“Anything else I missed while I was out?”
“As a matter of fact…” Chris told him about Ron’s little adventure with Marsha’s wallet.
He chuckled. “Never a dull moment in this house.”
“Nope. But don’t you think it’s a little weird that she’s never mentioned having a niece?”
“Not really. Especially not if she died a long time ago. Besides, you know Marsha. She’s aggressively happy. A tragic loss like that doesn’t really fit the picture.”
“See, that’s what’s always bugged me about her. I mean, I think I’m a fairly optimistic person, but nobody is that positive all the time. It feels like a big act, like she’s hiding something. I mean, it’s not like I’m glad this thing is happening to her, but it’s been kind of refreshing to see another side of her.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Noticing Chris’s frown, he asked, “but that’s not all that bothers you, is it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I wonder how much of the real Marsha my dad’s been allowed to see. I hope he’s not in for any surprises, you know?”
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. You constantly surprise me. But only in the best way.” Carrying a bundle of raw veggies to the sink, he stopped on the way to plant a kiss on her cheek.
“Yeah, but we’re still getting to know each other. It’s not like we’re engaged.”
“No, I guess not.”
Her frown deepened into confusion as he started peeling and rinsing the vegetables. “What are you doing?”
“I thought I’d whip up a roast for lunch.”
“But we just had breakfast.”
“It’ll take some time to prep and cook.”
“See, that’s where your definition of ‘whipping something up’ differs drastically from mine.”
“Let me guess. Yours involves something like stirring the powdered cheese packet and milk into the macaroni?”
Chris shook her head. “That still qualifies as cooking in my book. Now they make the kind that you can pop in the microwave. No stirring required. That is what I call ‘whipping something up.’”
“Once again, I stand corrected.” He handed her a freshly rinsed carrot. “Here. Get to chopping.”
“Okay, but only because you asked so nicely.” She went to retrieve a knife and cutting board before adding, “And it doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes.”
“That makes two of us.”
Smiling to herself, Chris began chopping her carrot inefficiently as Derek continued processing the rest of his haul. After a moment, he joined her at the cutting board, adding to her pile of carrots while he worked on the potatoes. They worked quietly, falling into an easy rhythm, as if they’d done this sort of thing dozens of times.
After a while, Derek said, “This is nice.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“I don’t know about you, but I could get used to this.”
“Me too. I mean, I don’t know about the cooking part, but… I like this.”
They fell silent again, but Chris felt a ping on her radar. The silence no longer felt easy and comfortable. It felt more like Derek’s wheels were spinning, like he was leading up to something.
“So I’ve been thinking,” he said, confirming her suspicions.
When he stopped there, she felt obliged to prod him. “About what?”
“About us.” Boom. Hammer dropped.
Chris stopped chopping. “Is this really a conversation we should have while we’re both holding knives?”
Derek laughed. “It’s nothing like that. It’s… I don’t know. All this wedding stuff has got me thinking. About the future.”
She put down her knife. “Derek, you don’t need to pay any attention to Marsha and all her hinting. Believe me, I don’t.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s not that. It’s just…” Sighing, he laid down his knife and turned to face her. “I’ve never thought of myself as the kind of guy who gets married.”
“Oh.” Chris nodded as she let this sink in. “Okay.” She turned back to the board and picked up the knife, intent on chopping up another carrot.
“What I mean is I never thought about it. I never really had a reason to. My life was so consumed with what happened to Jimmy, and my career… but now he’s gone, and you’re here, and now I’m thinking about it.”
“Oh,” she said again.
“That’s all.” He picked up another potato. “I thought you should know that.”
“Okay. Thanks for the info.”
He nodded, and they chopped in a silence that had turned uncomfortable and awkward. After a moment, Chris set her knife back down. “I hope you don’t think I’ve been thinking about it.”
He looked at her. “You haven’t?” He looked surprised, but also a little hurt.
“I mean, it’s not like I never think about it. And I guess we’ve been together long enough that we should have some idea of where we’re headed—”
“See, that’s just it. Where are we headed? I know you’re not the sort to only want to live together.”
“I’m not?”
“No, you’re not.”
She put a hand on her hip. “How do you know I’m not?”
He set his knife back down and turned to look at her. “Because you’re the kind who waits. Which is fine, because you’re worth waiting for. But what is it, exactly, that you’re waiting for?”
“I’m waiting to be sure it’s right.”
“Uh huh. And if I give you a key to my place and ask you to move in, then will it be right?”
“Are you asking me?”
“What if I was?”
She simply stared at him, not knowing what to say. He waited expectantly for a moment, then gave her a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not. Because I know you’re not the type.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe I’m not. So what does that mean?”
“It means I’m back to thinking about whether I’m the marrying type. Because whether you know it or not, I’m pretty sure you are.”
She folded her arms as she looked up at him. “So now you think you know me better than I know myself?”
“I think you are an eternal mystery. But in this one instance, yeah, I kinda think I do.” Suddenly, he took her by the shoulders. “Look. The point is, I love you, and I don’t want to screw this up. And maybe I already have.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m unemployed and my career’s in the toilet.”
