"But that means she had nothing to tie her here." No outstanding business, nothing to say to anyone. Nothing to say to me. How could she not want to tell me about my father when she knew how important it was to me?
"There is an aunt in the Waiting Area though. Do you want to summon her?"
"An aunt? You mean my aunt?"
He smiled. "Yes, your aunt. Your mother's sister, a Mrs. Catherine Sloane. She died about a month ago and hasn't yet crossed."
"I have an aunt? Had," I corrected myself. Catherine Sloane was dead.
He nodded. "She might know...something about your mother." He was too much of a gentleman to mention the unmentionable-the question of my father's identity. "Do you want to summon her?"
I caught his fingers and squeezed. He stared at our linked hands, a look of alarm on his face. Then he squeezed back. "Yes," I said. "Yes I do."
He separated our hands. "Then I'll leave you alone to talk."
"No! I want you to stay." At his puzzled expression, I added, "Unless you've got something better to do."
He barked a short, harsh laugh. "Not really." He stood by the mantelpiece and held out his hand in a go-on gesture.
I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I summon Catherine Sloane from the Waiting Area. Do you hear me, Catherine Sloane? Someone in this realm needs to talk to you." To call a ghost to this world, a medium simply needs to phrase the request and use the ghost's name. The portal to the Waiting Area is always opened for us-or for me. As far as I knew, I was the only legitimate medium in the world.
A woman of about sixty appeared between Jacob and I. She faded in and out two or three times until she finally maintained a presence, albeit a flimsy one. I'd seen gauze curtains with more strength than her.
She was a taller version of my mother. Mama had been short like me with soft brown hair and curves. Aunt Catherine had the same nose, same mouth, same eyes as her older sister but they were somehow more masculine. The nose was a little longer, the eyes set deeper, the mouth firmer. She wore an ankle-length nightgown and her long gray hair hung loose.
Aunt Catherine stared at me for a long time, her gaze assessing. If her lack of a smile was any indication, she didn't approve of what she saw.
"Aunt Catherine?" I asked, just to be sure.
She inclined her head. "I suppose I must be if you are Miss Emily Chambers."