

CHAPTER ONE
from I Scream You Scream: A Bethany James Novel
by Beverly Zech
Author’s Note
Welcome to the Bethany James chaos. Here's an excerpt from Chapter One, where the fun begins. Pour a glass of wine, settle in, and meet the odd duck whose life is about to get very weird.
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Chapter One
“Wait. Bethany, you’re actually serious?”
I saw the exact moment my best friend’s expression shifted from amused laughter to a look of absolute shock. You know, a wide-eyed, open-mouth, stunned-silent type of look. Perhaps agog is a better term, or stupefied. Regardless of what you want to call it, Kelly sat across my small kitchen table from me, a half-empty bottle of red wine frozen mid-pour in her grip. I gently pried the bottle from her grasp and topped off my glass while she processed the bombshell I’d just dropped.
“So, let me make sure I heard you correctly,” Kelly finally said with exaggerated slowness. “Your grandma Sternberg visited you last night?”
I nodded several times.
“Your dead Grandma Sternberg,” she continued.
This was said more as a point of clarification than question, but I nodded again. “She had her hair up in curlers and wore her favorite housecoat. All things considered, she looked great.”
Kelly pursed her lips and averted her gaze to the ceiling.
She appeared to consider the added information. That, or to keep herself from screaming from exasperation. Hard to tell.
After a few beats, she blew out a breath and returned her attention to me. “And during this visit, dead Grandma Sternberg said you need to remember to floss your teeth and to do a better job cleaning out the fridge?”
I didn’t miss the tone of incredulity in her voice. “Yes,” I replied after I sipped my wine. “She also threatened to visit again the next time I have a man sleep over if I don’t do as she asked. So I immediately got out of bed, brushed and flossed my teeth, and then got to work on the fridge. I might not have a man in my life right now, but I probably will, someday.” I tipped my wineglass toward her. “I am not taking any chances.”
Kelly took her own sip of wine, lightly dabbed at her mouth with the tips of her fingers, and asked with a straight face, “You know how crazy this sounds, don’t you?”
“Really? Which part?”
My best friend since kindergarten let out a frustrated groan.
“The whole damned thing, Bethany. You just said your dead grandma visited you as a ghost and is worried about your hygiene and cleaning habits. If you tell this story to anyone else, you’ll end up in the county mental ward. Hell, I’m thinking you might want to visit a shrink before you start seeing any more of your dead relatives wandering around this old farmhouse.”
I had a feeling nearly all the people I shared this story with would be skeptical, too, but I doubted it would change their opinion of me. Most residents in my teeny, tiny town of Monpetite, Missouri, population four hundred ninety-eight, already thought I was a bit of an odd duck. I had absolutely no problem being viewed as an odd duck, though. Odd ducks are, by far, more interesting than regular ducks, in my humble opinion.
“Unfortunately, every word of this story is absolutely true. One hundred percent.” And it was. “Last night, before I turned off my bedside lamp, a cold draft blew through my bedroom. When I looked to see where the breeze had come from, I discovered Grandma Sternberg materializing in the doorway. She was transparent, levitating, and had no legs or feet, but it was clearly her.”
“No legs or feet?” Kelly cocked an eyebrow. “How much wine did you drink before this visit? Or was it bourbon?”
“I can’t explain the legs or feet thing. That’s just what I saw. Believe me when I tell you, I hadn’t had a drop of anything. And before you ask, no, I had not been sleeping, either. This wasn’t a dream. The experience was very real.”
Kelly sat in silent contemplation a few long moments, her gaze distant, as if allowing the situation to marinate in her mind. I took this opportunity, out of an abundance of caution to prevent future spectral interventions, to do a quick cleanliness check of my kitchen. The small room was the heart of my 1892 farmhouse. Although terribly outdated, the space was tidy. The yellow laminate countertops were wiped clean. The linoleum floor had a few breadcrumbs littered about, but was otherwise presentable. And the dishes in the sink had been dirtied earlier with dinner.
