Summoned in Time: A magical, ghostly, time travel romance... (The MacCarthy Sisters Book 3) Read online

  “I will, thanks. I also brought coffee to add to our supplies.” Meredith opened the fridge door. The top two shelves were already full, which left her the bottom shelf. As quickly as she could, she put her perishables away and shoved her meat and bags of frozen veggies into the already packed freezer. Her duffle could wait. After fixing herself a cup of coffee, she joined the others and took a seat.

  “Great. Let’s get started.” Jake picked up a pile of folders from the coffee table. “Inside these folders you’ll find everything you need to know about the history of Garretsville and mining in the Garnet Mountains. You have a few days to learn enough to lead tours. We open for business on Tuesday, June second. Each of you will rotate through tour guiding, grounds and building maintenance, and manning the gift shop,” the ranger said as he passed out the folders.

  “You’ll all work five days per week, and the schedule for the entire summer is already set. The town is closed to visitors on Mondays, and everyone is on duty over the weekends, which are the busiest days. Copies of the schedule and a map of Garretsville are included in your information packets.”

  The ranger nodded toward the older couple. “John and Judy have dealt with just about every situation that can arise, and you can count on them for help should you need it,” Jake added, flashing the couple a grateful smile.

  The couple nodded happily.

  “Right.” Jake placed his hands on his hips and peered at each of them in turn. “I’ll take you on a tour of the buildings that are open to tourists. Usually we end with the gift shop, but for orientation, that’s where we’ll begin. I’ll show you how to use the register, and each of you will have a chance to practice. It’s era specific, mechanical, not difficult to learn at all. We also keep a couple calculators handy. Sales tax is already figured into the price, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  Jake glanced at each of them in turn. “Besides this cabin, the gift shop is the only other building with electricity. Credit and debit cards are processed the old-fashioned way if the internet signal is too weak to use the card reader. We’ll go over that too.”

  He tapped Meredith’s folder where it sat on the coffee table. “You’ll also find talking points in here for each site of interest open to the public. One or two times through the routine, and you’ll do fine. Shall we?”

  He strode across the room and opened the door. Meredith and the other three filed out and followed Jake to the building closest to their residence.

  “Before we go inside, I want to point out that we keep the grounds maintenance equipment in a locked storage shed in back of the gift shop. All the keys are kept on a hook inside the cabinet nearest the wall phone,” Jake said, gesturing toward their cabin.

  “Behind this building you will also find a bear-proof dumpster. All waste that is not recyclable must go into that container. Don’t forget to latch it shut, or you will have a mess to clean up. The bin for recyclables is right beside the dumpster, and it’s labeled. That also latches shut. Garbage and recycling are picked up once a week.” The Ranger climbed the steps to the shop, unlocked the front door and led them inside.

  Oliver came up beside her. “You know this town is haunted, right?”

  “I did read that.” She gazed around the interior. Magnets, T-shirts, sweatshirts, ball caps, snacks, books on the area’s history, and all the usual touristy stuff already filled the shelves in preparation for the season. The shop also had a glass-doored fridge filled with bottled water, sodas, and juice.

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” Oliver asked.

  “I like to keep an open mind.” She shrugged even as heat rose to her cheeks. “Do you?”

  “Hell yeah.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I’m hoping to have few encounters this summer.”

  Ghostly encounters could be dangerous. She’d have to keep an eye on this kid. “Is that what enticed you to spend your summer here—ghostly encounters?”

  “Not entirely. I just started UC Berkeley last fall. I’m majoring in environmental science. I want to become involved with our national park systems in some capacity. I figure having experiences like this on my resumé might help. The haunted part is a perk.”

  “Ah.” She nodded.

  Meredith moved closer to the counter as the ranger demonstrated how to use the old nineteenth-century brass cash register. As she took her turn on the machine, the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and a pocket of cold air engulfed her. And … here we go.

  “Right,” Jake said. “Let’s move on to the saloon, the most popular attraction in Garretsville.”

