by Karina Halle
“Now, I love making inappropriate banter with strangers; I seriously do. But on this particular day I don’t feel like talking to anyone. So, I ignore this person who’s standing beside me. I probably did this for about three minutes or so, long enough for the boat I was watching to motor away. Finally, I just can’t take it anymore. For an instant I even think it’s probably someone looking the other way. Fascinating how we always assume things revolve around us.
“But I was right to begin with. I see this old lady standing beside me, staring right at me. She is exactly as you have described. Right down to the lipstick on the teeth. She was also wearing something highly inappropriate. So much so that later on when I described what I saw to Jenn, I was shocked that she hadn’t seen her. How could you not see an old lady wearing Dame Edna makeup and a gown ripped straight off of Bette Davis’s dead body?”
Dex’s tale was creating shivers up my spine.
“And...what happened?” I asked, enthralled. I was suddenly very glad we were close to each other in this car. I was about ready to jump into his arms.
He cleared his throat. “Well. I don’t know. We must have stood there for some time, though maybe it was just a few seconds. Her smile was so…omniscient. I couldn’t think of what to do or say. And the funniest thing was that she seemed oddly familiar. She said some stuff to me that…well, she seemed to know everything about me. She said...”
His voice trailed off and he looked down at his hands. A lock of hair fell forward again. I waited for him to continue, not wanting to pry since the topic seemed to be more than personal.
“Basically, she said that I’d find someone who could help me find what I was looking for. Someone who would help me get closure. Then she started to leave. For some reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to run after her, as slowly as she was moving. I could only ask ‘Who?’ She told me exactly this ‘You will find her in the lighthouse.’ And then she went around the corner and was gone.”
“You didn’t go after her?”
He shook his head, the white of his eyes showing clearly. “I couldn’t. All I could think was that I had to get back to Jenn. I didn’t want to see that woman again.”
“But she knew all that stuff about you, that no one else would know!” I cried out.
“I know,” he said. “But I didn’t want to know how she knew.”
“The lighthouse,” I mused.
“Well, it didn’t make much sense to me until later when I came across…well, you. And it still didn’t make any sense, at least at the time. But…”
He looked at me with a tinge of yearning. Maybe it was amazement. Maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see.
“Anyway, I knew I had to get you on board with my idea, no matter what.”
“You told the twins that it was your boss’s idea and you that were just doing what ‘the man’ says,” I pointed out, still annoyed over that revelation last night.
“I lied,” he said simply.
“Why?”
“Because sometimes I lie, Perry. We all lie, even you, but not everyone is brave enough to admit it.”
I wasn’t satisfied with that unsettling answer. I knew it would only serve to make me second guess everything he did and said now, but I ignored it and urged him to continue.
“So you wanted me because I was the lighthouse lady?”
“At first. And then it made me realize that perhaps it was a sign that I was on the right track. That this was the time to finally break away from Wine Babes and get something started on my own. Wine Babes was always Jenn and Jimmy’s idea…I was only brought on at a later date when the last cameraman quit.”
“Well,” I said and sat back against my seat. I wasn’t sure what to make of this now.
“Well,” he agreed. We sat there in silence for a few moments. Finally, I had to ask.
“And then you saw her. Just now in the diner. What did she say to you that made you freak out like that?”
His eyes flashed with fear. He fixed them on me. They held me there.
“I’d rather not say. Basically...” He sighed and started to chew on his lip. I watched him intently to make sure he didn’t draw blood again. “She basically said that this was only the beginning. And that we had to finish what we started.”
“And what do you think that means?” I asked.
He ignored me. “Did she say anything to you?”
I felt that if I told him what she said, if there was some truth to it, which I believed there was, it would only put him on the spot. But, unlike Dex, I couldn’t lie. He would know.
“She said that you’d tell me what happened to you. Whatever that means. And that I had to watch you.” I left out the part about being cut from the same cloth. That notion was too ridiculous to even mention. And kind of insulting.
“Watch me? For what?” He asked, almost uninterested.
“I don’t know. She’s some creepy clown lady.”
He managed a smile and stared at his fingernails. “Yes. She is. But she knows us. She knows both of us.”
“She knows you,” I pointed out. “I only saw her once before this and now she only talked about you.”
“She mentioned you, too,” he admitted casually.
My heart flitted a beat. I felt he was about to say something damning, though I had no idea what that could be. She knew something deep, dark and secret about Dex. What deep, dark and secret thing could she know about me?
“What did she say?”
“She said that I needed to take care of you. That you needed me. And that I had to keep an eye on you.” He laughed at that last part. “I think she was implying that you could be dangerous.”
Me? Dangerous? I gave Dex a wildly bewildered look to amplify the doubt and confusion that I was feeling.
“Don’t look so shocked,” he said calmly. “I can see it.”
“See what?”
“I told you that you scared me, didn’t I?” He looked me in the eye for a second and then looked away.
Even though I had taken stunt lessons to feel powerful, to feel dangerous, what he just said chilled me to the core. I knew I could be vaguely dangerous with a hooking block, but to have this older, stronger, weirder man tell me he was scared of me...well that wasn’t right. I wasn’t like that.