“I don’t care about that. And you have your YouTube channel. It’s doing well.”
“Yeah, for now. But what happens if people lose interest? And is that something I really want to do long term? How sustainable is that? I feel like I should have something more solid under my feet if I’m going to think about starting a family.”
She blinked. “There’s a whole family now? Wow, you really have been thinking a lot about this.”
“I’m trying to see the big picture, is all.”
She stepped away from him and held up her hands. “Okay, take a breath. Relax. We don’t need to rush this. Like I said, I’m not thinking about this.” At the hurt creeping into his gaze, she amended, “I’m not not thinking about it, but it’s not something I’m stressing over right now.” She reached out and took his hands. “I love you, too, Derek, and I do want a future with you, but this is good right now, what we’ve got going. So let’s promise each other that we won’t let this wedding business make us both crazy. Okay?”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay.” She blew out a breath. Releasing his hands, she turned back to the chopping. Finished with the potatoes, Derek scooped them into a roasting pan, then grabbed an onion, peeled off the skin, and added it to her chopping pile.
“You’re right about one thing, though,” she said after the silence between them became companionable again.
“About what?”
She leaned in and nudged him with her shoulder. “This is
nice.”
“Yeah.” He looked over at her and smiled a satisfied smile. “It is.”
It had been a long day. Chris had spent much of it helping Derek comb through video and audio files and then assisting him both with cooking and with cleaning her pantry, all while trying to sort through her feelings about the conversation they’d had that morning. She wanted nothing more than to go to bed and get a good night’s sleep. But when she got to her room, Marsha was already there, clad in her pajamas with two glasses of wine poured and her laptop open. She grinned and held up her wine glass. “Hey there, maid of honor!”
Chris shut her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose, suppressing the urge to sigh long and loud as she exhaled. Opening her eyes, she made herself smile. “Hey. So I guess we’re doing this now?”
Marsha’s smile lost some of its wattage. “I thought we said—”
“We did. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day, and I guess I forgot.”
“Oh. Well, we can do it some other time.”
“No!” Chris strode over to the bed and settled down next to Marsha. “It’s fine. Now’s good.”
“If you’re sure…”
Chris picked up the wine waiting on her nightstand and took a substantial sip. Then she nodded. “I’m sure.” She scooted over next to Marsha, the better to see the screen, and got comfortable. “What have we got here?”
That smile brightened again. “Well, I thought we’d start with bridesmaid dresses. We’ll still need to go shopping, but we should narrow down the color and style first. I want you to be happy.”
“Don’t worry about me. It’s your wedding.”
“I know, but I don’t want to be the walking cliché who forces everyone to wear terrible dresses. I want everyone to be comfortable.”
A little surprised, Chris nodded appreciatively as she sipped her wine. She’d thought Marsha would be exactly that kind of cliché. “How many bridesmaids will you have, anyway?”
“Well, besides you, I plan to ask my sister-in-law.”
“Is that all?”
Marsha’s frown was almost imperceptible, but it was noticeable enough to make Chris regret asking. She shrugged. “There’s also my best friend from college, and another friend I have down in Dallas, if they’re not too busy. But I don’t want to ask them until we’ve got the date nailed down.” She glanced at Chris, who didn’t need to ask what she was thinking. They couldn’t exactly nail down a date until either their venue was free and clear of destructive spirits, or they gave up and found another place to have the wedding.
“We’ll get this mess figured out soon. Don’t worry.”
“Oh, I’m not. I have complete confidence in your abilities.”
“Really?”
Marsha looked at her and grinned. “Absolutely.”
“Thanks.” She took another sip, saw that her glass was almost empty, finished it off, and held it out to Marsha for a refill. “Did you ever get a hold of your grandmother?”
“No. Wherever she is, she must not be in range of a signal. Either that or she’s keeping her phone turned off until she’s good and ready to turn it back on.” She seemed to consider this as she topped off both their glasses and took a drink from her own. “Knowing her, it’s probably the second thing.”
“I hope she turns it back on soon, because I’ve got a lot of questions for her.”
“You and me both.” Marsha waved a dismissive hand and directed Chris’s attention back to the screen. “But let’s not talk about that now. We’ve got more pressing matters to discuss.”
Chris wasn’t sure how deciding on the cut and color of a dress was more pressing than dealing with whatever it was that seemed to have it in for Marsha, but then she supposed these things took on a lot more weight when you had your own wedding to plan.
“I like this trend I’ve been seeing of letting each bridesmaid pick out her own style, as long as the colors coordinate.” She scrolled through her board and clicked on a picture to enlarge it. “That way everything’s not matchy-matchy. See?”
The photo was of a bridal party standing out in a field, with the bride flanked on each side by women in various styles of yellow dresses. “Yeah, I like that idea.”
“We need to decide on a color, though. I want something that’s going to flatter everyone.” She glanced at Chris. “Your ginger complexion will make that a challenge, but I’m sure it can be done. Do you know your season?”
“My what?”
“Are you a winter, spring, summer, or fall?”
“Um. I really like fall.”
