty has been here since the beginning. It started out as an icebox and then got refitted as a fridge. Never even moved it—just added all the works with it still in place.”

  “Wow.” Lindsay thought, an idea forming. “So that’s, like, the oldest thing in the whole bar?”

  “Pretty much. Even older than me.”

  A patron at the end of the bar held up an empty beer mug, and the bartender ambled back down to the other side.