Sydney got out of bed and walked to the bay window. She sat on the built-in seat and stared out into the night. A partial moon shone down on the lake affording enough light to see the magnolia grove. She stared at the trees, digesting what this latest post in her mother"s diary had divulged. She now knew without any uncertainty that who she thought as a child was an imaginary friend, and who she"d come to know as a spirit these past weeks, was now her mother, Chelsea Grey. The weight of it compressed on her chest. If her mother"s spirit was here along with Sydney"s grandfather"s spirit, it meant she was dead. A chill ran through her body. The knowledge of it opened up a new set of questions to which Sydney had no answers. Why are you here at the farmhouse? How did you die? What are you try
