Chapter 12

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 Sage  

Chapter 12

“It’s ready!” Mrs. Utt yells from upstairs.

“Coming!” Marimar yells back.  She lets go of my arm and she runs upstairs and turns the light on.  Chicken.  I walk as fast as I can towards the rack and I position the camcorder so it is facing the direction where we heard the ghost takeoff.  “Hurry, Up!”

“I’m coming.”  I turn and walk briskly up the stairs trying to look as casual as I can.  We both go through the door.  As she looks back I can see her face reflecting how I feel.   Her eyes are full of terror — they remind me of a deer in headlights.  Her olive skin looks as white as a sheet; even her red strawberry lips are pale.  I sure hope I don’t look that scared.  I also hope she didn’t feel me shaking.  Damn.  The camera, did I hold it steady or will it give me away?  If anyone sees it shaking I’ll have to give up my man card.

“You two must be freezing.  Did you guys find the ghost?” Mrs. Utt asks with a laugh.

I answer with a dull, “No, ma’am.”  Marimar is still frightened speechless.

“Wash your hands and then go sit down at the breakfast room table.  I put the bread on the table.”

“All right,” is all Marimar can manage.

“Marimar, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.  Splash some water on your face, that’ll help you.”  Mrs. Utt’s voice is serious yet light.  I can see the laughter dancing behind her eyes.  Just like how Marimar’s eyes can look sometimes.

We go down the hall to wash up and then come back to the breakfast area.  This time I really notice the big room on the right across from it.  I peek my head in and see a huge, dark wooden bookcase on my left against the wall of the breakfast area.  There is a fire place along the back wall and on the far wall across from the book case is a large flat screen TV in between two heavily curtained windows.  The furniture is antique and dark, matching the bookcase and the crown molding.  The wooden floor is also dark with an antique Persian rug covering most of the room.  It reminds me of a set from any classic horror film, except for the flat screen and electronics on the far wall.  Come to think of it.  This whole house looks like a classic horror movie set.

We haven’t spoken a word since we left the kitchen.  I’m too frustrated for words.  I just might have caught a real ghost on camera.  I really need to talk to her about polishing up on her listening skills.  On the plus side is the one-on-one time I’m getting with Mar, but right now I’m a little too ticked off to enjoy it.  Mar tugs on my arm and I follow her into the breakfast room.  Mrs. Utt is already there and she’s pouring some coffee into a cup. 

“You two looked cold so I thought I would get you something to warm you up.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I say trying to put some sugar back into my voice.

“Gracias, Mama,” Marimar says, her voice regaining control.

I hate coffee.  It sucks!  How can anybody like this stuff?  It’s like drinking dirt, it’s so bitter.  What’s with this family and watching my every move?  Mar’s ma is staring at me.  I blow on it before I take a sip; I can hear Mar giggling at the memory of me scorching my tongue.  I try hard not to roll my eyes at her.  Mmm.  What did she put in here?  This is the best cup of Joe I’ve ever had.

“This is the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had.”  Mrs. Utt seems well pleased.

“I thought you’d like it, I put in a splash of vanilla.  Do you want anymore sugar?”

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