CnC 1 Ghost of a Chance

by Yasmine Galenorn

  “The baby?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, Em… I just don’t know.”

  I jammed my hands in my pockets. If only she’d stayed at home and talked to James like she was supposed to, but no, she had to get cold feet and come over so late. I shook off that thought. It wasn’t her fault—it was mine. If only I’d put that goddamn bottle away like I should have, she wouldn’t be in this predicament now. She wouldn’t be hurt. I shook my head and looked up at Andrew. “Harlow’s hurt. How soon before Miranda or Kip take it on the chin because of me? Every person I love has been put into danger because of this mess. I’ve got to get rid of this ghost.” The wind sprang up, and a jet of cold air nearly froze my ass off. I pulled my coat tighter.

  “Emerald, listen to me. Harlow didn’t just accidentally slide off the cliff.”

  “You mean somebody broadsided her?”

  “No. I mean she was startled into driving off that cliff. Somebody wanted her dead.”

  “Someone deliberately ran her off the road?” I stared at him in horror.

  He glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Harlow was awake when I got down there. She passed out a minute later, but I got a chance to talk to her. She told me that she saw a woman standing on the road, the woman raised her hands and then something dark, I don’t know what, leaped in front of Harlow’s car and when she swerved to miss it, the car wheels wouldn’t hold on the ice and she went tumbling into the ravine.”

  My jaw dropped and I started to speak, but the excited clatter of voices stopped me. They were bringing Harl over the edge now. I rushed over to check on her. She was bruised, and her lip was cut. They had splinted her right leg and her left wrist.

  One of the paramedics told us that she’d been drifting in and out of consciousness the past few minutes. Now she opened her eyes and they widened when she saw me hovering over her. “Em… Em… James? The baby? Is my baby okay?”

  “James is on his way to the hospital. You just hush, be quiet and rest. You need to rest.” I took her other hand in mine and held it as they carried her over to the ambulance unit.

  She tugged me to come closer. I leaned down before they slid her into the back and put my ear near her lips. She whispered, throaty and hoarse. “Susan. Susan was on the road. She tried to warn me but then something appeared. Something huge and dark and I was so scared. I tried to swerve, tried to get away. I couldn’t stop the car… Susan…” Her eyes fluttered, and she drifted back into unconsciousness.

  As they loaded her into the rescue unit, they told us where to meet them at the hospital. I could barely hear what they were saying. Numb beyond the point of exhaustion, I was sick with the realization that if anything happened to Harlow or the baby, it would be my fault. I had no reserves left and had to ask Andrew for help in getting back in the Cherokee. He drove.

  We were halfway back to town when I remembered. Harlow had grabbed the charm—the one from the witch’s bottle. Could that have been the catalyst for the attack on her? One thing I was sure of: “We’ve got a rogue spirit on our hands. Next time, somebody could die.” I thought of Miranda, out on the roof, and of Harlow and how she would have died if we hadn’t found her. I had been so casual, so sure we could handle this without any trouble. I had forgotten Nanna’s strictest rule: Never underestimate the powers you work with, and never underestimate the powers you encounter. I had no choice. It was time for war, and I was on the front lines, leading the troops.

  Chapter Eighteen

  We arrived at the hospital shortly before the medics. I called James while en route and told him that Harlow was alive and going to be okay. By the time Andrew and I got there, he was waiting by the emergency room entrance, his face a mask of ashen gray. I thought that he could probably use a wheelchair and some oxygen himself. The minute he saw us, he raced over, begging for information.

  “All they could tell me is that they’re bringing her in and that she seems to be in stable condition.” His gaze darted from Andrew to me, then back to Andrew. “Is she okay? What’s going on?” Andrew put his arm around James’s shoulders and led him into the waiting room, where we could see the moment they brought Harlow in for treatment.

  I took a deep breath, wanting to prepare him. There was no easy way to do this. “James, they think she’s got a broken leg and maybe a broken wrist. She’s pretty bruised up. There’s something else.”

  He looked at me, worry fining his eyes. “What?”

