Ghostly Liaison (14 page)

Rob searched the yard. By the side of the house his ax proudly stood embedded in the pile of wood. After wrenching the potential weapon free, he tiptoed over to the pool, making sure he wouldn’t inadvertently step on the creature.

His arms trembled as he gripped the wooden handle and held the blade above his shoulder. Thank goodness she wasn’t witnessing what a wuss he’d become. That would certainly deduct some points in his favor. “Okay, buddy. Show yourself and be prepared to meet your death.”

The weeds reached above his ankles. He hadn’t been back in this part of the yard since Charlie’s death. With the amount of rain that had fallen this spring, he’d never gotten around to clearing the area like he should. Then again, his last tenants should have taken care of the yard as part of the lease agreement.

A pile of branches and weeds lay off to the side and the dirt had been turned over beside the pool. Is that what she’d been doing back here, clearing the weeds? Then why hadn’t she answered him? Or had she been hiding? He straightened and lowered the ax. There wasn’t any snake. She’d said that to avoid him. But why? Was she still upset about the other night? Dammit. He should have called sooner.

Something landed on his shoes. A dark ropelike item with a yellow stripe down its back lay across his foot.

He yelled and kicked out. The creature went flying and bounced off the fence. With his heart ready to pound out of his chest, he charged the snake, roaring like a mad man on a mission.

“Don’t kill it!”

He stopped at Bridget’s command. “What? Why not? I can see it.”

She wore her standard outfit—long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans—holding a green trash bag. Had he imagined seeing skin before or had she changed?

“Put him in here,” she said.

Like hell. That required touching. But what kind of wimp would he look like if he didn’t? Shit. He turned toward the creature and held out the ax to scoop up the varmint.

“What are you doing? You can’t pick him up like that.”

“If you’re such an expert, be my guest.”

She pulled on her gloves and shoved him out of the way. “Where is he?”

He pointed with the ax.

She bent over and examined the creature, then picked up the snake near the head and held it out. “He’s harmless.”

He scuttled away from the hanging creature. Ew, ew, ew. The only harmless snakes were dead ones. “Then why did you scream?”

The thing coiled and uncoiled, tangling up in the bag as she placed the bugger inside. “I overreacted. I wasn’t expecting a snake in the yard. Why did you? You knew it was there.”

“Well, maybe I didn’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie about a snake?”

“Why would you hide from me?”

“I wasn’t… I didn’t…” She clamped her mouth shut and hung her head. “I don’t know. I guess I wasn’t ready to face you after the other night.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have left the way I did. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was saying.”

She might have continued talking, but the open bag creeped him out. “Would you close that?” The damn biter was liable to jump or slither out.

She tied the bag closed. “Do you get many snakes?”

“God, I hope not.”

“You’re not a fan, I take it?”

Shit! Had he said that out loud? “Let’s just say I’ll leave them alone if they do the same to me.”

“I’ll agree with that statement.” She walked over, swinging the stupid bag. “So, what brings you here? You working on a new project?”

“No. Still the same one. I came to paint.” With the way his hands still shook, he doubted he’d do a good job. Whereas, she seemed cool as could be, holding the bag as if it only contained trash, not some slithering monster.

“Oh, I have the paint sample inside.” She placed the bag beside the stack of wood. The plastic moved.

“You’re just going to leave that there?”

“Why? Does it bother you?”

Hell, yes.
“No, of course not. I don’t want Barnaby to get into it.”

She glanced at the dog, now walking in circles. “I think it’ll be okay for the next couple of minutes.” She opened the door and stopped. “You coming or staying?”

Staying? No way. But he needed to put the ax back and couldn’t stop staring at the bag. She took the tool out of his hand and hurled it into the wood.
Thunk.
Tempted to feel her biceps, he rushed inside instead. She closed the door behind them. Damn reptile. Nearly gave him a heart attack.

She waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay? Do you need to lie down or something?”

“No. Why would you say that?”

“Because you haven’t heard a word I said. Come on.” She grabbed his arm and led him to the living room. “Sit and I’ll get you something cold to drink. Do you like iced tea?”