  “Do you feel that?” Oliver whispered beside her.

  The ranger and the Schultes were already walking out the door. Meredith glanced back, and that’s when she saw him. The spectral form of a man stood in front of the counter, staring directly at her. Once again the disturbing mix of anxiety and anticipation took hold, and every single nerve tingled with awareness. The problem with fate was that it scared the crap out of her, and somehow she knew this was the ghost she was meant to help.

  He wore the rough clothing of a miner, and he had a bandana tied loosely around his neck. His hair was a riot of curls. The poor guy had been very good looking in life, and he appeared to be very young, maybe her age, in his mid-twenties. No doubt he’d broken a few hearts when he’d been alive. How very sad that he hadn’t lived long enough to have much of a life at all.

  His gaze met hers and held. “You see me?”

  “Do I feel the cold?” She nodded slightly to Mr. Ghost and turned away. “Yep.”

  “There really are ghosts in Garretsville,” Oliver said, his tone awe-filled.

  “You hear me, lassie?” The ghost followed her out the door.

  His words whispering through her mind had a distinctive Irish lilt. Meredith nodded again, trying to make it look as if she meant it for Oliver, but glancing sideways at the being who moved along beside her. “So I’ve heard.” Ha, I’m talking in code to a ghost.

  “I actually feel his presence.” Oliver raked his fingers through his hair and huffed out a laugh. “This is amazing.”

  “What makes you think the ghost is a he?” Meredith cut Oliver a quick look. Was it possible he had a lesser degree of ability similar to hers? If so, he might be willing to help her send the Garretsville spirits on their way. Meredith and her older sister often worked together when convincing recalcitrant spirits to move on. So did Aunt Beth and Meredith’s father.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “A gut feeling, or maybe it’s deductive reasoning. This was a mining town. Odds are the ghosts here were prospectors. Not many women mined or panned for gold in the mid eighteen hundreds.”

  “Sure, but where there were men searching for silver and gold, there were also prostitutes. I did read that Garretsville had bawdy houses.” Meredith glanced once again at the ghost who trailed behind them. “The town also had several businesses, a school, and a church. There were families living here.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I wish there was a way to communicate with ghosts. Not like on those TV shows where ghostbusters set up all kinds of electronic equipment to catch sounds and images, but to actually have a conversation. Wouldn’t that be awesome? Think of the stories the ghosts here could tell.” Oliver gushed. “I wonder how the one in the gift shop died?”

  “I wonder about that too. A mining accident or an illness probably.” She’d just met the ghost most likely to have brought her here, and she hoped to help him into the light in the very near future. “I did read that those who did the drilling in preparation for blasting were paid the most because a driller’s life expectancy was only around six months. Some kind of toxic dust got into their lungs during the process.”

  “Do you think ghosts know they’re dead?” Oliver asked

  “Rarely,” she said. “That’s why they remain close to where they died, or close to a person, place, or a thing that meant a great deal to them. Sometimes spirits remain because they can’t let go of someone
they’re attached to. The attachment can be due to a bond of love or from a long-held grudge. Not all spirits are like Casper the Friendly Ghost, you know. Some are malicious and filled with rage.”

  She and her family had certainly experienced their share of working with both sorts. “For most spirits, it’s that lack of acceptance that they are no longer among the living that causes them to remain.”

  “You seem to know a lot about the subject.” Oliver stopped walking and studied her. “Sounds to me like you’re as interested in ghostly encounters as I am.”

  “You got me.” She laughed it off, hoping he’d view her interest similar to his, nothing more than morbid curiosity. “I’ll admit the haunted part of this venture did grab my interest, but mostly it’s the history. I’m hoping to write a book or at least an article. I have a master’s degree in American History, and I plan to begin my doctoral program soon.”

  “Sure, sure,” he muttered. “We’d better catch up to the rest of the group. Ranger Jake is frowning and checking his watch again.”

  “Agreed.” She and Oliver hurried to the saloon, the two story building was the largest in the settlement. According the article she’d found, Keoghan’s Saloon had morphed into ghost central for the once booming town of Garretsville.