All in all, not too bad. Nothing to make Grandma Sternberg grumpy enough to haunt me a second night. At least, I hoped so. I loved Grandma Sternberg to pieces, but at some point, she had to come to terms with my not being Missouri’s best housekeeper.
“Okay. I believe you,” Kelly finally said with a definitive nod, sweeping her light brown, straight-as-a-ruler hair over her shoulders.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she continued, “you’ve said and done pretty crazy things in your life, but you’ve never fibbed. Not to me or anyone that I know of. Not once.”
I raised my wineglass again. “And I never will. Promise.”
“I’ll drink to that.” She sipped her wine. As she placed her glass back on the table, her expression unexpectedly morphed from skeptical to inquisitive. She leaned closer. “So, were you afraid? I mean, when you saw Grandma Sternberg’s ghost standing in your doorway. I think I would have freaked out.”
The question rolled over in my mind a few times. “Not really. The experience was more surprising than anything else. Seeing Grandma was actually quite nice, even if she was still bossing me around from beyond the grave, and her hair was smoking.”
“What?” Kelly’s brown eyes grew to the size of grapefruits. “Her hair was smoking?”
I shrugged. “I guess when you die from being struck by lightning, the aftereffects stick with you in the afterlife. I could smell singed hair mixed with her Estee Lauder Youth-Dew perfume when she materialized. Let me tell you, that particular combination of scents is powerful enough to make your eyes water. Wowza.”
Kelly wrinkled her nose. “I can’t imagine.”
I lifted my chin so I was talking to the kitchen’s popcorn ceiling as though it were Heaven. “Grandma, if you’re listening, I hate to tell you I told you so, but asking God to strike you down every time you tried to prove you weren’t lying was bound to catch up with you. And it did.”
“Your grandma did say that a lot.” Kelly made the sign of the cross and bowed her head. “May she rest in peace.”
“May you rest in peace. I love you and miss you.” I raised my wineglass in a toast to my beloved grandma before taking a sip.
Kelly’s warm hand covered mine, and she gently squeezed. “She loved you, too. She left this entire farm to you. I think your grandma did so because she wanted to take care of you, even when she’s not here.”
“You’re probably right.”
“Oh, I know I am.” Kelly retracted her hand after another squeeze. “I’m curious, though, did dead Grandma Sternberg say anything else last night? Any amazing revelations? Tips on the stock market? I want to hear everything.”
My belly tightened, and I hoped like the dickens my face didn’t give my internal misgivings away. All day long, I had debated whether or not to share the other things Grandma Sternberg had said, knowing doing so would somehow validate Kelly’s strong belief that I finally needed to spread my wings and get the hell out of Dodge, as it were. My lifelong friend had badgered me for years to finally leave Monpetite and see the world. Apparently, she and Grandma Sternberg agreed on that particular subject.
I heaved a sigh, then reluctantly nodded, dreading the conversation I knew was coming. “Grandma said my life is too
small. The time had come for me to live for the day and only come back to the farm when I had tired myself out. I need to leave Monpetite and start living a more interesting life. Leave, leave, leave is what she repeated over and over as she vanished right before my eyes.” I quieted for a moment, mentally replaying my ghostly visit with Grandma, ensuring I wasn’t missing anything.
I wasn’t. Well, except for the part where Grandma said she would also continue to haunt me in a not-so-pleasant way if I didn’t go. But Kelly didn’t need to know that.
“Grandma thinks you need to get out and expand your world. Oh, man. That sounds so like her.” Kelly laughed. “You have to admit, you’re not the same adventurous soul you used to be. You’re getting soft, Bethany. Losing your edge. You need to listen to her advice. Go see the world and discover its mysteries like you wanted to before you got sucked into the Monpetite vortex.”
“First of all, my world is just fine,” I said, my voice dripping with indignation. “If you recall, I jumped from a plane and parachuted down to the middle of the Monpetite Fourth of July celebration for my birthday.” I channeled my inner teacher and cocked an eyebrow as high as it would rise on my forehead, hoping my stern educator look would have the same intimidating effect it did on my students. “I’m still the adventurous soul I’ve always been.”
