Call On Me

by Angela Verdenius

  No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than he tensed. Leave? Well, maybe she would one day. If she met the right man, she’d marry him and might leave, go away, and, well, things would change, wouldn’t they? It was natural.

  He stole another glance at her. Relaxed, her elbow on the doorframe of the panel van and her head propped up lazily in her hand, she projected peace and tranquillity, something he knew full well depended on her mood. Would any other man pick up on it?

  Hell yes, they wouldn’t be able to help but pick up on it, she could be volatile at times. And sweetly vulnerable in her own way. He frowned. But would any other man understand? There was a troubling thought.

  “Ghost?”

  “Huh?” Startled out of his strange, unsettling thoughts, he relaxed his hands on the steering wheel. Weird, he hadn’t even realised he’d been gripping it so tightly.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “Well, you’re kinda scowling.”

  “Kinda scowling?” He tried to laugh it off. “Pshaw!’

  “Not kinda, actually, you were scowling.”

  “Just thinking.”

  When she shifted in her seat to face him more, the faint drift of her perfume stirred through the air to waft under his nose. Panache. Nice. Really nice. He’d never really noticed her perfumes before, except as pretty smells. This perfume seemed to suit her, light, fresh, yet with an undercurrent of something more.

  Interesting. This evening was producing some very interesting thoughts. Intriguing. Puzzling. Maybe the experts had everything wrong and men could get menopausal, that would explain his weird ideas. Ali always swore men got menopausal. He grinned.

  “From scowling to grinning,” she said. “Spill your thoughts, Sinclair.”

  “Not happening.” He shook his head.

  “Oh really? Not even if I tempt you with…“ She fiddled around in the glove box again, emerging with a small, plastic-wrapped cupcake. “This?”

  “You horrible wench! Are you saying if I don’t spill my guts, you won’t give me that cupcake?”

  Unwrapping it, she held it before her mouth warningly. “Spill.”

  “That’s blackmail.”

  She touched the tip of her tongue to the icing.

  “That is grossly unfair.”

  She licked the icing.

  “Geez. Okay. Porn, I was thinking of porn!”

  “That’s disgusting.” She took a big bite of the cupcake.

  “Hey! My cupcake!” She had icing on her lips and when she licked it off with the tip of her tongue, he groaned.

  “You’re a fiend,” he accused, swallowing. That cupcake would taste delicious. He just knew it.

  “Serves you right.” She handed him the remaining half.

  Giving her a glare, he devoured it in one bite. “Evil. Just pure evil.”

  Smiling smugly, she settled back against the seat. “Oh yeah, baby, I can be so evil. You have no idea.”

  “Trust me, I do.”

  She laughed.

  Licking the icing from his fingers, Ghost resumed driving. The quiet between them was once more companionable. He loved ghost hunting with Ali. The road unwound in the dark ahead of them, the van was cosy, soft rock played on the radio, and he was content.

  Two hours later they pulled onto a dirt track that led further into the bush. Having scouted the area a few days ago, Ghost new exactly where he was going. The track led almost right up to Screaming Pond. Once a favoured place for fishing and camping, it had been derelict for a few years. The bushes had reclaimed a lot of the track but it remained useable thanks to men like Old Parker, who still came down here now and again for fishing or doing well, who knew what, exactly? All Ghost cared about was that, supposedly, it was now haunted.

  Haunted was fun.

  Gaze fixed on the dirt track, Ali straightened.

  After going as far as he could take the panel van, Ghost pulled over and switched off the engine.

  Ali peered forward. “I don’t see a pond.”

  “That’s because we’re not there yet, honey. Out you get.” Opening the door, Ghost got out, shutting it behind him and stretching leisurely, breathing in the bushland.

  The scurrying of animals in the underbrush, the sway of the trees in the warm night air, the scent of wattle, the feel of being a small being in a big world, the unknown…the press of Ali against his side.