  “Sorry,” she said as she and Oliver reached the ranger. “We were caught up in a discussion about ghosts and the fact that Garretsville is haunted.”

  The ranger rolled his eyes. “There are no such things as ghosts.”

  Judy and her husband shared a knowing look as they all trudged into the saloon. The familiar tingle of awareness, pockets of cold, and indiscernible whispers hit Meredith at once. She followed the others toward the polished brass-rail and wood bar. Curious, she glanced at Oliver. He visibly shivered and rubbed his arms, and his gaze darted around the interior of the saloon, his eyes wide.

  This was definitely the main hangout for the Garretsville ghosties. Though goose bumps skittered across the back of her neck and along her forearms, none of the spectral beings attempted to show themselves. She’d have to come back by herself to coax them into showing themselves—preferably after her cabinmates were safely tucked into their beds and sound asleep.

  Ranger Jake went over the history of the saloon and pointed out items of interest to share with tourists. Like the bullet holes in one of the walls, a remnant of a gunfight over one of the ladies of the night. Then he led them to the door.

  “The next building we’re visiting is the assayer’s office. Prospectors would bring their silver ore here to be graded through a process called titration. Gold and garnets were also mined in the area, but not so much when this town was at its zenith. Garretsville’s one bank is conveniently situated right next door, and it’s the only building to have been constructed with native stone rather than pine. You can read more about the role of assayers in your packets.”

  They stopped at a few residential cabins, the general store, the church, and a one-room schoolhouse. After the ranger completed the orientation, he took off. The Schultes went on a hike, and Oliver volunteered to walk through the tour one more time on his own, locking up each of the sites as he went. Meredith headed back to the cabin to unpack.

  Her small bedroom held two twin beds, a worn-out braided rug, two mismatched dressers, and a narrow closet with a curtain instead of a door. She hoisted her duffel bag onto the bed closest to the only window and began to unpack.

  Just as she placed a pile of folded clothing into one of the dressers, the temperature in the room dropped, and she got a nasty, prickly feeling all over. Meredith straightened. “This is my private space. As long as I’m here, I expect my room to remain free of hauntings,” she said, her tone firm.

  Jeering laughter from more than one spirit echoed inside her head. Dread slithered down her spine, and her stomach turned. These ghosts were not the innocuous kind. She detected the presence of three malevolent entities. “You are unwelcome here,” she said, a surge of adrenaline pounding out a warning.

  “You are … familiar to us. We ... don’t want … you here.” The words hissed through her mind, followed by an oppressive wave of rage.

  What did they mean by familiar? Adrenaline surged again as icy fingers brushed against her exposed skin. Meredith recoiled, and her heart clawed its way up her throat.

  Feigning calm, she returned to her duffel bag and took out one of the bundles of sage, a lighter, and an ashtray made from half an abalone shell. She lit the sage and smudged all around the room. Why sage repelled ghosts she had no idea, but the herb never failed to send the dead on their way.

  Soon the temperature returned to normal, and the feeling of dread receded. She stubbed the sage into the abalone to snuff the burning ends and placed the shell on top of a dresser. Meredith returned to her duffel for the wooden box of protective crystals she always carried with her. She should’ve set up the perimeter of protection first thing, but she’d had no reason to suspect Garretsville harbored dangerous spirits.

  She placed the smoky quartz on one of the dressers. Smoky quartz would lend her both strength and protection from evil directed at her. The large chunk of uncut peridot she slid under the pillow on the twin bed where she’d sleep—that crystal repelled otherworldly beings of all kinds.

  The amethyst and jet she set on the other dresser. The two stones placed together amplified the presence of approaching spirits—kind of like the way a video security system warned of approaching intruders.

  The three ghosts who had invaded her space were a game changer. Confused or traumatized spirits were easy to help. Evil spirits were another matter altogether, and it was never wise to attempt dislodging those types on her own. A lone ghost whisperer ran the risk of being possessed by spirits intending to do harm. Three of them working together posed a threat she didn’t want to face. She needed to call home for help or at least advice.

