Mrs. B. interrupts Blake and my own train of thought when he asks her why we’re here… with her.
“You just answered your own question, Blake. She’s sitting right here,” she says dryly.
Blake looks at me and I shrug before he looks back to Mrs. Blake.
“I got a story of my own to tell,” she says knowingly, “but you need to get my boy’s story out first,” she adds with a wink.
Turning to Blake, she says in a low tone. “Sheriff Sheldon? He was a young man once too, ya know,” she says cryptically, patting Blake’s knee.
“I don’t...” Blake starts to say.
“Oh, he called me too,” the old woman sighs, looking nostalgic, even pumping her thin hair with one hand at a distant memory.
“You’ll hear it sooner than later anyway. That baseball team you played for? They’ve got wind of your ‘survival’ story and moved to freeze your assets quicker than you did with the media injunction… some breach of contract baloney.”
Blake groans, but doesn’t look too surprised. I feel a stab of guilt run across my insides.
All this is because of me, because of my stupid haunted house story.
“Don’t take it so hard, sweetie,” she says to me, patting my knee. “They have a building full of lawyers,” and then looking over to Blake adds, “And more than one judge who’s a ball fan that never liked you.”
Making a dramatic pause I can see the old lady is actually really enjoying this.
“Sheldon was upset that I never let him in on you staying at the house. He got miffed and went to the feds too, apparently, you roughed him up, Blake?” she asks, wagging a finger at Blake and tutting to herself.
“You’ll have a federal assault charge. A breach of contract drama that’ll stretch out for years, the IRS will wanna chat too, no doubt plus you’ll still have an angry mob of fans who’ll always be left wondering why you bailed on them. Why you never co-operated with the-”
Blake raises his own voice, silencing her.
“Alright! That’s enough. I get it!” he growls, balling his hands into fists and hitting one of his knees with a force that frightens me.
Instead of being shocked, or even angry… the old woman purrs, grinning to herself as her eyes widen and shine brighter.
“That’s my boy!” she exclaims, patting his knee. Unraveling one of his fists and taking his giant hand into her own.
“I came to collect you both, to give you a head start. Let this young lady get her story straight before she pitches it to the media, for a fair price,” she adds firmly, flaring her nostrils as she raises a finger to me.
“What really happened Blake?” I ask him, “The night of that crash… Why’d you do it? Did you really switch seats to make it looked like you were the one driving? How could anyone who knew you believe that? You’re a teetotaler,” I tell him.
“That’s the story you have to tell,” Mrs. B. says, ignoring Blake’s protests and leaning forward to confide in me.
“He’s always stuck up for other people even if it means he gets burned.”
“I can’t… I won’t rat out on a teammate, it’s pretty simple stuff, Lois. Don’t ask me to incriminate someone whose career depends on my own version of what happened.”
“Then at least tell the world about how you felt you couldn’t pitch anymore, after the car crash, after the plane crash,” I plead with him.
“I don’t think the team wants you back, Blake,” Mrs. Barnes says coldly, and I shiver with anger, wondering how someone so old, so caring for Blake could be so heartless in half of what she says to him.
“She’s right,” Blake admits, holding my gaze.
“I could sing against my teammate, who’s won them a championship, by the way, or I could stay hidden. But I don’t think I can do that anymore.”
“What do you want?” I ask him, and he takes my hand in his.
“I want this, Lois. I want us.”
I expect Mrs. Barnes to make a distasteful sound, or to scoff, but she’s watching me like a hawk, her eyes suddenly clear with a brilliance I can only tell myself is her own memories. Her own wishes from her past she never fulfilled.
Mrs. Barnes taps her gloved finger on my laptop, urging me to open it up.
“Tell me more about your story, Lois. Any takers so far?”
I look to Blake, who shrugs, and I open it, loading my emails and expecting to pick up where I left off the night before.
Halloween.
Maybe it was a trick or treat deal?
A hundred thousand dollars for an independent story, it’s a little out there.
But Blake did tell me to delegate, so I did.
I pitched the idea to my professor from college and when I see the hundreds of emails waiting, I gasp.
“Did you…?” I ask, looking up at Mrs. B.
She frowns.
“Honey, I can hardly see the ends of my hands, let alone type anything these days. I only picked you two up off the train and asked Sheldon to hold off the feds, but he can’t do that.”
“What is it?” Blake asks me, sounding worried, mixed with excitement.
“You did it, Lois didn’t you.” Is all Mrs. Barnes will say before she looks out the window again, and I can tell she’s thinking of a long-forgotten time.
A simpler time, when the world was railways and roads, not information superhighways.
“One of the offers is from a major news agency,” I stammer. “They’re offering a million dollars for an exclusive,” I gasp again. “A million dollars for a single exclusive.”
“It’s a start,” chimes Mrs. B.
Blake flushes with pride and grips my hand in his.
“It’s what you always wanted, Lois. I say go for it!”
“One of you is gonna have to earn a living,” Mrs. B. says dryly, winking at Blake and then suddenly laughing out loud.