  Lips twitching in amusement, he glanced down to where her head bobbed level with his shoulder. “So, how’s my ghost hunter?”

  “Fine, fine.”

  So fine, in fact, that she was as close as she could get against him while she looked around.

  Glancing up, she saw his smile and frowned. Straightening, she stepped back and placed her hands on her hips. Yep, totally rocking the tough chick persona. He loved it. Arching one brow at her, Ghost waited.

  “Right,” she said, “so where is this pond?”

  “Screaming Pond?”

  “Yes. Screaming Pond.”

  Giving her hair a ruffle, which sent several loose strands of hair tumbling down her back, he ignored her oath and walked around to the back of the van. Opening the door, he leaned in and retrieved the torch from the box beside the esky. The esky reminded him of other things, just as much fun, and he opened it to investigate the contents by the torch light. Score!

  Pulling out a cold, homemade meat pie, he straightened and took a hearty bite. Oh God, say what you wanted about volatile Ali, but the woman could cook to make the angels sing.

  Coming up beside him, she slung the video bag over one shoulder and reached into the esky to pull out another meat pie. Taking a bite, she peered up at him. “Ready?”

  “Yep.” Placing a couple of snack packs of mixed dried fruit and nuts into the backpack, he dropped in a couple of juice boxes and a bottle of water, along with the wrapped sandwiches. Closing the door, he flicked the torch light around the bushes.

  Bright eyes winked back at them before disappearing. Unfortunately, wildlife tended to be shy, so finding out what it was in the dark was a no-go. Even the moonlight wasn’t going to bring out the wildlife when humans were present.

  “Okay, honey, let’s go ghost hunting.” Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he took another bite of pie. “Ready?”

  “Absolutely.” Her eyes sparkled in the light of the torch.

  They walked down the rutted dirt path side by side. As they left the van behind and the bushes started to close in, Ali shifted subtly closer to Ghost. A little more, a little more. He waited, aware of her movements. Yep, there she moved, a little closer, and wait for it…wait for it… Her hand slipped into his and automatically his fingers curled protectively around hers.

  Not that she was afraid. God above, never would Ali Mackay admit to fear. She loved the ghost watches, scared the crap out of her sometimes, but she loved it nevertheless. She always did them pressed up against his side with her hand gripping his in a hold so tight even the Grim Reaper wouldn’t be able to part them with his scythe.

  He certainly didn’t mind. Ever since their first ghost watch as over-excited teenagers, she’d been hanging onto his hand, refusing to let him move an inch without her. It had amused him at first, but now it was so natural, so much a part of it, and one he had to admit he looked forward to.

  It wasn’t often Ali Mackay turned to a man for protection, or admitted it, so he felt privileged. And gallant. Okay, chivalry ran through his veins, what could he say? His mother had ingrained it into him, it was as natural as breathing. It didn’t mean he couldn’t tease the living daylights out of Ali. “Did you hear that?”

  Immediately she tensed. “What?”

  “Something…dragging?”

  “Really?” Breath held, she glanced around.

  “The ripple of water?”

  Her fingers gripped him tighter.

  “Wait, there it is again.” He angled his head to the side. “I think…yes, I do believe…”

  �
�Yes?” She was straining to hear.

  “It’s a bunyip.”

  She was still for all of three seconds before she released his hand and swivelled to kick him in the side of the leg. “You jerk!”

  “Ow!” Hopping a bit, he laughed.

  Shaking her head, she kept walking. After another hop and a quick rub to the sore spot on his leg, Ghost caught up easily with her.

  “I don’t know why I come with you on these things,” she said.

  “Because you love having the crap scared out of you.”

  “By a real ghost, not a phony like you!”

  “Ohhh, nasty. I’m not a phony.”

  “You write trashy, scary books and go ghost hunting with no real paraphernalia.”

  “Because scientific equipment just kills the mood.” Finishing the last bite of pie, Ghost rubbed his hand on his jeans. “You just have to have faith.”