  ”Harl is pregnant, and we don’t know how the baby is doing. She was going to tell you tonight but was too afraid—”

  “Pregnant? I’m going to be a father?” A look of wonder lit up his face.

  “Yeah, she’ll tell you all about it when she can. But James, we don’t know how the accident affected the baby. We’ll have to wait and see what the doctor says.” It occurred to me that I hadn’t even had a chance to congratulate him on becoming a father, and here we were, waiting to see if it was going to happen at all now. Damn it.

  Andrew held up his wallet. “Going to get us all some coffee and something to eat.” He disappeared out the door after giving James a quick pat on the back. I sat next to James, holding onto his hand.

  “Why didn’t she tell me?” He sounded so confused that I wanted to take him in my arms and rock him like a child. “I don’t understand. I love her so much and I don’t think I could stand it if something happened to her. She has no idea just how much I need her. She’s so caught up in worrying that she won’t be good enough, and all along, I’m the one who hasn’t been good enough for her.”

  I wondered what it would be like to have someone love me the way James loved Harlow. Even in the beginning, Roy hadn’t felt that way about me. I pressed a tissue into James’s hand and leaned back. “Listen to me, babe. She needs you as much as you need her, and she adores you. That’s why she was so afraid to tell you about the baby. All sorts of issues have come up—fear about her anorexia, about what will happen while she’s pregnant, about how she’s afraid you’ll miss out on the trip to Africa since she’s pregnant. But she’ll get through this, and everything will be fine. Accidents happen and people recover.” I wasn’t about to tell him what caused the wreck. Let him think it was just bad timing, bad luck, for now.

  He wiped his eyes. “Thanks. You’re a good friend. No wonder Harl thinks the world of you.”

  I shivered. How would he feel when he found out what really happened? I saw the flash of metal as the doors burst open. “Here she is—come on, but don’t get in their way.”

  James jumped up. The medics did their best to keep him out of the way without making him feel useless. He pelted them with questions, and they patiently answered as best as they could. Harlow was still drifting in and out of consciousness. A couple of doctors and nurses whisked her off into an ER. James was turned away at the door, and the nurse brought him back to the waiting room. He sat down, looking confused but a little less panicked.

  “They won’t let me go back with her.”

  “That’s so you won’t get in their way while they’re working. They need the room to fix her up, hon. Just be patient. They’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as they find out.” I wished that I felt as calm as I sounded. For James’s sake, I couldn’t break down like I wanted to. He needed the strength of friends right now and, though I might have let Harl down, I sure as hell wasn’t going to do the same to him. I let out a shaky breath as Andrew returned with a tray of coffee and doughnuts. The coffee smelled good, and the sugar would help keep us going. When the doctor finally came out to talk to us, James leaped up. Andrew and I followed.

  “How is she?” James leaned close, fear and hope waging war in his eyes.

  The doctor consulted his chart. “Harlow’s condition is stable, and she’ll be fine. Let’s see, she has a broken tibia in her right leg; it’s broken in two places. One cracked rib and hairline fractures in two others. She sprained her left wrist, has a mild concussion, and a lot of bruises. Also, she lost one
of her front teeth when her face smacked into the steering wheel.”

  “And the baby?”

  “She hasn’t miscarried,” the doctor reassured James. “Everything seems fine, though we’ll want to keep her here for a few days to monitor her condition. Your wife is in exceptional health, if a little underweight. Her athletic condition helped her survive this accident. She’s lucky to be alive.”

  James stuttered out “Thank you” over and over again. I shuddered and turned, burying my face in Andrew’s chest while James asked the doctor a few more questions.

  “She’s going to be okay.” I straightened my shoulders and pushed a loose strand of hair out of my face. James opened his arms for a hug, and I held on for dear life. “She’s okay… she’s okay.” As I stepped back, Andrew offered me his handkerchief and I mopped away my tears but they wouldn’t stop coming; the exhaustion was feeding them.

