Walk of the Spirits Quotes

“I thought you liked suffering and death. I mean... you always look like suffering and death.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Gage wants to know more about his neighbor, Miss Dupree the one who keeps getting undressed at night with the curtains open and the lights on.In mock horror,Parker swung in his chair. Hey! you and Ashley are Gage's neighbors!”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“I meant the house behind him clutching his chest, Parker gasped. Gage! you pervert! That's Mrs. Falconi-she's ninety-six years old! Clearing her throat,Miss Dupree struggled to keep her own amusement in check. Thank you Roo,for that fascinating bit of information. And should any of us a pervert lurking outside our windows tonight, We can all rest easily now,Knowing it's only Gage.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“You know what? As sad as I know this will make you, ladies, I’m going home and to bed. Alone.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“It would have been so easy for her--men would have told her anything. They’d have given up secret information just like that.” Snapping her fingers, Ashley coolly confronted Parker’s indignation.
“Come on, give us guys a little credit. Why would any high-ranking officer share classified information with his little groupie, huh?”
“Because those high-ranking officers were men.” Roo’s stare was as condescending as her tone. “And men only think with their--”
“Downstairs brain,” Ashley finished.
While the guys conceded with slight embarrassment, Roo and Miranda laughed. “Good one, Ash.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“They were nearing Hayes House now. As the group turned off the Brickway and onto the side street, Miranda purposefully lagged behind. Soft lights glowed from the Hayes House veranda and out across the lawn, and it dawned on her that she was smiling again.
I thought I’d never be happy here.
She stopped to gaze up at the windows. And back toward the stone wall that bordered the long-ago battlefield.
“Help us…we’re lost…we want to go home…”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll help you. And I’ll listen. And I won’t turn you away.”
Because, after all, there was time. All the time in the world.
All the time in both our worlds.
Miranda lifted her head into the sweet, southern breeze…
And smelled roses.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Well,” Etienne mumbled to Miranda as they trailed a watchful distance behind the crowd, “they’re looking scared at all the right times. And they’re laughing at all the right jokes. That’s a good sign, yeah?”
“It’s better than good,” Miranda agreed with him. “It’s great. It’s unbelievable.”
“She threatened them,” Parker muttered, jerking his chin toward Miss Dupree. “I knew it! Damn! She bribed them and she threatened them.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Well,” Etienne mumbled to Miranda as they trailed a watchful distance behind the crowd, “they’re looking scared at all the right times. And they’re laughing at all the right jokes. That’s a good sign, yeah?”
“It’s better than good,” Miranda agreed with him. “It’s great. It’s unbelievable.”
“She threatened them,” Parker muttered, jerking his chin toward Miss Dupree. “I knew it! Damn! She bribed them and she threatened them.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Miranda said truthfully. “I think it’s really the subject matter. It’s all so fascinating. And Ashley, of course. She’s also fascinating.”
“Look at her,” Roo pointed out. “Didn’t I tell you? She’s got every single one of them in the palm of her hand.”
Etienne couldn’t resist. “You mean right where she’s got Parker?”
“Well,” Roo shot Parker a look. “Of course, some conquests are much easier than others. Especially with species of primitive brain.”
“Is she just talking about Parker?” Etienne raised an eyebrow at Gage. “Or you and me, too?”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Well,” Parker managed to croak. “Better light up your lantern, Miss Ashley. It’s showtime.”
Ashley stared. Her eyes went saucer-wide, and she clutched her stomach. “I don’t think I can go out there, y’all. There’s too many people!”
As the others stared back at her, Etienne made a strangling motion with his hands. “Shall I do the honors? Or does everybody want a turn?”
He and Parker promptly escorted Ashley out the door. Roo fell into step beside Miranda, with Gage bringing up the rear.
“Just watch her.” Roo’s tone held mild but sincere admiration. “She’s a pro.”
Roo was right. As Ashley swept onto the steps, an audible sigh went through the crowd. Ashley dipped and swayed, both sweet and seductive, her voice flowing honey-warm.
“Why, welcome, y’all. Welcome to our Walk of the Spirits.”
And so it went. Step by entertaining step along the Brickway, Ashley enticed and enthralled and utterly charmed the tour group. The history and heritage of St. Yvette came magically alive.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Well,” Parker managed to croak. “Better light up your lantern, Miss Ashley. It’s showtime.”
Ashley stared. Her eyes went saucer-wide, and she clutched her stomach. “I don’t think I can go out there, y’all. There’s too many people!”