  “Is that pot I smell?” John called as he knocked on her door.

  Meredith grabbed the abalone shell holding the sage and hurried to open her door. “No, it’s sage,” she said, holding out the shell for his inspection. “I burn it to—”

  “To cleanse an area of negativity and send ghosts packing.” He nodded and smiled. He glanced around her room, taking note of the stones she’d placed in various spots. “My mistake. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “No lie, Garretsville is haunted. The wife and I have a bag of moonrise crystals with us. You might know it as shungite. We’ve found moonrise crystals far superior to jet, onyx, or obsidian for keeping unwanted phantoms away. Would you like a few to add to your collection?”

  “Umm … sure.” Another surprising development to ponder.

  “Once you’re finished unpacking, join us in the living room. Judy’s making supper for everyone, and we need to discuss housekeeping stuff.”

  “Okay. I’ll only be a minute.”

  “Great. Bring the sage, and we can smudge the entire interior. I don’t care for the chill that surrounds the dead, and I’d just as soon keep them out of the cabin.”

  “I agree.”

  John nodded and left, and she considered what she’d learned about her three cabinmates. None of this should surprise her. Only individuals willing to endure the presence of ghosts would’ve applied for the summer program in Garretsville. The Schultes had done so year after year, and Oliver looked forward to ghostly encounters.

  Still, the revelations altered her thinking when it came to how she should handle her own reasons for coming to this haunted town. The three people she shared the cabin with had no idea how dangerous ghostly encounters could be. Not only would she help spirits cross, but she’d also need to shield her coworkers from harm.

  Meredith hiked up the hill to the wooden platform overlooking Garretsville and the Garnet Mountains. She checked her phone for a signal. Four bars, enough to chat with her sisters without heading into Missoula. Thermal water bottle in hand, she dropped down to sit on the wooden railroad ties forming the
deck of the overlook.

  She and the other volunteers had practiced every aspect of their duties all day yesterday, which had left her too tired to visit the saloon last night. They’d practice more today, which was Sunday, and visitors would begin arriving on Tuesday.

  For the moment, all she wanted was to enjoy the view, the gorgeous Montana sky, and the early morning birdsong. Meredith relaxed the bunched muscles between her shoulders.

  Her sisters wouldn’t call for another thirty minutes. Wanting to make sure she had enough signal before their weekly chat, she’d set out early enough to make it to town if she had to. She leaned back against a railing post just as the chill of the dead settled over her—no malevolence, only the ordinary cold worn by an ordinary ghost.

  “Hello, pretty lassie.”

  “My name is Meredith MacCarthy, not pretty lassie.” The ghost from the gift shop came to hover in front of her. This wasn’t the first time a ghost had used a cheesy come-on line with her. Ridiculous and frustrating, but symptomatic of a spirit’s unwillingness to accept their own state of deadness.

  “A fine Irish name it is too. Hello, Meredith MacCarthy,” he said, pronouncing her surname as MacCartty. “My name is Daniel Cavanaugh. How is it you not only see me, but you hear me as well? I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  Groaning inwardly, she launched into why she had the abilities she did. “One of my long-ago Irish ancestors consorted with one of the Tuatha dé Danann, and the union produced a child. That child passed the fae genes on to the next generation, and so forth and so on. I’ve inherited a strand or two of fae DNA, and that is where my abilities originated.” She’d offered this explanation so many times over the years—to the dead and to the living—that the words came out automatically.

  “I know nothing of dee-an-ay strands, but I gather you’ve a touch of fae blood.” Daniel sat down beside her.

  Once again she was struck by how gorgeous he’d been. His Celtic features—a long, straight nose, sculpted cheeks, chin, and jaw, and his wide-set eyes were perfectly symmetrical and pleasing to the eye. Then, he had that unruly mop of curls, the kind she itched to run her fingers through. Daniel Cavanaugh had definitely been a striking man when alive.