“Yeah, that would be great.” He sat on the couch and placed his head in his hands. His body trembled all over. What a wimp.

The couch moved. And like a wuss, he jumped. He knew it was only Bridget, but some kind of wire inside his brain had fried. She placed a glass on the table.

“How old were you when a snake first scared you?”

So much for looking heroic. He laughed. “Fourteen.”

“Camping?”

“Yeah, with the folks. I complained about wanting my own tent that year. I didn’t want to share one with Charlie, so they bought a tent big enough for three and I used one of the old ones. Sometime during the day, the little biter must have crawled inside my sleeping bag. I didn’t notice it right away. Not until it crawled up my pajama leg. My parents probably thought I was being attacked by a bear or something significant.”

Memories about the people he had loved—the family he would never see again—crushed his chest. God, he missed them. They’d been taken away much too early. He picked up the glass and chugged the iced tea, the cold trailing down to his stomach—his empty stomach. He needed to change the subject.

“Do you want to get some lunch?” he asked.

“If you’re hungry, I can make you a sandwich.”

“You have food?”

“Yes, I have
food
.” She smiled. “Do you like bologna?”

“And cheese?”

“Sure.”

He followed her into the kitchen and sat at the dinette table. When was the last time someone had fixed him a meal? It had to be his mother. No woman had ever offered to cook him dinner. Their interests had consisted of being seen with him, not that he’d minded at the time.

After finishing the preparations, she brought over two plates containing sandwiches—cut in half, even—and potato chips. She refilled his glass and brought over one for herself.

“This is nice. Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

They sat in silence as they ate. The food tasted great. Sometimes the simplest sandwich could be the best. He didn’t mind the company, either.

And it felt natural being with her.

She finished her sandwich and washed it down with some tea. “I want to explain about the other night.”

Oh, man. He had thought he could believe, but now he wasn’t sure. “About what?”

“My crack about seeing dead people. You were moving so fast, I wasn’t sure what to say to get you to stop.”

“How about ‘stop’?”

The ends of her mouth curled into a weak smile. “I guess I should have tried that first.”

“So… You don’t see ghosts?”

She furrowed her forehead. “You want any more chips? I’ve got plenty.”

“I’m good. Answer my question. Please.”

She stood. “How about some more tea?”

He wouldn’t let her get off that easy. He grabbed her arm. “Bridget—”

The doorbell rang and her face brightened. He released her. This discussion was far from over, though.

* * * *

The young man handed Bridget a brochure regarding the upcoming spiritual retreat being held at the church around the corner. She’d had her fill of spirits, one in particular, but smiled and thanked the man.

“Who was it?” Rob asked.

“No one important.” She desperately needed to avoid the subject of ghosts because she would not lie to Rob. So why not just admit it? It would probably send him away for good. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

She tossed the brochure on the counter. The paint sample floated toward the floor and she caught it, giving her the excuse to change the subject. “Before I forget, here’s the color I picked out.”

Rob took the card and looked at it. “It’s neither blue nor green.”

“It’s not?” She leaned over to look, but he placed it against his chest.

“Don’t you know what color you picked out?”

Actually, she didn’t. Her mind had been elsewhere when Charlie picked it out. “Maybe I gave you the wrong card.”

He looked at her as if she’d sprouted wings, then turned the card around.

The color on the card bore a strong resemblance to the color in the bathroom. Couldn’t Charlie pick something different? Bridget had no one to blame but herself. “Oh yes. That’s right.”

“It looks like the same color that’s in there now.”

“Then maybe you don’t have to paint the whole room. Just that one wall.”

He finished the last of his chips. “Do you want to go with me to get the paint?”

“Thanks, but I’m expecting my parents and I told them I’d be home.”

“Okay. Then I guess I’ll go get the paint. I shouldn’t be long.” He went to the back and called for Barnaby.

“You can leave him here if you want. I don’t mind.”

Barnaby rushed inside and jumped up on Bridget. He panted with his tongue lolling about. Charlie must have given him a good workout.

“Thanks. I don’t think he likes me leaving him in the truck anyway.” He patted the dog’s head. “Thanks for lunch. It really hit the spot.”