A warm, sweet laugh, full of affection… a laugh I will come to know and love.
Scanning through the rest of my mail, I can see a dozen or more from my old boss, Malibu Barbie Barbara, begging me to let her have in on the story, even offering me a share in the newspaper… giving me the newspaper if I’ll just let her in on the story, even just a bit.
Looking over at my man, Blake, and my new friend, Mrs. Barnes…?
Ummm, I don’t think so, Barbara.
I really don’t think so.
Epilogue
Three Months Later
Blake
The best story is one that unfolds. That’s what Lois says she learned in college.
It gains traction and people follow it for months, maybe years.
Lois is down with this, and her college friends don’t let her down either.
With my blessing, she milks my story for everything its worth, and I don’t even have to give one single live interview, that was the only condition of her being my agent.
I’m far too busy loving her.
She’s smart enough (with a fair amount of Mrs. B’s advice I might add), to charge plenty of money for each installment to any news agency who has the cash.
In just a few weeks, she makes my ex-ball career look like chump change.
That’s right… my ex-ball career.
After some to-ing and fro-ing with the lawyers I sign off on what I promise I won’t talk about to the media and I get a little something in the mail, my own income for once… and all my stuff back.
A check with as many zeros as one of Lois’.
My thanks and keep it quiet retirement from professional sports, for milking my disappearance, wink-wink.
I’m so proud of Lois though, so glad she can work from home as well.
Our home.
I want to buy the old Barnes place, but Mrs. B isn’t having any of it.
“You’ll get the deed to that house over my dead body!” she screeches down the phone to me one afternoon.
I’m taken aback, but not too surprised, she’s always played hardball.
“Un
less…” she adds, trailing off with an air of mischief in her voice.
“Unless what, Mrs. B?” I ask her, trying not to smile.
“Unless you put a ring on that girl’s chubby, pregnant finger so I can give it to you both as a wedding present,” she says, a matter of fact. Like she’s talking to a small child.
I feel my hackles go up. I don’t like anyone, not even Mrs. B. referring to Lois as chubby.
Pregnant?
I almost drop the phone, then hear the old woman’s cackling laugh as she takes delight in my own ignorance.
“I knew it that day in the limo. One look at you two and I could see you were hooked, but I know a pregnant girl when I see one… that glow… that look…” she says firmly, before reminding me again that, “No ring… no house!”
I can’t get off the phone quick enough, feeling like either the world’s biggest fool or Mrs. Barnes is just having one of her epic old lady jokes.
But something in me knows she’s right.
I join the dots.
The tiredness… Lois’ late arrivals to the breakfast table and then not wanting to eat…
Her constant reference to her belly.
I love her belly though. I love all of her, so much.
Hanging up, I listen keenly, the familiar sound of the wind moaning through the old house.
Mrs. Barnes hasn’t given it to us, but she insisted we both stay here, clean it up, and tidy the yard.
Something I’ve been doing full time while Lois does what she loves best when I’m not helping her with one of her afternoon naps.
Ah Jesus!
“Lois!” I call out, practically yelling, “Lois! Where are you?”
I can hear her talking on the phone, then watch as her face appears over the edge of the railing of the top floor as I look up.
She shrugs, telling whoever it is she’ll call them back and hangs up.
I breath out sharply, kicking myself I didn’t see any of this beforehand, especially after that night on the train.
“Are you… are you pregnant?” I ask her, not meaning it to sound accusing, but that’s just how it comes out.
As if I don’t know who the daddy is.
She looks puzzled for a moment and then makes a weird, croaking sound. She drops her phone and reels back from the railing.
In two seconds, I’m up the three flights of stairs, holding her in my arms, stroking the hair back from her face.
“I can’t be…” she groans, a sheen of nervous sweat on her brow… my hand rubbing her belly gently.
Me, of course, I’m smiling like a schoolboy.
“How could you not be?” I ask her, thinking of the thousand times I’ve made love to her since we first met not so long ago.
Plus… Mrs. B. said so… it must be true.
“Ah, Jesus,” she cries, sinking to the floor, making me worry and think of calling a doctor.
“What is it, Lois? Do I need to call an ambulance?” I ask, feeling suddenly powerless.
“No!” she shouts, annoyed. “I’ve just gone and burst the button on my last pair of pants that actually fit me!” she cries out, tears forming in her eyes.
I feel my own eyes streaming, but they’re tears of happiness.
Lois is alright, she’s just in a bit of shock, like me.
Not realizing how busy we’ve both been, not realizing that she’s carrying our child.
The one we both know she conceived that night on the train.
The one Mrs. B. was so keen to observe growing inside her just a few hours later.
“Marry me,” I tell her.
I’m not asking, I’m telling.
“I love you so much, Lois. I can’t live a second without having you as my wife. We’re going to have our family, in our beautiful home.”
“Our home,” she reminds me, and I kiss her, feeling more of a thrill than the first time I touched her sweet lips.