“Pfff.” She waved a hand, all dismissive flair. “That was sixteen years ago on your twenty-fifth birthday. Old news, Bethany.”
Clearly, even after years of practice with my students, my stern educator look did not evoke the same impact on people who knew me well. I needed to work on that. “Secondly,” I responded, undeterred, “I haven’t had time to do anything lately. Grandma Sternberg has only been dead a year. I’ve just gotten this old farm to the point where I can do any traveling. I’ve leased out the farm’s fields, sold most of the cattle, and Grandma’s old dog passed before Thanksgiving. So I’m finally a total GO for a good, long trip once school is out for the summer. That is, of course, after I’ve cleaned my classroom and finished all my teacher in-service days…” My voice trailed off as even I could hear just how dull it all sounded.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Bethany. Boooooring.” She stretched out the word an obnoxiously extended time. “And a long vacation is not what she meant. You know it. I know it.”
Quite suddenly, Kelly scooted back in her chair, marched her five-foot-six, corn-fed body around the kitchen table, and grabbed my hand. “Come with me.”
My friend dragged me through my small but cozy living room, up the narrow flight of stairs to the second floor, and into my bedroom. The row of windows near my bed showcased the colors of the evening sky, and I made a hasty glance out the frosty panes to check it out. The snow had stopped falling, and a beautiful sunset now stained the remaining clouds with hues of red, pink, and orange over the distant rolling hills.
Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.
I always thought of that old mariner’s saying when I saw brilliantly colored sunsets. If I had any plans to leave the farm, which I didn’t, tomorrow would most likely be a good day for being out and about. But a lazy day snuggled with a good book on my old couch in front of the fireplace was on my agenda. That and many, many cups of hot chocolate.
Hmmm. Maybe I did need to get out more.
“You probably don’t even notice these anymore because they’ve been up for so long. Let’s take a good look at them, shall we?” Kelly slowly turned around in the center of the room and pointed to each of the large posters on the walls.
The endeavor took a few minutes. I had at least fifteen somewhat-tattered posters plastered everywhere. She was right, though. Like a strong scent I’d grown used to and could no longer smell, I rarely noticed the posters anymore. These old views of places from around the world and things that fascinated me had hung in my childhood bedroom forever. When I’d inherited the farmhouse, these relics from my past had come when I moved in. I had seen them so often they blended into my surroundings, unregistered in my mind.
“When we were young, you obsessed about traveling to each of these places or doing the things these pictures represented.” She stood near a Raiders of the Lost Ark movie poster and nodded at Harrison Ford’s face. “You were convinced you were going to be a real Indiana Jones. You blabbered non-stop about exciting adventures and exploring the world.”
Kelly pointed to a nearby poster of a scene from a Greek island overlooking the deep blue Mediterranean. “You were going to learn how to scuba dive and find Atlantis.” She stepped to a poster of a sun setting on an African savanna. “You dreamed of being a doctor without borders, discovering new and exotic diseases to cure while communing with natives.” She turned to me. “You used to create the best adventures when we were kids. You made my childhood one amazing escapade after another. The more daring, the better. If I had a dollar for every bump, scrape, and broken bone I got while we were on our adventure capers, I’d be a millionaire.”
I put up my hands in surrender. “Trust me, I remember. I’d be a millionaire, too. But then…we got older.”
She shook her head. “We might have grown older, but you’ve always carried a burning desire to see new places, explore the unknown, and live an extraordinary life. You know very well you have. But like I said, you just got sucked into the Monpetite vortex. Once you graduated from college, rather than getting a master’s and then a doctorate to teach history at universities around the world, you came back home and never left.”
I internally grimaced. Every word Kelly said was true, and hearing that truth was like a punch in the belly. It didn’t change the facts of my previous situations, though. “My mom got cancer and needed my help. So, of course, I came back home. Someone had to take care of her. Dad was too busy farming to give her the help she needed, and God knows my brother, Craig, couldn’t be pulled from law school to do anything. I feel really lucky to have gotten a job teaching in Monpetite until Mom was better.”
