Together Again: Spirit Travel Novel - Book #4 (Romance & Humor - The Vicarage Bench Series) (13 page)

Barry’s parents were the complete opposite. Both busy workaholics, they remained unaware of the misery poor Barry suffered.

As the two youngsters grew older, Dani witnessed many incidents where the other students’ pranks cut Barry deeply, goading him past endurance and, lately, poking at his masculinity. It had torn at her heart to see how much lower this past year had brought him—how unhappy he appeared.

Then, three months ago, she’d come upon two of the bigger, more popular blokes at the school giving him a thrashing. Seems he’d messed up a homework project they’d forced on him.

“Here, what are you doing?” She’d broken into the fray and demanded attention. “Let go of him.”

They stopped hitting him, but using their young muscular bodies they trapped him, crushing him between them. They continued to poke at him with their elbows, proof she had no power over anything they wished to do.

“The little moron let us down. We asked him for one small favour, and he screwed it up.”

“Rubbish! Stop that. Stop hitting him; he doesn’t have to be doing your work. Do it yourself.”

“You stay outta this, Dani. It ain’t none of your bloody business.” The taller of the two got a mean look on his face and stepped towards her. Partially hidden by long strands of greasy hair, obvious cruelty shone from his beady eyes.

“Well, I’m making it my business.” Dani had always disliked Nigel Brown, the lad who continued to advance towards her slowly, menacingly. He stopped when she blocked his way. Then, forced to look up, she felt small, intimidated, and angry for feeling such things.

“What’s it matter to you? The poof’s a bleedin’ chump. What do you care what we do to him?”

She smelt the bad breath of a cigarette smoker. “Of course I care. He’s my boyfriend. Let him go, and leave him be.”

Nigel pushed even closer to her, rubbing his chest against her breasts as he said, “He’s not fit to be your boyfriend. He’s scum. You want a real man, come with me. I’ll take good care of ya.” Dark stringy waves framed a pretty-boy face, but the mean expression spoilt what could have been attractive features.

Fed up, Dani pushed him away. “Barry’s worth ten of you,” she said. From the corner of her eye she watched the reaction of her words wash over Barry’s homely face. He looked dumbfounded but took the opportunity to wrench himself out of the other boy’s grasp. Then he moved aside and waited, afraid to step up but not running off.

“Barry is more of a man than you’ll ever be, you big bully. He’s smart and strong, and one day he’ll be someone to be reckoned with. You wait and see. On the other hand, you will most likely be a kept man. Kept by the local authorities behind bars in a prison somewhere.”

Bullying rage flashed. Warning signals started in her stomach, butterflies battling and acid churning, but she didn’t look away. Her eyes never wavered, never flinched, and never stopped glaring her disgust.

Long seconds passed. Finally, with a middle finger showing his disdain and a sneering grin plastered over his red face, Nigel swung around and lumbered in the opposite direction. The copycat slowly followed, his shrug a clear indication he wasn’t sure what had just gone down, but neither was he willing to question his pal’s authority or his decision to walk away.

Barry, sheepish, approached warily, caution as obvious as a neon sign flashing. “What’d you do that for? They’ll be after me even more now, calling me a liar and such.”

“Tell them it isn’t a lie. I’ll confirm it. We can be seen together and—and hold hands. Maybe go to the films and to the café for lunch.”

Dani reached up and pushed his thick blonde hair behind his ears. With a little more grooming, he’d be quite handsome. His big brown eyes were encircled by long curling eyelashes. If he’d look a person straight on, as he did with Dani, they’d be able to see his kind heart shining through.

“They’ll know, Dani. Look at me! Why would any girl want to be seen with the likes of me? God’s honest truth! It’s not going to make sense.”

“It’s better than letting them thrash you. Come on, Barry. We’ll go on a date Friday night, and then it won’t be a lie, will it? You’ll get yourself done up, and I’ll dress to kill, and we’ll make a smashing couple.”

They’d gone on that date and then another and another. Slowly, Barry stopped slinking around and began to walk upright, straight-backed, a tall strong body revealed. But one thing kept coming up between them.

Repeatedly, he’d question her spending so much time with him. “It’s a pity relationship. You really have no use for me—you just feel sorry for me. It’s true, ain’t it?”