As the others stared back at her, Etienne made a strangling motion with his hands. “Shall I do the honors? Or does everybody want a turn?”
He and Parker promptly escorted Ashley out the door.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“There’s Miss Dupree!” As Parker joined Ashley at the window, the girl bounced eagerly on her tiptoes, using his arm for leverage. “Oh my God--it looks like our whole class is really here.”
Parker scowled. “She probably bribed them. She probably told them she’d give them A’s on all their projects if they came and walked through ours.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“For the millionth time, this counts for half our grade. And we can’t very well have a Walk of the Spirits if there’s nobody to walk with.”
Miranda opted for practicality. “Well, we know Miss Dupree and our class will be here. And I know my mom and Aunt Teeta are coming.”
“My folks, too,” Gage added. “And some of the other kids at school--they said they were interested.”
“Yeah. In laughing at us.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“What if nobody comes?” Ashley wrung her hands.
“They’ll show up,” Roo assured her.
“If nobody shows up, it’ll be my absolute worst nightmare.”
Blowing his nose into a tissue, Parker looked up with bleary eyes. “And if you don’t stop talking about it, it’ll be my absolute worst nightmare.”
“Parker Wilmington, how can you say that? For the millionth time, this counts for half our grade. And we can’t very well have a Walk of the Spirits if there’s nobody to walk with.”
Miranda opted for practicality. “Well, we know Miss Dupree and our class will be here. And I know my mom and Aunt Teeta are coming.”
“My folks, too,” Gage added. “And some of the other kids at school--they said they were interested.”
“Yeah. In laughing at us.” Flopping into a chair, Parker slid low on his spine. His voice was even hoarser than yesterday, and he winced each time he tried to talk. “Shit, I’ll be glad when this is over.”
Etienne struggled to keep a straight face. “How come? You scared you might see a real ghost?”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“The top clicked open. The rusted hinge gave way.
Through shimmering tears, she saw the tiny scrap of paper that fell out into her palm. Very slowly, she began to unfold it, piece by painstaking piece, all too aware of the delicate memories she was holding.
Even after all this time…
The delicate memories, and fragile lives, and long-ago brittle promises, all of them crumbling into dust between her fingertips.
Yet the message itself remained.
Six simple words, binding two hearts forever:

Nathan, I love you,
Your Ellena.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Parker?”
“Yeah?” He’d gotten up now, gone after his bottle of cough syrup. With one smooth motion he scooped it up, unscrewed the top, and took a satisfied gulp.
“Parker, I…” Something…I know it’s there…I want to remember…“I want you to take me home.”
Parker froze, the bottle at his lips, poised for another swallow. He shot her a sidelong glance.
“This is so sudden, Miranda. I mean, we hardly know each other, and I do have a girlfriend. And there is, of course, the issue of my extremely high moral standards. But…okay. What the hell. I’ll take you home with me.”
“Not your home. My home. Hayes House.”
“What? Hayes House? Oh! Sure! Hayes House! Did you think I meant--that I wanted to--hey, I was just kidding!”
The irreverence was there again, the cocky grin back in place. As Miranda climbed into the passenger seat, Parker slid behind the wheel, then gunned the engine to breakneck speed. In less than five minutes they were squealing into the driveway of Hayes House. But even when Parker reached across and shoved open her door, Miranda made no move to get out.
“Let me guess.” Parker watched her expectantly. “You really do want to go home with me. You were just playing hard to get.”
Slowly Miranda shook her head. She gazed down at the envelope in her lap. “I forgot to give this to Ashley.”
“Forget it. Why the big rush to get here?”
The sound…the rolling sound…it’s close…it’s important. “I’m not sure, Parker. There’s…something--”
“No. Don’t tell me. Whatever it is, I don’t want to see it, hear it, or go through it ever again.”
Getting out of the car, Miranda walked a few steps before turning back to face him. “But aren’t you even curious about what happened to you out in the storm? Don’t you even want to explore all the--”
“Stop right there. There’s lots of things I want to explore, and things I most definitely will explore. But ghosts aren’t one of them. See you later.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“You believe me,” she whispered.
“Okay, fine, I believe you.”
His stare, always so bold, faltered a little. He tilted his head back and made a frustrated sound in his throat.
“We’re not going to be like best girlfriends now, are we?” he accused her. “I mean, you’re not going to be squealing at me every time somebody says the word ghost, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Because…I swear to God, Miranda, if you ever tell anybody--”
Miranda hugged him tighter. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“A soul? Is that supposed to be funny?”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Then, at last, he looked at her again. Gave a sheepish smile, gave a strained, self-conscious laugh. “So what, am I crazy?”