“And then what happened? You’ve been teaching at the high school for twenty years. Your mom has been in remission and has been back to work at your parents’ farm for over fifteen years. Fifteen years is a hell of a lot of time wasted not doing what you’ve always wanted to do. You’ll never get those fifteen years back.”
Every word she uttered stung as though I’d been attacked by hornets. I prepared to voice my defense and stop her sharp-edged barrage, but she didn’t give me a chance to slip in a single word.
“Okay, wasted isn’t fair. You continued to help your parents and anyone else in need, then you helped your grandmother. You’ve also been a great teacher and got a lot of kids excited about history and seeing the world for themselves. Yada, yada, yada.” Kelly’s shoulders fell, and she dropped herself on the side of my bed. “What I’m trying to say is it’s time for you to do all the things you’ve always wanted to do. You’re still young. You’ve saved your pennies your entire life, and you just inherited a bundle, plus an entire damned farm, so money isn’t an issue. There’s literally nothing stopping you from going on grand adventures and living that extraordinary life of your dreams.” Kelly raised her gaze to mine and held it. “Nothing but you.”
My lips opened and closed several times like a gaping fish. With the use of her simple, final sentence, Kelly knocked the wind out of my sails.
My mouth was temporarily out of commission. My brain, however, was not. It scrambled, searching its murky depths to piece together a grand counterattack. I waited a few seconds before saying or doing anything, giving my very capable, albeit wine-soaked human computer time to finish said counterattack and then launch it.
Several more seconds passed, though, and nothing happened. Not a single flaming retort popped into my head.
I waited a bit more, willing my brain to finally get its act together and come up with something to defend my honor. Meanwhile, my heart had decided to join in on the action by pounding loud enough to drown out any other noise.
I took a long look at the posters to the right of me and then the left, hoping to find inspiration for my argument. Instead, I found more to support Kelly’s. The poster with the panorama of a couple on a hill taking in the views of Machu Picchu, backpacks snugly attached to their young bodies, struck me particularly hard. As did the poster of the eight most haunted castles in the world. Sure, I had seen Grandma Sternberg as a ghost, which had been truly exciting, but the thought of being visited by Vlad the Impaler at Hunyadi Castle, or the ghostly handmaiden at Stirling Castle, was beyond thrilling. What a rush all these things would be.
After a few more moments of taking in scenes of ziplining tourists in New Zealand, people whitewater rafting in Costa Rica, and all the others, my mouth, brain, and heart all came to the same conclusion. Kelly was right. The only person who had truly stopped me from doing any of these things had been me. “Oh, my God.” I plopped down onto the floor, my mouth suddenly dry from swallowing the bitter truth. How had I allowed so much time to pass before cluing into the reality of my situation?
Fifteen years!
Those years may have been full of activity, but not the kind I had anticipated. Definitely not the kind I had dreamed of. And those precious fifteen years had flown by in the blink of an eye. Somehow, in that time, I had lulled myself into the contentment of ordinary living. Lazy days reading adventure books rather than living out my own adventures. Time in a classroom teaching children about the richness of the world rather than experiencing those riches for myself. Even my grand, albeit short, vacations during summer breaks had been relatively tame compared to the antics I had once imagined.
I would be forty-two in July. I hadn’t really thought much about my age until now, but this summer I would squarely hit middle age. I would be at the top of my life expectancy hill and would soon be slowly coasting down it toward death.
Holy crap.
And what did I have to show for my time on this planet so far? Which of my dreams had I made come true?
The sad, sad answers were nothing and none. Zip. Nada.
Maybe I wasn’t the adventurous, risk-taking odd duck I thought I was. Somehow, I had become the George Bailey in my own version of It’s a Wonderful Life. “What have I done?” The words felt like boulders dropping into the pit of my stomach. Their heaviness was almost too much to bear.
“Nothing that can’t be fixed.” Kelly rose from the bed and then joined me, cross-legged, on the floor. She reached for my hands and held them in hers. “Tonight, you begin your journey toward an extraordinary life, and I’m here to help you. We’re finding you a new, fabulously exciting job.”