  “I have faith in ghosts. It’s you I lack it in.”

  Catching her hand, he tugged her into his side, grinning down at her when she angled her head back to level an annoyed frown up at him. “Honey, I promise I’ll be a good boy for the rest of the trip, okay?”

  “Huh.”

  “Since when have I ever lied about that?”

  “Being a good boy? Let me see – oh, I might run out of fingers. We’ll have to stop so I can take off my shoes and socks and start counting on my toes.”

  “And very cute toes they are, too.”

  “Don’t think complimenting my toes will get you off my shit list.”

  “I like your tootsies. Always have done.” Grinning, he bumped his hip against her. “Are you wearing red nail polish?”

  “Good grief, have you developed a foot fetish?”

  “You didn’t know?” Releasing her hand, he hooked his arm around her neck and hugged her into his side, dropping a kiss on top of her hair. “After all this time?”

  She scowled up at him. “Serve you right if I stopped coming out on these excursions with you.”

  “Where would be the fun in that?” Certainly not for him, he rather suspected a lot of the fun would disappear. But they’d had this conversation many times, so he wasn’t worried that she’d carry through on her threat.

  That and the fact that she had slid her hand under his where it rested over the front of her shoulder.

  Again he bumped his hip against her. “Forgiven?”

  “You bloody owe me, Ghost.”

  “Don’t I always?”

  She grunted.

  “Name it, honey. Anything. What can I do to cool off your fury?”

  “You couldn’t afford it, mate.”

  He eyed her with interest. “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you’re going to be mad at me for the rest of this adventure?”

  “Now you do sound like a Boy Scout.”

  “For not wanting you to be mad at me?”

  “For using the word ‘adventure’.”

  “But it is an adventure. You, me, a possible ghost, a creepy story. Did I mention you?”

  A faint smile quirked her lips. “You’re lucky to have me.”

  He nodded. “Abso-freakin’-lutely.”

  “Then I guess I can forgive you. But you’re on notice.”

  “I’ve been on notice a lot. Is this number five?”

  “One hundred and forty eight. Not that I’m counting.”

  “Of course not.”

  They continued along the track, walking up the incline and coming over the top where they drew to a stop. In front of them stood the large pond, the surface still under the moonlight. On the far side a small stream wove its way into the dark, the bushes closing in. The clearing around the pond was small. A plop sounded and a ripple oozed through the pond.

  “Did you see that?” Ali whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you reckon?”

  “My guess? A frog, a fish, or we’re about to discover that the bunyip is more than an Aboriginal legend.”

  The elbow in his side wasn’t unexpected.

  Laughing softly, Ghost took the jabbing elbow and steered her towards the far side of the pond.

  “And we’re going this way, why?” she queried.

  “Because Parker reckons he saw the woman’s spirit on the far side of the pond.”

  “Then don’t you think it makes sense to stay on this side?” Her tone might be reluctant, but the thrill of the unknown was riding Ali, her every step matching his.

  “We might miss seeing her. We need to be up close to get a good look.”

  Even though the moonlight flooded the area with grey light, Ghost still used his torch to light up the ground in case of snakes.

  Skirting around the pond, he led Ali to a small incline before stopping and looking around. “This is it.”

  ~*~

  Standing beside Ghost, Ali studied the surroundings. Bushes circled the pond at a small distance. Dried grass and weeds shifted forward while greener weeds rimmed the pond. The water shone like silver under the moonlight. A slight breeze picked up, the warmth caressing her arms.

  Right now she could almost fancy herself and Ghost as being the only people in the world. The stars shone brilliantly in the night sky, the moon glowed whitely, and the breeze stirred the bushes.

  Another plop and ripple of the pond water had her peering intently over at it.

  Ghost lowered the backpack to the ground before standing up and walking towards the pond.

  After placing the video bag beside the backpack, Ali followed. “We might scare her away.”

  “She’s not due for another twenty minutes,” he replied. “I just want to check the pond.”