“I’m five foot two and as sweet as a mouse,” I said defensively.
He pursed his lips and raised his brow. “You are short. And I know you can be sweet when you want to be. But there are different kinds of dangerous, kiddo. I’m just going to leave it at that.”
I had the need to vindicate myself and show him how sweet I could be. But perhaps that’s what he was talking about. I suddenly found myself doubting my very nature.
“Hey,” he said and pressed his index finger in between my brows, smoothing out the furrow that must have been there. “It’s OK. I’m a big boy. I’ll watch out for you if you’ll watch out for me. Deal?”
His finger felt hot against my forehead, melting into it like a knife into a warmed block of butter.
“Deal.” I smiled, shyly. He removed his finger and looked wistful.
“What now?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“What do you think this all means?”
“Again, I wish I knew. But I think we are meant to find out.”
“Meant to? Like fate?” Dex didn’t strike me as someone who put too much stock into fate.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I think you agree that this is much bigger than the both of us. That woman. What’s happening to you. These aren’t just coincidences. Things are happening for a reason.”
“Be that as it may, I still don’t know what we’re supposed to do about it.”
“I think you do. You said so earlier.”
Did I? I exhaled loudly and watched the rain patter on the window. It was slowing down and the sky was lighting up a shade or two. It was hard to believe it was just ten a.m. It had only been twenty-four hours since Dex had picked m
e up from my parents, but it felt like a lifetime ago.
Yes, I guess I did know what I—we—had to do. The only thing that seemed right. Go back to the lighthouse one more time while we were still out here. Film the crap out of that thing. Get it done and get out. Alive.
I didn’t add that last word for effect, even though I got goose bumps as I thought it. Something told me that going back this time would be a lot different. A lot bigger. A lot more terrifying. If we went back to the lighthouse, something would definitely go down. There was too much buildup, too many feelings for it not to. The woman told Dex that we weren’t finished yet; call me crazy, but I was inclined to believe her.
“When the woman talked to you in the diner, did anyone else notice her?” I asked curiously.
He thought a moment then shook his head. “I honestly didn’t notice. I thought I saw the waitress give her a strange look, which would mean the lady is in fact real. You know, not a ghost. If that’s what you’re asking. But I can’t be sure.”
“She’s either real or she’s not. If she’s not real, she’s a ghost.”
“She could be something we are both imagining.”
“Is that even possible?”
“I think we’d have to share a conscience if it were. I’m not big on fringe science, though maybe I should start looking into it. Take a community college course on it. They have paraphysics at ITT Tech, right?”
His smile stretched lazily across his face. It pleased me to see the color had returned and his eyes were calmer, pliable. I felt calmer too, just knowing that we were both in this together.
“So, then I guess the only thing left to do is to go back and try again. Today,” I announced, newly determined.
“Tonight,” was his rebuttal.
“All logic and rational thought points to a daytime visit,” I argued.
“You know nothing is going to happen during the day.”
“No, I don’t know that. You don’t know that. Crazy crap happens all the time in the daylight. And it’ll be so much easier to catch on film.”
“Exactly! It would be easier, hence why nothing will happen during the day. Don’t you ever wonder why no one has gotten flat-out photographic proof of a ghost? Because they can’t be seen that way.”
“Is that your theory?”
“Yes. And it’s a good one. Ghosts, the paranormal, weird shit. There is never solid proof because whatever we are hunting refuses to be captured. They refuse to be seen by everyone. They exist enough to lure us in and seduce us but in the end will never give us anything solid. It’s like...ghost law. Didn’t you see Beetlejuice?”
“Uh huh,” I said slowly. Though an awesome film, I had no idea what he was getting at.
“They got in shit for letting themselves be photographed. I don’t think that’s too far off. Plus, I think the energies can only be picked up by certain types of people, say people like you. And, well, it just makes for more suspenseful filmmaking.”
“I thought you didn’t believe there were ghosts...”
“I lie. Remember?”
Oh, right.
“What if we go just as it gets dark?” I proposed, trying to compromise on behalf of my chickenshit nerves.
“Because seven p.m. isn’t as scary as two a.m.?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
He shrugged. “Fine by me. Then we can head back to Portland as soon as it’s over. You do have work tomorrow, don’t you?”
I nodded. I did have work. I had that meeting and had almost forgotten about it. I didn’t want to go into the meeting looking and feeling like hell, but I knew I didn’t have much of a choice.
That being said, of course I did have a choice. I could call the whole thing off and forget about it. Get on with my life. But I didn’t want to get on with my life, not the life that I left behind in Portland. Even with the promise of a promotion in the wings, I couldn’t imagine going back to the way things were. It was unnerving, horrifying at times, to feel like your grasp on reality was loosening, to be dealing with things that were way beyond anything you understood about life and death. And yet it was so enthralling.
Somehow, by dealing with the dead, I had never felt so alive.