“No.” Reaching out, Miranda firmly took his hand. “No, Parker, you’re not. Not at all.”
Another laugh, more hoarse this time. He tried to clear his throat. His nose was running, and his eyes shone with embarrassed tears; he wiped one sleeve angrily across his cheeks. On a sudden impulse, Miranda threw her arms around him.
“What’s that for?” Parker asked, both flustered and surprised.
“Just…” Miranda pulled back again. She gazed anxiously into his eyes. “Parker…you saw it. You saw it was real.”
He wanted to forget about it, she could tell. He’d opened himself and shown her his fears, and now he wanted to forget it ever happened. But you won’t forget, Parker. You’ll never forget. I’ve been there. I know.
“You believe me,” she whispered.
“Okay, fine, I believe you.”
His stare, always so bold, faltered a little. He tilted his head back and made a frustrated sound in his throat.
“We’re not going to be like best girlfriends now, are we?” he accused her. “I mean, you’re not going to be squealing at me every time somebody says the word ghost, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Because…I swear to God, Miranda, if you ever tell anybody--”
Miranda hugged him tighter. “I won’t tell a soul.”
“A soul? Is that supposed to be funny?”
“I won’t tell anyone. I’m just hugging you because you’re you.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot. Girls want to love me, and guys want to be me.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“I’m going to be so nervous tomorrow,” Ashley confessed, linking her arm through Miranda’s. “What if our whole class hates it?”
“Then I’ll say I told you so,” Parker replied. Roo, Gage, and Etienne had moved several feet ahead to argue something about the script. Hanging back, Parker tried to swallow, but winced at the effort. “Anybody got anything stronger than cough syrup?”
When no one responded, he pointed to his BMW parked along the opposite curb. “You know what? As sad as I know this will make you, ladies, I’m going home and to bed. Alone.”
“Parker--”
“Oh, yeah, right--I’ve got that stupid article in my car. Go on ahead. I’ll give it to Miranda.”
“Parker, do you really feel that terrible?”
“Christ, Ashley, my throat’s like raw hamburger. Is that terrible enough for you believe me?”
The suspicion on Ashley’s face turned to guilt, and Miranda felt just as bad. They both knew Parker had gotten sick trying to save them. Maybe he wasn’t faking so much after all.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“I’m going to be so nervous tomorrow,” Ashley confessed, linking her arm through Miranda’s. “What if our whole class hates it?”
“Then I’ll say I told you so,” Parker replied.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“I mean, Nathan and Ellena and Travis lived and sacrificed and died, protecting those secrets about themselves. If we told their secrets, it would be like betraying them all over again.”
“Or we could call the tabloids and paparazzi,” Parker deadpanned. “They pay big money for secrets and betrayals.”
“Parker Wilmington, if I told even half your secrets and betrayals, I’d be a very rich woman!”
Even Parker looked amused as the group broke into raucous applause.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Each of them really, really loved somebody very much. That’s what I want people to remember.” Ashley put a hand over her heart. “The loves that never die.”
“The loves that made people die.” Parker downed another swig of cough medicine, capped the bottle, then slid it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Sorry, Ash, but that’s not the way of the world. If you tell their real stories, people will only remember all the dumb mistakes they made. Like…oh, you know…torture and murder and arson and treason and--”
“Ah, yes,” Roo acknowledged coolly. “Parker Wilmington, the last of the true romantics.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“I wish we could put Nathan and Ellena and Travis on our walk.” Ashley sighed. “It just doesn’t seem complete without them.”
“They’re on our walk.” Taking Ashley’s notebook, Roo calmly pointed to the neatly lettered, neatly organized tour script. “See? Right here. Magnolia Gallery. Opera house fire.”
“That’s not what I mean. Each of them really, really loved somebody very much. That’s what I want people to remember.” Ashley put a hand over her heart. “The loves that never die.”
“The loves that made people die.” Parker downed another swig of cough medicine, capped the bottle, then slid it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Sorry, Ash, but that’s not the way of the world. If you tell their real stories, people will only remember all the dumb mistakes they made. Like…oh, you know…torture and murder and arson and treason and--”
“Ah, yes,” Roo acknowledged coolly. “Parker Wilmington, the last of the true romantics.”