  The doctor looked at his watch. “She’s awake.” He smiled at James. “Why don’t we get you back there to see her? I’ll have a nurse escort you to her room.” He glanced at Andrew and me. “I’m sorry, I don’t want her overstimulated. You two will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  James decided to stay at the hospital overnight, so Andrew and I left our phone numbers as emergency contacts and headed back to my house. I stared dumbly into space while Andrew drove. What the hell were we going to do next? Exhaustion, fear, and guilt tangled my thoughts, and I kept coming back to the edge of the ravine, watching the headlights, wondering if Harlow was dead.

  By the time we pulled into my driveway and stumbled into the house, the sky had clouded over. I locked the door. We dragged ourselves upstairs and settled into bed without talking. Andrew snuggled against my back, draping one arm over my shoulder as I stared at the wall. I couldn’t sleep; images of the night—so alien with the sirens and crash and ice—raced through my mind, and when his arm dropped away and he started to snore, I quietly slipped out from beneath the quilt to peek through my bedroom window. A light dusting of snow was falling. The sky was illuminated from the faint hint of silver that snow clouds always bring with them. Comforted, at least for the moment, that we were safe, Harlow was safe, and the children were safe, I returned to bed and finally managed to drop off to sleep. I didn’t dream at all that night.

  * * * *

  The smell of bacon woke me up. I wandered down to the kitchen, letting my nose lead me. Andrew was busy, frying up the golden strips of pork. A fluffy three-cheese omelette and whole-grain toast were in the warming oven. My stomach rumbled, and I felt like I had a bad hangover—at least the headache part of it—as I glanced at the clock. Ten-thirty. About four hours of sleep. Murray was supposed to bring the kids back at about three, but I couldn’t let that happen. After last night, I knew for sure that Mr. B & U was out for blood.

  Andrew whistled as he ground the beans and tapped them into the mesh holder of the espresso machine. He leaned down and kissed me before bouncing back over to the counter to get our juice. “Good morning. How’s my favorite witch?”

  I groaned. “Are you sure your name isn’t Twinkle Toes? That’s what I’m going to call you, you know… Twink, for short. You are far too bright and bubbly after last night. What are you on? Some kind of uppers?”

  “Oh, sure.” He laughed. “Puppy-Uppers. Then I take Doggy-Downers when I reach the point where everybody wants to kill me.” He slid into the chair opposite me and waited as I took a bite of the eggs. The omelette melted in my mouth, oozing with cheese and a hint, just a hint, of cayenne.

  ”Mmm… can I hire you as my personal cook? I think the kids might want to eat at home more if we ate like this every day.” I bit into the bacon. Crisp, sizzling, but not so hard it hurt the teeth.

  Andrew dug into his breakfast. “So, are you okay this morning?”

  Was I okay? As the fog began to lift from my brain, I examined my feelings. The edge was gone from my panic but I could still feel it there, under the surface. “No, I am not okay. I feel responsible for the fact that my best friend almost lost her life last night. Now I get to wait for how long it will take both Harl and James to figure it out and dump me, and they’ll have every right. When I realized that she was lying at the bottom of that ravine, I felt just like I did when I realized that I’d ignored my ex’s behavior for too long. His actions were hurting my kids, and I didn’t want to see it because I didn’t want to face what it meant. Murray teases me about being selfish, and she’s right.”

  “It wasn’t your fault—”

  “Then whose fault was it? I’m the one who got her involved in this. I’m not going to shirk my responsibility in this.”

  Andrew shook his head. “No. She chose to get involved, she chose to come over last night. You had nothing to do with hurting her.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. How could he fail to see the connection? “Listen, I screw up… sometimes pretty bad, but I never avoid admitting my mistakes. Are you blaming Harl for this? She didn’t drive off that road on purpose.”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “No, I am not blaming Harlow for the accident, but you shouldn’t blame yourself, either. You didn’t tell the ghost to go push her off the edge. In fact, you told Harlow she had to back off. You tried to protect her. Why should you feel guilty for something somebody else did?”