“Give over, Barry. We’ve been friends for years, since we were little tots. I like you. I really do. We have lots of fun.”

“It’s not enough. Dani, I love you. And I want more than holding hands, and pecks goodnight. Please, Dani, let me. I need you to.”

The truth behind Barry’s words never registered with him, but it did with Dani. She sensed his need to feel vindicated as a desirable, normal male. He couldn’t accept himself as worthy without her acceptance of him as a sexual partner, and bighearted Dani couldn’t withstand his desperation, couldn’t add to his rejection list. Until she proved his value by loving him all the way, he’d continue to doubt, to query—to deny. Time after time she’d seen him regress into the black funk where he’d question everything about himself.

And so, without thought of any consequences, she’d wrapped her young, strong arms around him and held on as he became a man and she became a mum.

Chapter Nineteen

Nurse Joye stopped in the doorway of the dimly lit sickroom and peeked in, listening. Mrs. Dorn muttered all the while she gently wiped the pale face of the still girl. She wore an expression of devotion as her gnarled hands wrung the water from the soft cloth.

“Poor wee lass! Yer flamin’ mum would drive a saint to drink, she would. I don’t know as how you’ve lived with her all these years without clobbering her with a ruddy great stick. She’s rung up four times today, and it’s only the supper hour. I don’t know how long the doctor and I can hold her off—that I don’t. You have to come back to us, dearie, for the doctor’s sake and my sanity.”

Reddish gold curls, springing every which way, were tenderly brushed back from the girl’s forehead, but to no avail. They sprang back into place, loops pre-programmed to twist and coil and frustrate anyone trying to control them.

“Flubbin’ her off is wearing me down. I’ve run out of stories to keep her satisfied. I’m thinkin’ to pretend she’s got the wrong number if she calls one more time this evening.”

A deep breath in preparation for a loud sigh inflated the old housekeeper’s body, swelling her by at least one size. She released it with such moaning that the giggle escaping from snoopy Grace Joye broke into the heartfelt noise and brought Mrs. Dorn’s head swinging around. She caught the nurse in the act of trying to hold back her hilarity by covering the offending mouth.

Mrs. Dorn rose and swelled to her great height of five feet. Her eyes narrowed, her hands gripped her ample hips, and a smile twitched at her lips.

“So, miss, you think it’s funny that the windbag and her hoity-toity manners are driving me demented?”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Dorn. I know it’s naughty of me to laugh. Please don’t be angry. You’ve been wonderful about taking on the phone duty. Doctor Andrews told me just yesterday that he didn’t know what we would do without you.”

“That’s what keeps me going along with this nonsense.” She turned to look at the patient. “What will he do if the lass doesn’t come back to us?”

“Don’t even mention such a possibility. He’s been glued to his reports. Working day and night on very little sleep. He’s tried to examine everything he can get his hands on pertaining to this phenomenon. He’s so pale and exhausted, he’ll need caring for himself if this Saturday doesn’t bring Dani home.”

“I’ve read the case notes, you know. Couldn’t help meself.”

“I suppose he wouldn’t have left them where you could get them if he didn’t trust you implicitly.”

“I wouldn’t be in his shoes for any amount of money in the world. Iffen he has to tell his sister that her pregnant daughter’s body lies in a coma while her spirit is holidaying in someone else’s, there’ll be jolly hell to pay. Add to everything else, he has no idea
where
the lass is at the moment, or
whose
body she’s occupying. I’m thinking we’ll surely be visiting him in his own hospital bed—while he’s in a body cast, more’n likely.”

The smile slowly faded from the nurse’s features. “Put like that, Mrs. Dorn, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes, either!”

Chapter Twenty

Troy had risen early, enjoying the brisk chilliness of the dawn. He ate a full English breakfast and didn’t know what rated higher, the appearance of the food or the delicious smells of ham and eggs wafting from his plate. All the while he devoured the meal, he chatted up Bunty to learn about the latest gossip on the fire.

Noting her early morning effusiveness, he decided to expand their topics of conversation to include the person foremost on his mind, Ellie Ward.

“Bunty, I wonder if you could help me? I’ve been trying to meet up with Bury’s star author, Ellie Ward. I’d like to arrange an interview, but it seems impossible to get through to her personally. I’ve tried numerous times to call her phone, but either no one’s home or a woman, an extremely unpleasant woman, answers and puts me off. Do you know how a fellow could get to meet her?”

