Graveyard Shifts: A Pat Wyatt Novel (9 page)

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound too thrilled. “That’s great.”

My brows pulled together. “What’s wrong?” I asked, noticing that he didn’t look well. His face was paler than normal. “Are you okay?” I wanted to know. He was beginning to worry me.

“Sam doesn’t want me to see you anymore,” he said, shrugging like it was nothing.

My jaw clenched and unclenched. “It’s a free country. And last time I checked, Samuel isn’t God. You can do whatever you want. Within reason.”

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “You don’t know Sam.”

“I’m beginning to catch on.”

“I didn’t expect it would be so hard,” he said, reaching over the table to take my hand. Our fingers were wrapped together, and in that moment, I lost myself.

“What would be so hard?” I asked, loving the way his eyes sparkled in the dim light.

“Not seein’ you,” he replied, pressing his lips to my fingertips. I swear if this hadn’t been a public place there’s no telling what I might’ve done. “When he called me last night panickin’,” he continued, “all I could think was that you were dead and that I wouldn’t ever see those hazel eyes, those pouty lips, or that slightly crooked smile ever again. It hurt so bad I thought I might’ve died. But then he said you were there, and I was…”

“Relieved?” I offered.

He blinked at me. “Yeah.”

Then I realized these feelings I was having weren’t normal friendship feelings. They were so much more than that. And it scared me. “Mike,” I whispered. “I think we’re getting ourselves into a lot of trouble.”

He nodded, frowning ever so slightly. “I know we are.”

“But I don’t care,” I amended, and his eyes were a bit brighter. “I like you.” It felt surprisingly good to admit it. “And I say to heck with the consequences.”

“You already know how I feel.” Even though he’d never said it aloud, I knew. Then he leaned forward, kissing me on the cheek, and when he pulled away, his lips grazed mine. It took all I had not to lean forward and kiss him.

“Did you feel that?” he asked, his face just inches away.

I gulped, breathing slowly and deliberately. “Feel what?” I answered his question with a question.

He smiled at me. “The world stopped turnin’; the air stopped flowin’, and the moon stopped orbitin’, all because I’m with you.”

“That was…” I paused, feeling the edges of my mouth tilt up into a broad smile. “The cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard,” I laughed at him. “You are such a girl.”

He nodded in agreement. “True. But that doesn’t make it any less heartfelt.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, and we leaned away from each other. “For the sentiment.”

“You’re welcome, bébé,” he said, kissing my fingers again.

My heart jumped into overdrive when he said that. “Bébé?” I asked, biting my lower lip.

“It means baby,” he shrugged. “Would you prefer I call you chér?”

I shook my head. “No, I like it. It means I’m in your heart.”

“It means you
are
my heart,” he said, letting go of my fingers, so he could pull me forward and place my hand on his chest. “Do you feel that?” he asked in a whisper. “It’s going Pat, Pat, Pat, Pat.”

It was the corniest joke I’d ever heard, but I laughed so hard my sides hurt. “Okay,” I breathed, “now
that,
was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.” He started laughing with me, all deep and wonderful.

Samuel was right about one thing. My life was not boring.

At least not anymore.

.

chapter

EIGHT

When I got home, Samuel was waiting for me.

I’d spent a good part of the day and night with Mike. Mostly we just talked about our childhoods—you know, what we liked and disliked. I learned that he had dogs growing up, and he learned that I had cats. But even with these small differences, we had a ton in common.

We both loved rock n’ roll but didn’t care for the death metal or hardcore rap. Both of us grew up in a neighborhood where everyone knew our names. And even though he didn’t have a sister, he did have a cousin. Jeff (the cousin) had lived with him and his parents for a while, until one day they got into a fight over Mike’s girlfriend (at the time). Jeff wound up stealing her away from him in order to dump her only two weeks later. That ended their good-natured cousin relationship, and Jeff moved out after the fall out. Mike told me almost everything about himself, unlike Samuel, who told me a grand total of nothing.