  “For what?”

  “Dead bodies floating.”

  “Ugh.” She screwed her nose up. “Trust you.”

  The deepness of his quiet laugh was comforting, as comforting as his form in front of her. Big, muscular, and dressed in his usual uniform of jeans, sneakers and open long-sleeved shirt over t-shirt, his blonde hair pulled back in the customary ponytail, Ghost walked with confidence and no fear. It was his fearlessness that Ali relied on in these situations. To be truthful, if Ghost wasn’t with her, there was no way she’d have been out in the bush watching for restless spirits or creeping through old, abandoned buildings with blood-drenched legends.

  The only person with whom she’d ever felt comfortable doing these crazy, scary things was Ghost. She had total faith in his ability to look after her. She came along for the thrills, the fun, and yes, his company. Plus he had a way of making her such a part of everything, even when she was scared stiff and he was enthralled.

  Like now, when he reached back without looking and deftly snagged her hand, pulling her to his side as he stood near the edge of the pond. He didn’t have to look for her to know where she was, it was like some weird instinct he had…okay, and the fact that she was almost treading on his heels, not wanting to be left behind in the spooky bush.

  “The woman disappeared from her home,” Ghost said quietly.

  Ali perked up. The story!

  “Husband was away on a trip. He rang home that night but there was no answer. So he waited awhile.” Ghost’s voice seemed to blend in with the night. “Rang again. No answer. It was getting late and he knew she should be home. He started to ring everyone they knew, but no one had seen her.”

  Gripping his hand, Ali stared out at the pond. “They found her body?”

  “No. The cops went to the house, found no one. The house was immaculate, nothing touched. Her dinner was still on the table, only cold. Her cup of tea was on the table. The food…” Ghost took a deep, slow breath. “The food was half eaten.”

  “So she just got up and walked away?” Ali asked. “Why?”

  “No one knows.” Holding up one big hand, he spread his fingers wide and peered through them at the pond as though sectioning it off.

  “Illicit love affair,” Ali suggested.

  “Nothing incriminating w
as ever found. No texts, no emails, no letters, no unknown phone numbers. She simply…vanished.”

  “Well, we don’t know that she vanished,” Ali argued, shivering a little as weeds rustled nearby.

  Looking down at her, Ghost angled his head. “We don’t know. No one knows. No one knows what happened to the woman.”

  “So how did Parker know she was here?”

  Never one to ignore a good storytelling, Ghost continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “The cops searched the town.”

  “Not much to search.” Ali laughed a little nervously. “Small place.”

  He ignored her. “They never found her car-”

  “Maybe she took a bike?”

  Leisurely, Ghost pulled her in front of him, nestling her back against his hard, warm body as he placed one hand over her mouth, his other hand splayed out over her curving belly. Okay, she got the message. Holding up one finger, she circled it in the air in a ‘continue’ motion.

  Lowering his head, Ghost spoke softly in her ear, his breath stirring the tendrils that danced loose from the messy bun. “No one heard anything, no one saw anything, no one knew anything.”

  She was dying to comment to that, but since he wouldn’t take his hand away from her mouth all she could do was sigh.

  His voice dropped, becoming almost a whisper. “She was all but forgotten until one night when Parker came down here to do some night fishing. Night like tonight, all moonlight, all quiet, the only sounds that of the breeze and the nightlife, even the wildlife was quiet.”

  Yeah, come to think of it, there was no sound of anything. No snakes slithering in the weeds, no dingo howling, no owl hooting, no night birds. Even the breeze seemed to have stilled. Freaky. Spooky. Seeking reassurance, Ali pressed back against Ghost.

  Bowing over her, he sheltered her in the warmth and strength of his arms and body.

  “Parker went fishing. Sitting out here all alone, line in the water, waiting for the bite of fish.” Ghost’s cheek moved against hers, his five o’clock shadow scratching lightly along her skin as he looked across the pond, his voice growing hushed. “And then he saw her.”