“Yes, yes. He sat next to me at the theater. I couldn’t believe it. He looked exactly like you said he would.”

“And you did as he suggested?”

“He was quite surprised when I knew he had a business venture. I believe he was impressed.”

“I am relieved, Adele. I could not leave you a fortune, but now you will have one.”

“I’m so grateful, Arthur. Thank you so much.” Was she weeping? She seemed to be. How effective.

Peter fell silent, and after a few minutes, Mrs. Regis said, “Arthur, are you still there?”

Apparently not. Peter did not answer, but after another moment, he said, “Mrs. Bates, are you there?”

Mother Bates perked up, although she glanced at Elizabeth in case he meant her. “Who’s there?” Mother Bates asked.

“Your mother. She wants you to know she is very peaceful. The pain is gone.”

“That’s . . . good to know,” Mother Bates said weakly.

Before she could say more, Mrs. Kirkwood said, “Do you have a message for me, Brother Peter?”

They all jumped when Peter let out a tortured moan.

“What is it?” Mrs. Kirkwood demanded desperately. “Who’s there?”

“I cannot rest.”

“Wesley, is that you, son?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“You must find me. You must bring me home.”

“I want to, but they said you were lost,” Mrs. Kirkwood said, and she was weeping, too. This was very sad. “They couldn’t find you.”

“I will tell you. You must find me and bring me home so I can rest.”

Elizabeth wanted to squirm in her chair. How awful. Many people had lost young men in the war, and most of them were buried in France, so very far away, if they were lucky enough to have remains to bury at all. This was disgraceful. She wanted to scream.

“But how can I do that?” Mrs. Kirkwood asked brokenly. “How can I go to France?”

“I will send someone to you. They will help you find me.”

“Who will you send? How will I know?”

“You will know. They will tell you.”

“But how will I get to France? How will I—”

“Do not question me,” Peter said in a voice that sent shivers up Elizabeth’s spine.

“I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Kirkwood said, nearly sobbing now. “I didn’t mean to . . . I would never . . . Please forgive me!”

“Do not doubt. You must believe.”

“I do!” she insisted. “I do believe. You’ll see. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Elizabeth drew a calming breath, keeping her eyes closed and waiting, ready for just about anything.

“Elizabeth?” Peter said, and this time his voice was gentle, as if speaking to a frightened child. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” she said timidly.

“Someone here has a message for you.”

Elizabeth opened her eyes and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

CHAPTER FIVE