My Lois.
Mine.
Extended Epilogue
Halloween
Lois
It’s Halloween night… and as we hoped wouldn’t happen, a terrible storm is brewing on the hill over the old house.
“I hope it doesn’t rain, not yet,” I tell Blake, hopefully.
“I’ve yet to see a Halloween in town where it didn’t,” he says ominously, a deep roll of thunder from outside following his words.
“And what about Barbara?” he asks, grinning.
“She’s coming, but she has to stay outside,” I order him, and he gives a little salute.
Jack starts to fidget, then finally lets out a loud wail as another crash of thunder shakes the whole house.
“Did you stoke the boiler, honey?” I ask, not wanting our guests to feel a chill.
Except those who have to stay outside for the festivities.
“Yes dear,” he moans, doing his best Frankenstein impression.
The lights flicker and the candles in all the Jack-o-lanterns flutter as a rush of cold air springs from nowhere.
“Perfect!” Blake announces, adjusting his plastic nose on his face and lifting it only long enough to kiss me on the mouth.
“Watch the blood darling,” I chide him, mindful of my vampire make-up as I adjust myself to start feeding baby Jack.
Jack’s a little young for dress-up but Blake agreed he could have a baby-sized costume.
Nothing too scary, just his glow in the dark onesie with lots of jack-o-lantern pumpkins on it. His namesake.
The whole house is aglow with handmade candles from Blake’s basement, and every ghoulish and traditional country style Halloween decoration we can think of.
It’s the least we can do, open up the haunted house on the hill for a Halloween party that the town will never forget.
It was my idea, I wanted to feature it in a magazine article… but Blake said no.
Yes to the party, no to the story.
“We have enough media attention, baby. I just wanna celebrate something with the townsfolk, with you,” he said, so I agreed.
Christmas might be a different matter but tonight is all about Halloween.
There’s pumpkin-spiced everything, cornbread, and more barbecued meat and home cooked pot dinners brought along than we ever thought there’d be room for… but the whole town did turn out too.
Even old Mrs. Barnes.
She’s upstairs, looking down on things from her balcony, sipping something that finally brings a smile to her face.
“It’s what I always wanted!” she gushes later on, once the crowd has thinned and the night is deemed a total success.
“I always wanted to see the whole town come through this old place, really enjoy it, but most of all, I wanted to see Blake happy for once.”
I blush when I sense what she’s going to say.
“I’m old school, Lois, don’t mind me. I just had to see a boy married if he was gonna have a family.”
“Oh, I agree,” I tell her, taking her hand and feeling it flex in mine for the first time ever.
“You make me so proud, Lois… and Blake… he loves you like there’s nothing else on earth,” she tells me, a silver glint in her eye.
“I know he does. We all love him so much.”
Blake pokes his head around the door, making us both jump just as some fireworks start to go off in our yard.
“What are you two gossiping about?” he asks, bouncing baby Jack in a sling, suddenly looking concerned when he sees we’re both teary-eyed.
“What is it, Lois..? What’s happened?” he asks, rushing to my side, cradling Baby Jack as he kneels down between me and Mrs. B.
“Nothing, Blake,” she says to him soothingly. “Nothing at all. I was just telling Lois what a fine job she’s done making an honest man out for you, about how happy I am to see so much life in this old house for a change.”
I smile at Blake, then at our darling son Jack. I sit back, sighing with my hand absently tracing my middle as I watch the fireworks.
“So muc
h life in such an old house…” I muse aloud, almost absently.
Tracing the line of Blake’s jaw with one hand, I feel the beating heart of our son with the other, almost wishing I had a third hand to touch the new life I know is growing inside me.
“So much life,” Mrs. Barnes says knowingly, reaching over to stroke my belly with a wink.
Giving me one of her knowing smiles as I watch the brilliant light of the fireworks reflected in Blake’s eyes, in the eyes of our son, and in the eyes of the old woman who we both owe so much to for bringing us together.
Halloween.
A new anniversary for all of us.
Full of life and always full of promise and love.
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A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
Book 1: Baby Lust
Book 2: Veteran
Book 3: Built
Book 4: Bambino
Book 5: Rescued
Book 6: Leader
Book 7: Professor
Book 8: Burned
Book 9: Worldly
Book 10: Pistol
Book 11: Policed
Book 12: Driven
Book 13: Lucky 13
Book 14: Lumberjacked
Book 15: Protector
Book 16: Carpenter
Book 17: Italian Stallion
Book 18: Gardener
Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin
Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter
Book 21: Cocky CFO
Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th
Book 23: Mechanic
Book 24: SEAL’s Secret
Book 25: Police, Pooch, and Smooch
Book 26: Fireman’s Fake Fiancée
Book 27: Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina
Book 28: Bitcoin Billionaire’s Babysitter
Book 29: Veterans Day Daddy
Book 30: Cowboy’s Christmas Carol
Book 31: Police Officer’s Princess
Haunted By Her Curves: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 206) Page 8