“Where have you been?” Samuel asked, as I walked in the house. He stood in the foyer with his arms folded, tapping his foot impatiently. For a moment I thought he looked a little like me when I get angry, so I laughed at him. But when I did, he seemed to get more annoyed.

There was no need for him to be annoyed with me. He was acting ridiculous. And when I got myself together, I said, “You don’t need to know.”

“You are my wife!” he yelled, his face lighting up with anger.

“But not your slave,” I bit back, knowing that it would hit him below the belt. “You don’t need to know.” When I repeated it, I said it louder, just in case he was deaf.

He looked at me, eyes blazing for a minute, and then he sighed. “I do not wish to fight with you.” That made one of us. “Besides, I have a surprise for you.”

I do not like surprises Sam, I Am. Sorry for the Doctor Seuss moment. “What kind of surprise?”

“We are throwing a party tomorrow night,” he said, “in order to celebrate our union.” That sounded dirty. “I have invited everyone I know and everyone who matters to you.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, and that’s when he dropped the bomb on me.

He shrugged, and I felt like hitting him in the chest. “Your father and sister.” I prayed I had heard him wrong. “I had them take the early flight out here, so they could be here by tomorrow night.”

“What did you say?” I asked, wanting to hear that again. You know, just in case my mind was playing tricks on me.

“I said we are having a party—” he began, as if I was stupid.

“No, no,” I interrupted, mouth tight. “That thing about you inviting my father and sister.”

“I called your father and—”

That was it. The last straw. “You did
what
?” I screamed at the top of my lungs. He couldn’t have been serious about this. “What did he say?”

He looked confused, but he had no right to be. If anyone should be confused, it was me. Then he smirked, and said, “He told me that he was excited to meet his new son-in-law.”

I felt in my gut that he was lying. My father would never say that. The man was not a big fan of me to begin with. So to say that he was excited about anything that I was involved in, especially meeting a man I had married on a whim, was a complete lie.

I backed away as he walked toward me. I didn’t want him too close. “I don’t believe you,” I said after a moment’s silence.

“That is what he said. I swear to it,” he said, giving me his scout’s honor. As if he could have ever been something so pure.

“What in the world did you tell him?” I asked, knowing that he must have lied.

He sighed, frustrated. “I told him it was love at first sight and that I could not stand being without you, so I married you on the spot.”

“And what did he say to that?” This was something I had to hear.

“He approved,” he said with a shrug. He moved closer to me again, but I walked into the study. I couldn’t stand being near him. “What is wrong, my love?”

I threw my hands up at him. I was furious. “I don’t trust you, Sam.”

“Samuel,” he corrected, and I felt the cold grip me again. “You do not see me calling you Patty, do you?”

I turned away from him. I was just so angry. “You let Mike call you Sam,” I hissed, trying to make it sound as though I was calm.

The air behind me became heavy and uncomfortable, and I knew that he was close. “That is because I like the way you say my name,” he said, sounding concerned (like he was capable of such a thing). “Are you all right, my love?”

How could I get him to understand that I didn’t trust him? That something inside him scared me and excited me at the same time? And how could I tell him his lawyer was a better man than he could ever dream to be?

“Should I be worried about you?” he asked, placing his hands on my shoulders. The cold gripped me so tightly that I thought I might black out again, but when I shook my head, he kissed my hair.

“What are you hiding from me, Samuel?” I whispered to myself, swearing it was inaudible.

He hugged me to him so tight that I couldn’t breathe. “I am not hiding
anything
from you. Why would I hide something from you?”

My heart skipped a frightened beat. Something was very wrong.

That night I had a dream. I never have dreams that I remember in the morning, and sometimes I just see darkness all night, but this I remembered. And the things I saw frightened me more than you could imagine.

I was running from something. I couldn’t see what, but even though I couldn’t see it, I knew.