Retrieving her notebook, Ashley hugged it to her chest. Her sigh was more wistful this time. “I know you’re right. I mean, we can’t ever give away their real secrets. Not on the Walk of the Spirits…not to anybody…not ever. I mean, Nathan and Ellena and Travis lived and sacrificed and died, protecting those secrets about themselves. If we told their secrets, it would be like betraying them all over again.”
“Or we could call the tabloids and paparazzi,” Parker deadpanned. “They pay big money for secrets and betrayals.”
“Parker Wilmington, if I told even half your secrets and betrayals, I’d be a very rich woman!”
Even Parker looked amused as the group broke into raucous applause. Looking entirely pleased with herself, Ashley curtsied, then motioned them all toward the Brickway.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“You’re still kind of pale though,” she worried, gazing at his face, running her finger along one of his cheekbones. “And your face is still pretty thin.”
Gage glanced sideways, trying to avoid the attention. “I’m fine. My leg looks worse than it feels.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Etienne teased him. “You’re just being brave.”
“No, I’m not. It really doesn’t feel that bad.”
“Well, at least you can feel something now,” Parker remarked offhandedly. “The night you got hurt, you couldn’t feel much of anything.”
“I couldn’t?”
“You mean, the girls didn’t tell you?” Feigning concern, Parker shook his head. “Well, they had to…you know…test a lot of places on you. Just to see if you could still feel.”
The flush had already started up Gage’s cheeks.
“That’s true,” Roo agreed. “Of course…some places were a lot more fun to test than others.”
“A whole lot more fun to test than others,” Ashley insisted.
Gage’s embarrassment reached full blush. Hiding a smile, Ashley pressed her palm to his forehead.
“But you’re sure you feel fine now? Because you look a little hot.”
“He is hot,” Roo answered. “Oh. Oh, you mean his temperature.”
“Stop,” poor Gage mumbled. “I’m fine.”
Etienne motioned to Ashley, his expression perfectly serious. “Come on. Y’all know how Gage is--he’s suffering in silence ’cause he doesn’t want to look weak in front of you women.”
“Cut it out,” Gage said.
“No, really. We all know you’re just being modest.”
“Shut up.”
Roo fixed Gage with an owlish stare. “You cried when you broke your leg.”
“I did not.”
“Yes, you did. You cried. You’re a crybaby.”
The best Parker could offer was a sympathetic shrug. “Sorry, little soldier. You cried.”
Gage looked longingly at the truck. Taking pity on him at last, the others stopped teasing and turned their attention back to their project.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“And I’m the only one who gets to dress up! And I can’t wait to wear it! It’s like cotton candy!”
Roo arched an eyebrow. “Sticky?”
“No! All pink and fluffy and…sweet. I love the way I feel in it.”
“I agree,” Parker said hoarsely. “I love the way you feel in it, too. And I love the way you feel out of it even better.”
Roo stared at him. “Wow. You should write greeting cards.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Ashley, what about your costume?”
“I’ve got the final fitting after I leave here.” Ashley’s eyes shone with excitement. “Can you believe Mrs. Wilmington went to all that trouble to make it for me?”
“She didn’t.” Parker scowled. “She got her dressmaker, or designer, or whoever the hell she calls him, to make it for you.”
“Parker, that doesn’t matter--it was still really nice of your mother to do that.”
“You’re a southern belle--how could she resist that?”
Ashley shot Miranda a grateful smile. “That was Miranda’s idea.”
“It made sense,” Miranda explained. “A costume sets the mood. It’s all about southern history and heritage, so our tour guide should be a southern hostess--hoopskirt and all.”
“And I’m the only one who gets to dress up! And I can’t wait to wear it! It’s like cotton candy!”
Roo arched an eyebrow. “Sticky?”
“No! All pink and fluffy and…sweet. I love the way I feel in it.”
“I agree,” Parker said hoarsely. “I love the way you feel in it, too. And I love the way you feel out of it even better.”
Roo stared at him. “Wow. You should write greeting cards.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“You don’t have pneumonia. You’re just jealous because Gage was in worse shape than you, and he got more attention.”
“Well, it’s almost pneumonia. It’s turning into pneumonia.” Tensing, Parker let out a gigantic sneeze. “Shit, I hate this. I feel like my brain’s ten times its normal size.”
Roo gave him a bland stare. “You know, when people lose a leg or an arm, they think they still feel it, even though it’s not really there.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“You like suffering,” Parker reminded her. “And, excuse me, but you’re not the one with pneumonia.”
“You don’t have pneumonia. You’re just jealous because Gage was in worse shape than you, and he got more attention.”