Marsha laughed. “No, I mean your skin tone. Have you never had your colors done?”
“I can’t say as I have.”
Marsha leaned back and scrutinized her. “Hmm. A lot of redheads are autumns, but with your blue eyes I’d say you’re probably more of a spring. Which is good, because so is Lisa.”
“Who?”
“My sister-in-law. Anyway, we can get your colors done when we go dress shopping. It’s not something we need to know right now.”
“Okay.”
Closing the enlarged photo, Marsha gave Chris a sidelong look. “Can I show you some wedding dresses?”
“Of course.”
Giggling like a schoolgirl, Marsha bounced a little on the bed as she pulled up another board. This one featured photo after photo of bridal gowns. Chris only had to sip her wine and nod occasionally and make noises of agreement as Marsha rattled off her thoughts on each one. One dress in particular stood out to Chris, a simple, clean-lined dress that looked like something Audrey Hepburn would wear. As Marsha prattled on, Chris’s attention kept drifting as she imagined herself in that dress.
“So what do you think?” Marsha asked.
Chris blinked and stared at her. She looked at the screen, which showed an enlarged picture of a fitted white mermaid dress covered in little blue embroidered flowers. “It’s really beautiful.”
“I know! I don’t know if the silhouette is right for me, and with the hand-embroidery, it’s bound to break my dress budget. But I’m so in love with it.”
“I think you’d look amazing in it.”
Marsha beamed at her. “Really?”
Before Chris could provide any more encouragement, the bedroom door swung open, and Marsha gasped. Chris tensed up but relaxed when Miss Kitty hopped up on the bed and greeted them with a loud meow.
Marsha put a hand over her heart and breathed deeply. “Oh, that startled me.”
“It’s only Miss Kitty letting us know it’s bedtime.” Chris set her glass down and pulled the cat into her lap. “She’s had a long day of eating and napping. That really takes it out of a girl.”
Marsha scratched her under the chin, eliciting a loud purr. “Understandable. I guess I’m pretty beat myself. And I know you must be exhausted.”
Without meaning to, Chris yawned loudly. “Yeah. Like I said, it’s been a long day.”
Marsha closed the laptop and got up to put it in her bag. “Well, we can finish this some other time. And pretty soon we’ll need to go shopping for real. Let me know a day that works for you.” Coming back to the bed, she paused to smile down at Chris. “This was fun. I’m glad we did it.”
Chris didn’t know if it was exactly her idea of fun, but she’d enjoyed it more than she’d expected to. “Yeah. Me too.”
Marsha pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. She lay down and waited while Chris got comfortable on her side. Once she and the cat were both settled, Marsha asked, “Do you think we’ll be safe?”
“I don’t know,” Chris said in all honesty. “But I’m right here, and Derek’s right next door, and knowing Ron and Joe, they’ll be keeping an eye on things while we sleep. So I think we’re as safe as we can be, under the circumstances.”
Marsha seemed to accept this. “Okay. Goodnight,” she said, and turned off her lamp.
“Night.” With one last look around the room to make sure they didn’t have any visitors, she turned out the
other light.
Chapter Twelve
It was a scream that woke her. Chris sat up in bed and turned on the light. Beside her, Marsha lay paralyzed with her arms pinned to her sides, her face a mask of terror. “Marsha, what—”
“Help me!” she cried, and then started making gagging noises as if she couldn’t breathe. Chris threw off the covers and got to her knees. The cat shrieked and darted under the bed. Chris shook Marsha, hoping to snap her out of it, but something hit her, hard, and knocked her onto her back.
The knob on the bedroom door rattled, followed by pounding on the door. “Chris!” Derek yelled. “Let me in!”
With a glance at Marsha, Chris got unsteadily to her feet and staggered to the door. The knob wouldn’t turn. “I can’t open it!”
“Stand back!”
She hurried back to Marsha. Bruises began to form on her neck. Her eyes bulged, and her face turned purple. Chris still could see no visible sign of the entity. “Ron!” she screamed while behind her, Derek slammed into the door. It didn’t open.
Ron and Joe both appeared in the room. Joe swore uncharacteristically at the sight of Marsha. “What’s doing that to her?”
“I can’t see anything.” Chris looked at Ron. “Can you?”
“No. What do we do?”
“Help Derek get the door open so we can get her out of here.” While they went to work on the door, Chris managed to get Marsha into a sitting position and tried doing the Heimlich maneuver, but it didn’t work. It wasn’t something she swallowed that was choking her.
Finally, the door opened, and Derek rushed in. “We have to get her out of here,” Chris told him. He scooped Marsha into his arms and turned to carry her out of the room, but the door slammed shut. Objects from the dresser, things Marsha had arranged there, flew at them. The furniture began to vibrate and shake, as though the entity was trying to muster the strength to make it fly as well.
Ron caught a can of hair spray out of the air right before it smacked Chris in the head. She turned around and threw it as hard as she could at the window. “You’re not the only angry spirit in this room,” she shouted at the entity as she grabbed a flying hairbrush and went to finish the job on the window. “This way!”
Bound Spirits Page 9