Oh my God, what just happened?
Besieged with mental images and a racing heart, Twyla doesn’t notice Harrison Dox leave or return to the parlor until he places a glass of water in her hand and sets a mug of coffee on the table. She steadies her nerves with a deep breath, lifts and guzzles the full glass of water.
“Better?” Harrison asks.
“Yes, much. Thank you,” she says, wiping her bottom lip. “It’s just low blood sugar,” she lies, remembering mom’s constant excuse whenever spectral energy overwhelmed her. She sits the tumbler on the coffee table and sticks her hands between her thighs with a tight squeeze to stop the trembling.
What the heck is happening this morning? The boggy wraith, the corridor… I’m seeing Grams’ and Papa’s apparitions. This day can’t get any weirder. The chill in
