Page 13 of Thunder Road

“If a particular spirit can’t cross bodies of water, then international post-mortem travel would be out,” Simon continued, and the audience laughed. “Their range could be limited by not being able to cross rivers since large ones, like the Mississippi, can be difficult to avoid. But there are plenty of stories about ghost ships and haunted ships, so the lore isn’t really clear.

“Airplanes, however, can be haunted according to the stories,” Simon went on. “In those cases, it was because the plane re-used parts from a wreck, so it’s not talking about a carry-on ghost brought by a passenger. I love the question. Thank you!”

He took three more questions before time ran out, but none were as inventive. When his host wrapped up the Q&A session, Simon moved to a table with stacks of his books where he could sell and sign copies—and answer more questions.

One older woman hung back, waiting to be at the end of the signing line. She paid for a book and gave Simon her name. “I want to book a séance with you,” Shirley Brighton blurted as if she was nervous about asking. “I need to talk with my uncle. He was the last keeper of the Georgetown Light.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “I don’t think they are keeping the protections up like he used to.”

That got Simon’s attention. “Protections?” There was no one in line behind her, and his host was busy directing the helpers who were putting the room back in order. “I’m not sure I understand. Isn’t that lighthouse protected by the Coast Guard?”

She gave him a mysterious smile. “There’s protection andprotection.The Coast Guard never did know the full story of the coastal lights, and now that the keepers are gone, there’s no one to work the spells.”

That made Simon look up. “Spells?”

“It’s quite a story—and I heard it from my uncle himself. I have to go meet my ride, but I’ll tell you everything at our appointment,” she promised.

“I want to hear all about it.” Simon handed her his card. “Just call and tell Pete to book you.”

She headed toward the front doors as Sally Anne Roberts, the community events manager of the garden, walked over to Simon’s table.

“You had a great crowd.” Full of excitement, as usual, Sally Anne’s enthusiasm for the garden and her job always brightened Simon’s day. He was a regular during the fall, especially in the run-up to Halloween, when his books about ghosts were especially popular.

“Thank you for having me and promoting the event.”

Sally Anne grinned. “We’re a good team. Did you sell some books?”

“More than usual. Maybe with fall coming, people are stocking up.” Simon started to put his remaining copies into a plastic box. “By the way, do you know the woman who just left?”

“Mrs. Brighton? She’s a regular, especially around the holidays. Why?”

“She wants me to do a séance for her uncle, the lighthouse keeper. I wondered if you knew the history involved.” Simon kept the comments about spells to himself, but he intended talk to some of his sources.

“Her uncle was the last lighthouse keeper for the Georgetown Light before it was automated back in the 1980s,” Sally Anne replied. “Before that, all the lighthouses had live-in keepers.”

Simon made a mental note to research the lighthouses of the Carolina coast. Something in Mrs. Brighton’s comment pinged a half-remembered detail about protective magic.

“Are you ready for Halloween?” Simon asked as he and Sally Anne walked out to the main lobby.

“As ready as I ever am! It’s great that we have so many community programs—readings, craft days, children’s costume events, and a fall festival—but it’s an all-hands-on-deck sort of thing, and when it’s done, we swing right into the holidays. The good thing is that people come to the garden and see what we have to offer.”

Simon thanked her again for setting up the reading and promised to come back again during the Christmas season. Once he got into the car, he couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Brighton’s words.

“Hey, Pete,” he said when he called the store. “Has anyone called to request a séance?”

“Just got a call. You must be psychic or something,” Pete joked.

“Or something. Mrs. Brighton?”

“Right again. What’s up?”

“She was just at my signing, and she said she wanted a séance. Did she tell you anything about who we’re going to try to talk with?”

“Just that her uncle was a lighthouse keeper, and she wanted to reach him. Why? Something going on?”

“I’m not sure,” Simon admitted. “When is she coming in?”

“This afternoon at two. Anything you need me to do to get ready?” Pete asked.

“No, thanks. I’m going to see what I can find out before then. I think this might be bigger than just missing a departed relative.”

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