And having Dex at my side helped too. In fact, I don’t think I would be able to go on if it wasn’t for him. Somehow he made the dreams, the scares, the unknown, all bearable. And now, after talking to him in this cold, rain-beaten car parked on the side of the coastal highway, I felt I was one step better to understanding him.
Well, one step with a million more to go. But still.
He sat back in his seat properly and put on the seat belt. He adjusted his jacket and gave me a smile that made me weak at the knees. I was glad I was sitting down.
“Shall we head back to your uncle’s place and plan this thing properly?”
I smiled and nodded. Not so much at what he just said, though. I nodded to myself, realizing that as I was getting to know Dex better, I needed to be on my guard. Regardless of evil curses, Old Roddy, or Creepy Clown Lady, falling for this man would be the scariest thing of all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Suffice to say, Uncle Al was mighty surprised when we showed up at his door again. As much as he loved the company, I was sure he breathed a giant sigh of relief when Dex and I had left that morning. Sorry, Uncle Al; you can’t get rid of us that easily.
Still, he was gracious enough to let us lounge around in his house all day. The boys were up at this point and playing video games, which suited Dex just fine. I decided to make myself useful and relinquish some of the guilt I felt by making an apple pie for the men from scratch. Yeah, I know I don’t seem like the type of girl who would slave over a stove (and I’m not; my cooking skills are atrocious), but I did have my way with the oven.
Besides, it was something to do in order to pass the time. I had already used the twins’ internet for an hour just answering emails from people and checking out the blog comments. Ada was back in full-swing and fully immersed in proving her blog was her blog and no one else’s. In fact, she had posted every day since I left. It felt like she was trying to bury my posts under heaps of fashion and frivolity.
It didn’t really matter, though. I knew I had a back-up plan (Dex), and I was still getting inquiring emails about my adventures anyway. A local ghost hunter’s chapter out of Salem (go figure), Oregon, was asking if they could interview me or perhaps come see the lighthouse. I decided to let them stew on that for a while, even though the answer at this point was a flat-out no.
Yet I couldn’t help but bring it up with Dex as we sat down at the kitchen table armed with pens and pads of paper, ready to plot out the course of the evening.
“So, a local ghost hunter’s club in Salem was hoping I could come aboard their team and perhaps show them around the lighthouse,” I said casually.
Dex stopped whatever he was writing but didn’t look up at me.
He cleared his throat. “And?”
“I haven’t gotten back to them,” I answered truthfully.
He opened his mouth to say something but then abruptly shut it.
But then he opened it again. “Well, you can do whatever you want to do. You’re a free agent. We haven’t signed anything.”
He sounded nonchalant, like he sincerely didn’t care what I did. It bugged me. I was kind of hoping he would get jealous, as immature and petty as that sounds. It totally backfired.
As if on cue to totally hammer that point down, Dex’s cell started vibrating on the table. A picture of Jennifer flashed across the screen. I know my face must have fallen and was quickly turning a vibrant shade of pink. Luckily, he was occupied.
“Hey, babe,” he answered.
I could hear her voice muffled on the other end. She seemed to speak for quite a while. Dex briefly looked at me and I tried to project a casual curiosity.
“Yes, that’s fine. Seriously, I don’t mind. Go do whatever it is you girls do. No problem. I won’t be home now until morning anyway.”
His eyes flitted to mine but he was looking through me again. His voice was different when he was talking to her. It was a pitch or two higher and none of that sexy, gravely warble. I wondered what that meant, if anything.
“Yes, not yet. OK. Bye.”
He pressed the off button and put down his phone.
“OK, where were we?” he asked himself, picking up the pen and putting it to paper.
I couldn’t help but ask, “She doesn’t mind you staying another night?”
He shook his head. “No.”
He tapped the paper with the butt of his pen and stared out the window. “Do you have any more pie?”
“Yeah, there’s a slice or two that I put back in the fridge,” I said uneasily. I guess he wasn’t going to talk about her to me. Maybe I did ask too many questions. Maybe he just wanted pie.
He folded his hands neatly in front of him and put on a very sweet smile.
“Would you mind getting me a piece of pie?” He raised his brows, the wide-eyed manic look coming into his eyes.
I tried not to roll my own eyes and got up. I opened the fridge, bent over and pulled out the pie and a bottle of milk. I waved it at him.
“Want a glass of milk, too?” I asked scornfully.
He was staring at my ass. At least that’s what it looked like. I guess when it’s the biggest thing in the room, it must be hard not to stare at it.
I waited for him to look up. He eventually did and gave me a bright, innocent flash of straight teeth.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Were you staring at my ass?”
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. His eyes were round and crazy. Or playful, if you wanted to use a polite term for crazy.
I shook my head. I put the milk back in the fridge, without bending over this time, got out a fork and put a pie slice in front of him. I could feel the flames creeping up my neck and onto my cheeks.
He didn’t seem bothered by it.
“Obviously, I’ll need a napkin too,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Obviously,” I muttered, as I walked over to the drawer and tossed a napkin in front of him. I sat back down across from him and eyed him warily.