Page 47 of Promise Keeper

"Are we putting this notion to bed now?" Johnna asked. "I'm not driving to Indianapolis searching for a grave."

"Nobody asked you to come along," Roy said, then spat on the ground.

"You spit on Ernie Stein!" Elaina shouted. "You're gonna have more haunts than you can handle!"

"Let's get you out of here, Roy," I said. "If what Elaina says is true, you might never sleep again."

"Bah! Ghosts ain't real, I tell ya."

The bones of JLA, whoever he was, didn't just get up and walk to Metamora, unless he was a ghost, or undead, or whatever. I was with Roy, I didn't believe in those things. Someone was to blame for this mess, and I was close to finding out who.

20

While we were at the cemetery, Mom texted me. She was all excited because she and Carl's sample wedding invitations arrived. Since the cemetery was a bust and I was out of ideas, I figured I'd stop by Hilltop Castle and take a look.

Carl was at the Cornerstone so Mom was the only one home. She sat in the dining room at the huge banquet table. It was more of a dining hall since it was a castle, complete with the long sixteen person table and stone fireplace big enough to roast a hog.

Sitting at the far end of the table, Mom looked dwarfed by her surroundings. I sat in a side chair and gawked at the sheer amount of wedding magazines and binders she had organized. It was like Irene with her cat.

"I'm thinking I like this one the best," Mom said, sliding an invitation to me. "What do you think?"

It was traditional, ivory card stock with a slight texture and simple but elegant black font. Both of their full names were listed, along with the venue and time. It was nice, but boring for my taste.

"It's nice," I said. "What others are you considering?"

"That means you hate it," she said, snatching the invitation from my hand. She pushed the other three contenders over.

"I don't hate it. You know we have different tastes."

The next was very medieval and matched the look of Hilltop Castle. "Did Carl pick this one?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "Does that look like anything I'd ever pick out?"

"No."

It had an embellished crest on a burgundy banner across the top. The wording was in Old English. I read,Hear Ye! Hear Ye!and I stopped reading. It was written in calligraphy on an aged scroll with a wax seal.

"This is over the top," I said.

"Very themed," she said.

"Are you going for a Renaissance Fair theme?"

"I'd rather think of it as an early European royalty theme, and only if I play nice and give in to Carl."

I kept reading the invitation. "Lady Angela Zaborowski-Cripps. That's a mouthful."

"It's my name. I can't have an invitation without my name, Cameron."

"I think it's the lady part that threw me."

"Give me that." She snatched that invitation from me, too.

The third invitation was interesting. It was formal, but understated at the same time. Modern, but traditional. It had elements of conflicting styles that shouldn't blend, but did. It was gray and white with hints of sea green and coral. It almost reminded me of a Monet painting. "This is very pretty," I said. "It's different, but in the best way. I haven't seen it before, but it's not because it's too unique. It's individual and classy."

She stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "I don't know that it's necessarily that wonderful, but I'll ask your sister what she thinks."

Monica was the favorite. Her word was always weighted heavier than mine. I wasn't bitter. It was how it had always been, especially since I got married and left the dynamic duo of Cripps women to their own devices. Now that Mom was getting married and Monica would be engaged any day, things might change a little. Time would tell.

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