I stopped, looking over my shoulder in order to see Samuel dressed in his usual black. His bronze skin glowed in the moonlight, while his blue eyes were as cold as the ground beneath my feet. As he walked toward me, he smiled. But instead of that hurting grimace, it was perfectly white and toothy. Well, it was good to know he had teeth. “Do not be afraid, my love,” he said as he touched my face.

I leaned up and touched his. “I’m not.” And for the first time since I’d met him, I wasn’t.

“That is wonderful,” he said, leaning down to kiss me. His hands roamed up and down my back. And as he moved them up, he lifted my nightshirt, and his cold hands caressed my bare flesh.

I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. A second later, he unhooked his lips from mine, tilting me back. I closed my eyes, feeling my hair fall away from my neck. Then he moved one cold hand up, skimming it along my collarbone.

“Do you want me?” he asked, but his voice sounded like he was holding some sort of emotion back.

I wanted to say no, but when I finally looked into his eyes, I just couldn’t. “Yes,” my voice echoed in the darkness as he kissed my jaw, running his lips down and stopping right above my cross.

“Take it off,” he demanded in a hiss. If I was in my right mind, I would’ve told him to go shove it, but all I did was nod. I yanked the chain from my neck, tossing it into the grass. It shimmered for a moment before disappearing completely. That’s when I noticed where we were. And the shivers came over me in a violent wave.

We were in a graveyard. The white tombstones gleamed menacingly in contrast to the dark green earth. There was a mound of freshly dug earth to my right, while the hollowed soil was rock solid under my feet.

Usually I enjoy graveyards. They give me a sense that everything has to come full circle in order for life to move on. Strange coming from a person who’s afraid of large rooms because she was left with the dead. But it’s just something about the smell of the graveyard, like fresh-cut grass and musty earth, that makes me so calm. I think Shakespeare had it right when he said, “We are food for the worms.” Don’t get me wrong. I think life is too short to worry about what might happen after. But there is always something peaceful and fulfilling about seeing that we are all equal in one thing.

Except for in my dream. I was scared out of my wits, and even looking around I knew that this gave a new meaning to the term “graveyard shift.”

Closing my eyes, I kept telling myself to wake up. But when I opened them, we were still together amongst the dead. “What are we doing here?” I asked, trying to be strong, but my voice betrayed me. It shook worse than a person knee-deep in freezing snow.

“I do not know what you are doing,” he breathed against my neck, “but I am eating.”

Huh?
“Eating?”

He pulled his head back, and his smile widened. I thought he was going to kiss me, but then I saw that his two canines had become fangs.

I started to scream, but he silenced me by placing his hand over my mouth. “Shh,” he whispered in my ear, his fangs grazing my flesh. “You wouldn’t want to wake the dead, would you?” I whimpered against his hand, and he laughed. “One thing is for sure.” His voice was like ice. “I am going to enjoy this.”

I could feel his mouth open against my neck, and then his fangs were in. At first the pain was only minute. But when my blood hit the surface, it burned all the way down my neck and into my chest. I’d never felt such pain in my life.

Finally he let go of my mouth, and I screamed.

I bolted upright in bed, screaming my head off, and the sweat made my nightshirt stick to my skin. I lifted my matted, sweaty hair off my neck as I felt my heart pound against my ribcage.

The new Friday morning light burned my eyes as it came in through the windows, and I thanked God that Samuel was nowhere in sight. As I blinked hard, making my eyes adjust, the bedroom door slammed open, and I screamed again.

Charlie ran in with a baseball bat. “Pat, what’s wrong?” he asked, ready to swing if necessary.

I took a deep breath. “Everything,” I managed to say, and he sat down on the bed, placing the bat down on the floor so he could hug me. “I had a horrifyingly real nightmare.” I shook violently. “Goodness me, it was dreadful.” Better yet, I should say dead-full. That’s when I became hysterical, and started to hyperventilate.

