On the television Dora went in search of her lost teddy bear. Chloe ate pretzels, pretended to feed her doll and sang along with the show. The psychic air around the property seemed restless and full of spirits. Something about the Oracle’s presence, or the property, attracted them. The house was crowded with ghosts.
For some reason, a group of elderly women had been hanging out in the kitchen for the last couple of weeks. Grace didn’t recognize them, and she couldn’t quite make out what they said. Either the ghosts weren’t strong enough, or they didn’t have anything they felt passionately enough about to communicate clearly to her. She suspected they just enjoyed the children and the atmosphere of the old kitchen. Whatever the reason was for their presence, she liked their companionship. They felt worn, comfortable and faded, like an old, warm blanket. Concentrating on them helped to take her mind off her body’s misery.
Sometimes the ghosts that came to the house weren’t comfortable. Sometimes they were jagged presences, serrated with old malice and resentments, or still reverberating with the traumas from their lives.
Sometimes there was nothing else to do but chase the dark spirits off the property. She wasn’t Jennifer Love Hewitt, and this wasn’t the Ghost Whisperer, where angry ghosts somehow turned into nice people once they had a chance to settle misunderstandings or get grievances off their chests, and then all the happy ghosts moved on to a shiny afterlife at the end of an episode. Dark, angry spirits tended to be dark and angry because they held on to things. Given half a chance they also tended to linger, spreading their ill will and negativity throughout the property like a malaise.
The Power of the Oracle was the Power of prophecy. Prophecy, as it related to the Oracle, was neither fortune-telling nor divine revelation, but involved a sense of clairvoyance, or the ability to see beyond the five senses. If the petitioner asked after those who had passed, occasionally it could involve channeling the dead. The Power always passed to a female in the Andreas family, but not every female was an eligible candidate. The abilities of those who had the potential to become an Oracle often manifested in either a strong second sight or a connection to things of spirit, and the veil of time could become thin in odd ways.
Both Grace and Petra had shown potential very early, so their grandmother had taught them both the skills and traditions they would need if the Power passed on to them. Grace had her own suspicions about Chloe. The challenge in identifying the ability was that every small child had an active imagination and often chattered to invisible friends. Usually a potential was identified by the time the candidate was around five years of age, because by then it was possible to have enough of a coherent conversation with a child to confirm the presence of the ability.
Whatever might happen to Grace, whether she lived a long life or died young, little baby Max would never become the Oracle. The Power never transferred to the Andreas males, and they never demonstrated the ability, although they could father daughters who were potentials, and some of the men in the family tree had become Powerful witches in their own right.
Grace envied Max for a lot of reasons today.
She put away the groceries that needed to go in the fridge then stood for a few minutes with the door open, relishing the frigid air. She poured herself a glass of cold water, swallowed prescription-strength ibuprofen and limped to the living room. After locking the screen door, she left the front door propped open in the hope of catching wayward breeze.
Next she checked on Max. The little man was still sawing logs, a chubby fist held over one closed eye. Now that was an intense nap. She gathered up his lumpy nine-month-old body. He seemed heavier when he was a dead weight. She took him into the children’s bedroom and eased him into his crib. He didn’t even stir to roll over.
All her immediate tasks were done. She made her slow, tired way back to the living room and sat on the couch with a grunt.
Her gaze fell on the textbooks she had left stacked on the coffee table.
She hadn’t felt ready to go to college directly out of high school. Instead, she had kicked around for a year, dated a few guys and driven across the country with her friend Jacqui so they could dip their big toes in the Pacific Ocean. Then they had driven home again, and Grace had worked in restaurants and saved a little money. She had started college a year late, and as a result, she still hadn’t finished.
This past spring was supposed to be her final semester. Petra, Niko and Grace had been happy when they had gone out to eat that rainy Friday night. Grace’s spring break had just begun, and Niko had found out he had gotten a raise at work.