If my life was hectic before Aunt Rosie’s demise, the last couple of weeks of planning a large, dysfunctional family funeral tipped the scales. The word ‘fun’ in ‘funeral’ was anything but fun.

Though Ralph and I had split up the duties of arrangements, I ended up doing everything. He claimed he was too distraught to call her friends and relatives, but it turned out he was busy hocking her jewelry to pay his gambling debts. And in between rifling through her things, he emptied her liquor cabinet. They say addictions come in twos.

I was still suspicious about Aunt Rosie’s sudden death. I shared my uneasiness with my husband, who, like me, wasn’t one to cause waves in the family makeup.

“Be thankful Ralph is burying her rather than cremating her. At least if something comes to light, they can exhume her body later.”

“I suppose. Why go through the hassle of getting a body exhumed? We should question her death.”

“Honey, lots of people die suddenly. When it’s our time, it’s our time. We have no say over these things.” He put his arms around me. As my nose pressed into his chest, the smell of cologne on his shirt gave me tingles. My instincts said he was being supportive, but I found it annoying.

“But this was Aunt Rosie,” I said as I pulled away from him. “You didn’t know her like I did. She was strong and healthy. The only pills she took were vitamins.” I sighed. “Ralph knows more than he’s willing to share. I wish I knew what, though.” I bit hard on my lower lip.

My husband kissed me on the forehead. “You’re stressing about things you have no control over.” He patted me on the shoulder and walked into his office. His typical ‘you’re dismissed’ gesture.

“I need to get to the bottom of it. It’s what Aunt Rosie would expect me to do.”

I changed into my running outfit and grabbed my headset. My selection on Bluetooth was for a local personalities podcast, Roxanne, The Southern Medium. She was a famous local spirit guide. Many turned to her when they had a haunting in their home. Maybe she could contact Aunt Rosie’s spirit?

I phoned my friend Lucy to get Roxanne’s number when I finished my run.

Lucy had friends over one night when she wanted to rid her home of spirits. The job Roxanne did was incredible. It was worth a try.

I called my aunt’s friends to tell them of her passing, but I needed nine yesses to host a séance. Not everyone was as open-minded as my aunt, so I had to pick them carefully. My friends wanted to help once I told them my suspicions. Roxanne’s time was limited because she was so popular, and it was summer. Her reputation proceeded her over the country. Tourists traveled long distances to book an appointment with her.

This is how wealthy privilege works. 

I left a message: Hi Roxanne, my name is Savannah Blakely. My aunt was Rosie Dawson-Harper, daughter of Jess Dawson. They own a large farm on the outskirts of town. I’m her niece, and I met you at Lucy’s house about a year ago. I very much would like to contact my aunt. You’re the best person who can help me. I know you’re busy, but I was hoping you had an opening in your schedule. My number is (912) 555-6727. I’ll make it worth your while. Thank you.

Less than twenty-four hours later, Roxanne called me back.

“My lordy, I can’t believe you contacted me.” She stated when I answered, “Ah knew your dear old aunt. She hosted me many times in her beautiful home. What is the issue?”

“I’m not sure. In my gut, I feel somethin’s odd about her sudden passing. She was healthy, with no obvious heart issues. In her distress, she called me and asked for help.”

“Ah, read you were the one who found her?”

“Yes, it wasn’t pleasant. My cousin Ralph, her son, is the executor of her will and was named as her health directive. He decided no autopsy, and she’ll be buried in the family plot on the property. I hope you’ll be coming to the service?”

“Of course, I’ll be there. But what can I do for you now?”

“I’d love to hold a séance in Aunt Rosie’s house. If you can channel her, I hope she will tell me something about her last night alive.”

“Why is that significant?” she asked.

“My cousin Ralph was the last person to be with her. He claims she complained about a stomachache after eating a light dinner. Ralph has a gambling problem. From what I’ve seen these last few weeks, an alcohol problem on top of it. I think he knows more than he’s sharing.”

“Let me look here at mah schedule.” There was a pause on the phone. I could hear pages turning as Roxanne looked at her calendar.

“Hmm, it seems I have a 9:00 p.m. Is that too late for you?”

“No, the time is fine. It’s the date. I want to be sure I can get nine ladies there.”

“Sure, sure. Wednesday, July 27th, is when I can squeeze you in. Does that sound doable?”

“I’ll make it doable! Thank you so much. You know her address on Tea Tree Lane, right?”