“There now,” Charlie soothed as he petted my hair and rocked me. “It’s all right. I’m here. Shh, it’s all over now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

I pulled back, looking into his face, and he blinked at me. “What did you say?”

“I said
it
can’t hurt you anymore.” I noticed that he put an emphasis on “it.” Obviously he’d slipped up and was saving his skin.

I wiped my sweaty face on my collar. “No,” I said, “you said
he
can’t hurt you. Who’s he?”

“You’re obviously distressed, Pat,” he said, stroking my cheek. “I said it, not he.”

I nodded. I didn’t feel like arguing with him. “You’re right. I must’ve heard you wrong.”

Then Charlie handed me his handkerchief, and I wiped my face properly. “What was the dream about?” The way he asked made me think that he already knew the answer.

“I…” I paused, thinking of the things that happened. “I don’t remember.” Sure, it was a lie. But I had a feeling that if I told the truth, Samuel would find out and would most likely put me in a mental hospital.

I handed Charlie back his hankie, and he pocketed it. “Oh, come on,” he said with a smile. “You can trust me.”

I didn’t doubt that, but something inside me told me not to. “It’s not that, Charlie.” I moved to the edge of the bed, crisscrossing my legs. “I really just don’t want to talk about it.”

“All right,” he sighed, shrugging disappointedly. “Why don’t you go back to sleep? It’s way too early to be up.”

It was a good idea, but there was one problem. “I can’t.” That was the bad thing about being me. Once I was up, I was up. No exceptions. At least not to my knowledge.

He shrugged again. “Oh, well. How about you get dressed, I’ll get breakfast, and then you can go shopping for tonight’s festivities?”

The party was tonight. “Holy cats, I completely forgot.”

“Everyone will be there,” he said, nudging my arm in excitement. “Including your friend Tina.”

“He invited Tina?” Something about him saying that bothered me. I mean, Samuel didn’t mention it, so you can understand my confusion.

He grimaced. “Not exactly.” He paused, taking a breath. “I did. I thought with your father and sister arriving, you needed all the moral support you could get.”

I wrapped my arms around him, giving him the biggest bear hug. “Oh, Charlie. You’re the best.” That was far beyond the call of duty.

He rubbed my arms. “Just doing my job. Now,” he pushed me back, “do as I say.”

“Yes, sir.” I saluted him. One good thing about my father being a retired marine was that he’d taught me how to salute and obey a direct order. I marched out of the room, still a little wobbly on my feet, but looking forward to shopping. What woman doesn’t love to shop, especially with her best friend?

After I was finished, it was around seven thirty. And I walked down the steps wearing the oversized marines t-shirt that my father had given to me, torn jeans, my pair of Birkenstocks, and to top this sloppy look off, my hair was up in a messy ponytail.

I was down on the last step, when someone knocked on the door. I rolled my eyes. “Come in. It’s always open.” I was expecting it to be Tina, but instead I got Mike.

“Hey, you,” I said, skipping over to him and giving him a one-armed hug.

He hugged me back. “Hey to you too. You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” There really was no need to tell him about the nightmare. “What are you doing here?”

He pulled me into the study, shutting the doors behind us. “I don’t have much time,” he whispered, kissing my hand, “but I had to see you before I went to work.”

I smiled. This man was too sweet for words. “How did you know I’d be up?” As soon as I asked a cold breeze caressed my skin, and I shivered.

He shrugged. “I didn’t. I was just gonna take my chances.”

“Aren’t you coming tonight?” I asked, fixing his torn collar. This man was in desperate need of a good woman. And for a moment, I wanted to be that woman. That is, until the cold came again.

Mike looked confused. “Tonight?”

“The party,” I supplied, but he still looked peculiar. “Everyone’ll be there,” I backtracked. “Including my sister and father.” All because my lowlife, dirty ratfink of a husband decided that it would be a great way to get back at me for something I didn’t understand. I really didn’t like him right now.