  I stared at my half-eaten omelette. Something about his refusal to accept that I was at least partially at fault for what had happened bothered me. Did he blow off responsibility when things went wrong because of something he did, too? He must have sensed my hesitation, because he reached over and tapped my chin.

  “Emerald, I just don’t want you being too hard on yourself. Blame is useless right now—our main focus should be to fix what’s gone wrong. Guilt only eats up energy.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, even though part of me still felt that something about his reasoning was off, but I was too tired to fight. After a minute, I relaxed and slumped back in my chair. “I guess we’re all a little tense.”

  He gave a half laugh and lifted his coffee mug. “I’ll drink to that.”

  As I picked up my fork again, the phone rang. I grabbed the receiver.

  “Hey, Em…” Harlow’s voice was shaky, but to me it had never sounded so sweet. They were keeping her for observation. She was scared, though. “Listen, I’m going to make this quick while James is off getting something to eat. So far, he thinks I just had an accident. I want to leave it that way. He doesn’t believe in ghosts, he doesn’t want to think about things like that. But I saw them out there on the road, and I tell you, whatever that thing is, it’s dangerous… to you, to Susan… to anybody who tries to cross it. Please be careful, Em. If it tried to kill me, what’s it planning on doing to you?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” My voice broke as the tears rose back up from where they were resting. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  Harlow snorted. “You weren’t the one who pushed me off the road.” Her voice grew soft and she sounded phlegmy, as if she’d been crying. “But now that James knows I’m pregnant, he’s so happy. He loves you, Em, but he might not take it too well if he knows what we’ve been up to. I won’t tell him, I promise. You guys are good friends and I want you to stay that way.”

  My eyes misted over. “You really are an angel. Harl, you’ve already been a big help. Thank you for everything, but we were right—you can’t get involved.” I reassured her that we would keep her up-to-date on what was going on, and she reassured me that if she heard anything out of the ordinary, she’d let me know. I replaced the receiver. All I could think about was that she wasn’t angry at me and she wasn’t going to tell James. I’d been handed a last-minute pardon by the governor himself. I turned to Andrew.

  “We’re on our own, bub. Harlow’s out of the picture. Thank heaven, she and the baby are going to be okay. She’s not telling James about the ghost, so don’t you mention it, either.” I played with the rest of my eggs, no longer hungry. “We’
ve got a real mess on our hands. I don’t think I can do anything about Walter until I take care of Mr. B & U. I certainly can’t bring my kids back to this house until I clear him out.”

  Andrew stretched. “After we take care of the dishes, we could take a drive over to Walter’s. Try to talk to him.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “I just told you that I can’t deal with him until I get rid of this spirit that’s terrorizing my family and friends. And what would we talk to him about? I don’t think he was too thrilled to hear that Harl and I had been down in Seattle hunting up his estranged daughter.”

  “I don’t know,” Andrew said. He sounded petulant. “I’m just trying to come up with something that might help. First you say that Susan thinks he killed her. Now we find out that he has no motive, no reason to get rid of her. Maybe we can’t prove him guilty, but can we prove him innocent? Maybe Susan is all messed up because she’s dead!”

  I stared at him. “Maybe so, but what if she’s telling the truth? What if Walter is more clever than either of us give him credit for? He can’t be a stupid man, not with the career he’s built for himself. I know you feel guilty about her death, but there’s nothing you can do now—”

  He slammed his fist down on the table. I jumped as his eyes flashed, and my stomach twisted in knots. “Why is it all right for you to get upset over Harlow’s accident and accept blame for it, but I can’t feel guilty over Susan’s death? What’s the difference?”

  I hated to admit it, but what he said made sense. However, his outburst was unacceptable. “I understand what you’re saying, Andrew. I really do. But don’t ever raise your fist in my house again. I took that kind of anger from Roy, but I won’t take it from anybody else. I refuse to be afraid in my own home.”

  He looked away and swallowed, pulling his hand back onto his knee. “I shouldn’t have done that; I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

  I relented a little. There were too many other things to worry over without tackling yet another problem. “Yeah, I know. Things are a real mess, aren’t they?”