“Oh, yes. Like I said, I’ve been there many times. I loved your dear Aunt Rosie. She was a kindred spirit. It will be my pleasure to contact her for you. I’ll call you the day before to confirm.”

“Thank you so much. I appreciate you squeezing me in.”

After we hung up, I immediately called Lucy and told her the news.

“It will be after the funeral, which is okay. Can you ask the same group that was at your house? We seem to have the positive energy to bring spirits through.”

“They’ll be thrilled. I’ll make all the arrangements. And be sure there is wine. That will entice them even more.” Lucy laughed.

That’s taken care of, Aunt Rosie. I’m doing this for you, so you better come through.

I threw on a sundress and a pair of sandals, grabbed my sunglasses and car keys, and headed out to my car. Ralph shouldn’t be in the house when we do this. I had to devise an excuse for why he needed to be gone. The sooner I told him, the better.

Traffic was light for a June morning. The usual tourist mob must be sleeping late, and the forecast called for thunderstorms, but not till the afternoon. It was warm but not too humid, so I put the top down on my Jeep and placed the ball cap I kept on the passenger seat on my head, tucking my hair behind my ears.

My compilation of Blake Shelton songs played on a CD, and I turned it up loud. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror and grabbed the lipstick from my purse. My friends were amazed I could put lipstick on without looking in a mirror and get it perfect.

The Jeep rolled up the dirt driveway, and I stopped halfway to the house to take a picture. I’ll never tire of this view. I didn’t see Cousin Ralph’s Beemer at the roundabout, but Uncle Jed’s old Ford truck blocked the entrance steps.

“Hey there, Ms. Savannah.” Uncle Jeb greeted me. He was standing in the front door, smoking a cigarette. With his only hand, he raised it in a wave. His left arm, up to his elbow, was missing. “Freak accident.” He’d tell people. “Never drive with ya arm out da window.” He was driving down an old country dirt road when another truck coming the other way passed him too close. According to his story, he felt a tug, and his arm was missing when he looked. Drove himself to the hospital, where he needed a blood transfusion and stitches. Said he returned to the fields the next day. His buddies said, “They don’t make ’em like old Jeb anymore.”

I walked up the stairs and hugged him. “How ya hold’in up?” he asked. He didn’t have his teeth in and smacked his gums.

“Hanging in there. Is Ralph around?”

“Nah, he left early this morn’in. Asked me to come around and see to the fields. Guess he gots a farmer coming out to look at the back forty.”

“Boy, he didn’t miss a beat now, did he?”

“If you ask’in me, that boy is trouble. Too many gambling debts. Hangs out at them there strip clubs, paying for the dirty deed, if ya know what I mean? Ah hopes your Aunt Rosie was smart’s with the money she left. If ya ask’in me? You’se and me should be in that there will, too.”

“Well, we won’t know Uncle Jeb until the lawyer reads it after the funeral.”

“Speak’in a which, when is it?”

“Next Saturday. We’ll bury her in the family plot and have a reception afterward. Which is why I stopped by.”

“Sure, sure. Well, I best be hightailing it back to the forty. It was good seeing your pretty face. Don’t be a stranger. Come by and see me and your Aunt Thelma one of these days.”

“I promise. I’ll make it a point to come out and visit y’all.”

Uncle Jeb hugged me one more time and walked to his old truck. As he pulled away, he raised his stump in a wave.

A cloud of dirt followed him down the driveway. He pulled off to the right to head out to the fields.

I walked into the foyer from the front door, and I could smell Aunt Rosie’s perfume and the left-over stench of Uncle Jeb’s cigarette. I headed towards the parlor and stopped in the doorway. The chair where I had found my aunt, clutching her chest, mouth wide open, eyes half shut, had been moved.

The mirror behind the bar showed my reflection, and a younger woman with long, dark hair and black eyes stood behind me. Those eyes bore a hole in my soul. I turned with a jolt to confront her, but the room was empty. The hair on my arms stood up like an electrical charge pierced the air.

“Who are you?” I called out.

“Who do you want me to be?” Ralph stood in the entranceway, chuckling. “You look like you just saw a ghost. Are you okay?” He walked toward me. “Here, sit down.” Guiding me to an armchair, he went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

“Thank you,” I said as I took the offered glass and drank it down.

“Did you see a ghost?” He asked.

“I’m not sure what I saw, but I think she was trying to tell me something.” Ralph looked more amused than concerned.

Editor: Michelle Naragon