“Ellie’s a bit of a recluse, Troy. She very seldom agrees to any form of publicity. And when she’s here in Bury it’s usually because she’s working on her latest manuscript. While she’s writing, she’s not available to anyone, sometimes for weeks on end. Except of course to her family.”

“Does she live here primarily? I’m asking because not long ago, in Chicago, she saved the life of a young girl. I’d very much like to discuss that incident with her, get her point of view on what happened. You know, have her share her feelings with the readers.”

“She’s a heroine? I’m not at all surprised. Actually, she lives in Chicago part of the year. It’s only during the holidays, when her daughter visits her grandparents, that Ellie spends so much of her time here in Bury.” The smile, which lit up Bunty’s face while talking about the famous author, clicked with Troy.

“Do you know her? Could you arrange for us to meet?”

“I know her. We go to the same church. For some unknown reason I’ve never understood, she’s treated me as a personal friend, but I’d never presume on that friendship.”

Bunty’s brightly coloured lips closed tight, a sure signal that she would say no more on this specific topic. Familiar with the reactions of humans to nosiness and uncomfortable questions, Troy backed off. With a jaunty smile, he thanked her for the meal.

“You’re away, then? No more lollygagging with the likes of me? Looks as if you’ve a special destination.”

Troy winked at her presumptuousness and fed her curiosity.

“A fine howdyado. A bloke can’t pull anything over on you today, Miss Smarty Pants.” Armed with a pocketful of sharpened pencils and a notebook under his arm, he gently pinched her nose and left.

On the far side of the street, he passed a tobacco shop he hadn’t noticed before and glanced in the window. On display sat a large black-and-white photograph of Ellie Ward, the very woman he’d been trying to find. Piles of her latest book,
Come Find Me
—an apt title if he ever saw one—flanked the picture. The setup presented an artistic exhibit, but his eyes were drawn to her image.

Her soft expression dazzled him.

Her rioting curls made him smile.

But her eyes mesmerized, seeming to burn into his soul as though they connected directly with him.

And then the unforeseen happened. A woman stepped from the shop’s doorway, pivoted, and made her way across to the other side of the street. It took Troy a moment to realize who she was. As soon as it kicked in, he started after her.

“Here we go again, pursuing poor Ellie.”
Dani’s tone resounded with cheeky sarcasm. All the while he’d been with Bunty silence had reigned. Now, when he’d prefer to be on his own, she’d returned to badger.

“Come on, Dani. The woman’s famous, a true heroine. She’s the reason I’m even here. This could be the proverbial scoop of the year. After I get her to open up and share her story, I’ll send it off to the Sun-Times. They’ll offer me a job, maybe even make me their ace reporter. Besides, people need to know what made her act the way she did. It’s important.”

“That’s rubbish. You’d persecute this poor woman because she’s brave?”

“I’m not persecuting her, as you so indelicately put it.”

“What do you call sneaking around, following her everywhere, asking questions you’ve no business to? Aren’t you planning on revealing her whereabouts to the whole world? You know all she wants is her privacy.”

“Okay! Just maybe you’re somewhat right, but the world needs heroes, and I’m a reporter. It’s my job to get the story. People have the right to know what made her step in and fight. Stop humming in my own head. It’s beginning to bug me.”

“Good! What did this superwoman do to earn such a lofty title as heroine?”

“First of all, she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and second, she didn’t follow the basic, more intelligent rules of today.”

“Which are?”

“Don’t get involved. And never when there’s danger.”

“You’re one to talk.”
Her teasing snort encouraged him to continue.

“Yeah, well, I’m an idiot. Trust me. It’s best to ignore trouble around you, stay away from dangerous situations and let others worry about themselves. Ignoring these proven principles, Ellie Ward single-handedly stopped a bank holdup.”

“And that’s bad how?”

“The thieves were armed killers and known to the police from four other similar jobs they’d recently pulled in the city. Bank customers died at each of the other robberies, and the two suspects, both brutal murderers and both with long records, had been taken very seriously.”

“What did Ellie do?”
The intensity of emotion ringing in her voice surprised Troy, but he replied with the details.