He stood close and stared at her like he wanted…something. A kiss, maybe? And while that would be nice, she could never stop at just a kiss. She’d proven it the other night. If it weren’t for Charlie, who knew how far she would have gone. She couldn’t let it happen again. Could she?

She backed away, giving him space to the front door. Keeping a safe distance, she followed him and saw him off. That had been close. She hadn’t been forced to lie about seeing ghosts and she hadn’t ripped off his clothes and taken him on the floor.

As she turned toward the house, her father pulled into the driveway.

Bridget stood in the garage and examined the map from the Internet. According to the news article she’d found, Nick’s accident had occurred seven point three miles away. It would be quite a bike ride, but she was determined to try if it helped Charlie on her way. And it had nothing to do with the fact that the ghost could bug fleas off a dog.

She would miss Charlie, but it was for the best. Rob didn’t need to know his sister was toddling around the old home instead of floating somewhere in heaven, and Bridget should have never said anything. The sooner she sent Charlie on her way, the better, because she wouldn’t lie to Rob and he most likely wouldn’t let the ghost issue drop.

“I can’t believe I’ll see him soon.”

“Charlie, about that. Maybe you shouldn’t come.” Bridget still doubted she’d see Nick’s ghost and Charlie’s hopes rode too high.

“I want to come. Why can’t I come? You can’t stop me.” Charlie crossed her arms.

Bridget folded the directions and slipped it in her back pocket. “You’re acting like a spoiled teenager again. How the heck am I supposed to get you there? As soon as someone sees us, you’ll disappear.”

“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not there. I’ll be floating by your side the whole way.”

“Exactly. Your brother already thinks I’m nuts. I don’t need the whole neighborhood suspecting it, too. Besides, who’s going to stay with Barnaby, huh?” Bridget hoped her appeal worked and zipped up her backpack. Two bottles of water should be enough. If not, she’d stop and buy more. She pushed a button on the wall. As the garage door loudly rumbled upward, light entered the area. She rubbed the top of the dog’s head before shutting him inside the house.

“Barnaby’s been on his own numerous times. I wouldn’t worry about him. And why would the neighborhood think you’re crazy if they can’t see me?”

Bridget checked the tire on her bike. Nice and straight. “Because I’m sure I’d end up talking to you whether I see you or not.” She looked up and Charlie was gone. “Which I’m already doing.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Bridget jumped and spun around. “Mr. Murdock! I didn’t hear you enter. How are you doing?”

“It’s Henry. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“I’m sorry, Henry. Blame my mother.”

He laughed. “No. I think your mother did a wonderful job raising you. Except, do you normally talk to yourself?”

“Sometimes it helps clear my head to say things out loud.” Ouch. Could she come up with anything lamer?

“I hear you. Must be a habit of living alone, huh? So, you going out bike riding? Aren’t you going to be hot in that outfit?”

Yes, she would be. Long sleeves and jeans in eighty-degree weather with the added exertion of bike riding and she’d be lucky she didn’t fall over with heatstroke. Maybe two bottles wouldn’t be enough. “I don’t want to get sunburned. I’ll be fine.”

“You might want to be careful. Newscaster predicted rain.”

“Rain? When?” The sky was a brilliant blue with a few fluffy clouds.

“I don’t know. One of those pop-up situations. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just keep your eye out. You won’t be gone long, will you?”

God, she hoped not. “Nah. I’m not going far.”

“Do you need me to give you a lift? I don’t mind.”

“Thanks a lot, Henry, but I’ll be fine. I think I need the ride to help clear my head. Plus I could use the exercise. You understand, don’t you?”

Her heart twisted at the sad look on his face, but having him drive her to a construction site, if it still was one, would only bring on more questions. Questions she wasn’t willing or even able to answer. He gave her his phone number in case she needed a lift. If she met with another unfortunate incident, or got caught in the rain, she’d have no problem calling Henry over her mother or even Rob, because those two would definitely give her a lecture.

She pulled up the backpack, but inadvertently stuck her right arm in the left strap, tangling them. Of all the stupid things… She lowered her arms forcefully and the pack landed with a
thud.