“Well, it’s almost pneumonia. It’s turning into pneumonia.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Okay, y’all,” Ashley announced. “This is our dress rehearsal. Our last chance to get everything perfect before the big night tomorrow. Any questions? Ideas? Opinions?”
“Yeah, I have an idea.” Slumped on the front steps of the Battlefield Inn, Parker chocked down a mouthful of cough syrup and tried not to speak above a whisper. “Let’s call it off. That would really make it perfect. No more ghost tour.”
“Walk of the Spirits,” Ashley corrected him, irritated. “Walk of the Spirits. And we’re not calling it off. After all this time? All this work?”
“All this suffering?” Roo added. She was perched one step below Parker, and was digging through her pockets for a cigarette. Her face still bore some major bruises from the storm, and a wide gash zigzagged across her forehead, not quite healed. She’d taken great pains to highlight this zigzag with dark, red lipstick.
“You like suffering,” Parker reminded her. “And, excuse me, but you’re not the one with pneumonia.”
"You don’t have pneumonia. You’re just jealous because Gage was in worse shape than you, and he got more attention.”
“Well, it’s almost pneumonia. It’s turning into pneumonia.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Okay, y’all,” Ashley announced. “This is our dress rehearsal. Our last chance to get everything perfect before the big night tomorrow. Any questions? Ideas? Opinions?”
“Yeah, I have an idea.” Slumped on the front steps of the Battlefield Inn, Parker choked down a mouthful of cough syrup and tried not to speak above a whisper. “Let’s call it off. That would really make it perfect. No more ghost tour.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits

“Okay, y’all,” Ashley announced. “This is our dress rehearsal. Our last chance to get everything perfect before the big night tomorrow. Any questions? Ideas? Opinions?”
“Yeah, I have an idea.” Slumped on the front steps of the Battlefield Inn, Parker choked down a mouthful of cough syrup and tried not to speak above a whisper. “Let’s call it off. That would really make it perfect. No more ghost tour.”
“Walk of the Spirits,” Ashley corrected him, irritated. “Walk of the Spirits. And we’re not calling it off. After all this time? All this work?”
“All this suffering?” Roo added. She was perched one step below Parker, and was digging through her pockets for a cigarette. Her face still bore some major bruises from the storm, and a wide gash zigzagged across her forehead, not quite healed. She’d taken great pains to highlight this zigzag with dark, red lipstick.
“You like suffering,” Parker reminded her. “And, excuse me, but you’re not the one with pneumonia.”
"You don’t have pneumonia. You’re just jealous because Gage was in worse shape than you, and he got more attention.”
“Well, it’s almost pneumonia. It’s turning into pneumonia.” Tensing, Parker let out a gigantic sneeze. “Shit, I hate this. I feel like my brain’s ten times its normal size.”
Roo gave him a bland stare. “You know, when people lose a leg or an arm, they think they still feel it, even though it’s not really there.”
“Will you two behave?” Ashley scolded. “And, Parker, where’s that newspaper article your mom was going to give us?”
“Somewhere.” Parker thought a moment, then shrugged. “In my car, I think.”
“Well, will you please go get it? The sooner we start, the sooner we can all go home.”
“She’s right.” Though unable to hold back a laugh, Miranda came loyally to Ashley’s rescue. “Let’s just walk it through, and read the script, and make sure we’ve covered all the basic information. Ashley, what about your costume?”
“I’ve got the final fitting after I leave here.” Ashley’s eyes shone with excitement. “Can you believe Mrs. Wilmington went to all that trouble to make it for me?”
“She didn’t.” Parker scowled. “She got her dressmaker, or designer, or whoever the hell she calls him, to make it for you.”
“Parker, that doesn’t matter--it was still really nice of your mother to do that.”
“You’re a southern belle--how could she resist that?”
Ashley shot Miranda a grateful smile. “That was Miranda’s idea.”
“It made sense,” Miranda explained. “A costume sets the mood. It’s all about southern history and heritage, so our tour guide should be a southern hostess--hoopskirt and all.”
“And I’m the only one who gets to dress up! And I can’t wait to wear it! It’s like cotton candy!”
Roo arched an eyebrow. “Sticky?”
“No! All pink and fluffy and…sweet. I love the way I feel in it.”
“I agree,” Parker said hoarsely. “I love the way you feel in it, too. And I love the way you feel out of it even better.”
Roo stared at him. “Wow. You should write greeting cards.”
― Richie Tankersley Cusick, Walk of the Spirits