Page 43 of A Dark and Stormy Night

"Mary would never have hurt him. You know that better than anybody," Tora said. "She prayed for his soul every day."

"Garik said Donald is a bastard and an abuser." Elizabeth sighed. "But that doesn't mean in his own twisted way he doesn't love her. Garik said Donald seems genuinely worried."

"Worried he's going to get caught," Lillie muttered.

Rainbow wrapped her arms around Mrs. Golobovitch and Emma Royalty. "Group hug."

Areila looked startled to be included. Then she sort of smiled and Kateri thought her opinion of the weird folks in Virtue Falls had taken a leap.

When the quilting crowd gave each other a last embrace and resumed their sewing, Areila said, "If the ghost is a bad omen . . . is there anything else unusual happening around town?"

Bette stuck her needle back and forth through the quilt, speaking rapidly. "Apparently that guy who lives in the park, Cleardale, is in the hospital. I heard from Sheila who used to work at the Honor Mountain Memory Care Facility and has now moved to work at the mental ward . . . that Cleardale is really off this time, babbling about the talking ghost, the girl that glowed and the dark, cold place in the park."

"That's . . . creepy." Rainbow shoved her red, white and blue hair out of her eyes. "Do you ever wonder how much of it is true?"

"Sure," Bette said. "But I think it's more likely his meds aren't working well."

"I don't like the dark, cold place in the park." Areila stared into space. "I feel it. It's there."

Lillie and Tora exchanged sideways glances, now clearing wondering if she was a little nuts.

Rainbow, of course, saw nothing wrong with Areila's insight; she leaned forward and stared at Areila. "Have you checked it out?"

"I should. But it's winter. It's spooky." Areila shivered and looked around at her new friends. "So no one knows who the ghost in the park is? Where he comes from?"

Everyone looked to Margaret for the answer. "No one at all," she said.

"Hm." Areila stood. "I think I might have a theory."

Eugene Park

The finale

After I was banished, Areila came through the park every day for two weeks looking for me. When she called, I couldn't respond. I wanted to . . . I wanted to tell her to run.

He was stalking her.

But I had broken the rules, whatever rules there were, and I was imprisoned in that dark corner of the park, mute, invisible, while blood seeped through the soil and smothered me with grief.

Then Areila disappeared. She was gone for over a week, and I was glad.

If only she had stayed away . . .

On a gray day in the late afternoon I heard her making her way across the park toward the corner that led into the woods — the corner where darkness dwells. I wanted to shout at her no! But I wasn't there. Not really. I was nothing more than a scent on the air, a shadow you catch out of the corner of your eye that disappears when you face it. I was merely waiting . . . waiting for another dose of horror and helplessness.

I didn't want it to be her horror.

I could not stand it to be my helplessness.

She left the sidewalk, crunched across old leaves and fallen pine needles to stand at the soft, recently disturbed mound of dirt. The witch hazel was blooming — the shrubs were always the first to vanquish winter — and as she removed her knit cap, the yellow blossoms framed her head. She was young, pretty, unwary — and I was afraid for her. She held a shovel in one hand; she planted it firmly in the dirt. "Frank Vincent Montgomery, I don't know if you can hear me, but I wanted to tell you — I figured out why I can see you. When you gave me your name, you gave me the clue I needed . . . Does the name Sofia mean anything to you?"

Yes! Yes! Sofia is my love! But I couldn't communicate. All the times I had haunted Eugene Park when I wanted to be elsewhere, listened to the crazy people, tried to stop the murders . . . and now, when I desperately longed to be beside the fountain or standing among the grand old cedars, I was not.

"Sofia was my great-grandmother." Areila waited again.

Of course!I should have known. I had compared Areila to Sofia in her spirit and her personality, but hadn't seen the resemblance between them.

Out of nowhere, a thought struck me. Maybe . . . maybe because Areila resembled me.

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