Ghost Sickness

by Amber Foxx

  Within seconds, the guests streamed out carrying bottles and bags, some mumbling and griping, some laughing. Melody followed them and slammed the door shut. “And don’t drive drunk. Sleep in your cars if you have to. Just don’t piss on my lawn.”

  A slow smile lit up Misty’s face, and she applauded. “Go, Mel.”

  Jamie applauded with her.

  Most of the party-goers walked toward the campground. Some, including Will, were stumbling. A few slipped into cars and drove off slowly toward 70. Jamie finally dropped the empty can into the recycling bin on the porch. It rattled among the soda cans, the only sound in the post-party quiet. Misty looked to Melody. “Is it okay if I stay here tonight? I didn’t pack anything and I’ll need to borrow some of your old clothes.”

  “Of course it’s okay. It’s always okay.” Melody opened the door to let Misty in. “Thanks, Pudge. We’ll be all right now.”

  “Thanks for what? Didn’t do anything. You did it all.”

  “No.” Melody hugged him. “You made me strong. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Jamie walked back to his tent, shivering. His feet were like blocks of ice. Dirty ice. Awful to put those in the sleeping bag with Mae. She would understand. If a friend of hers had shown up crying, she’d have gone out of her way, too. Still, he felt guilty. He was going to bother her again.

  As quietly as possible, he lifted the flap and crept in, squirmed out of his jeans, and rummaged in his backpack for socks to cover his cold, filthy feet. In the dark, everything he touched felt like a sock and yet turned out to be a sleeve. A quiet curse escaped him and Mae stirred, murmuring something so drowsy he couldn’t make it out.

  “Sorry.” Finally. Socks. He put them on and crawled in beside her.

  She cuddled against him. “You’re wearing a shirt.”

  “Yeah.” He was still so cold he didn’t want to remove it.

  “You went out to brush your teeth and came back with a shirt?”

  “Yeah. Long story.”

  Mae slid her warm hand under the shirt and caressed his back. “Sugar, you have never told me a short one.”

  “Is that bad?”

  “No.” She kissed him lightly. “But it means it can wait ’til morning.”

  He felt her body soften, and her breath slowed and changed texture. Already asleep again. Jamie kissed her on the nose and lay awake, resting in the embrace.

  Mae’s sweet acceptance touched him. After wading into Zak and Melody’s marital crap, he’d come back to shelter from a storm. More than that. He’d lain down with a fucking miracle. The longer he lay awake feeling Mae sleeping against him, the more his heart filled and swelled with something too big for him, unbearable joy tangled with a sense of precariousness, as if he’d climbed to a peak with a breathtaking view and stood on a ledge so narrow and high he couldn’t be safe. Overwhelmed, heart pounding, he pulled her closer and held her tight. She stirred. He apologized for waking her again.

  “It’s okay, sugar,” she whispered. “Relax. Everything’s all right.”

  “I know. I mean, I should. I do. I just ...” How could he explain what had come over him? “I love you.” So much it scared him.

  Chapter Seven

  Faint morning light filtered through the fabric of the tent. Like a bird signaled by the dawn, Mae was wide awake despite her fatigue, while Jamie lay on his back borderline snoring, finally peaceful as he usually was once it was light out. When the long weekend was over, she would need a few nights by herself to recover from four nights with him. For now, running would be the best way to refresh herself.

  Having slept her fragmented sleep next to the tent wall, Mae had to crawl over Jamie to get out of the bag. She moved slowly so as not to disturb him, but as soon as she was above him, his arms shot up and wrapped around her. He pulled her down onto him with a loud, happy humming sound.

  His eyes were still closed, long lashes soft against his cheeks. She kissed his eyelids, then his lips. “I was trying to let you sleep.”

  “Mm.” He loosened his hold on her. “Mm-mm.”

  “I’m gonna go for a run.” She looked down at the shirt he still wore. It was light brown with darker brown lettering and art that looked like the signs along the roads warning of the Mescalero fire risk level. The list of things forbidden went beyond the usual—campfires and smoking—to include burning desires, smoldering passions, and old flames. The jokes made her smile. She’d seen shirts like that for sale at the powwow. Jamie’s father must have loaned it to him. “Get some rest.” She ran her fingers through his hair, combing a few tangles out. She should have brushed it for him when they went to bed. That helped him sleep better than anything. “I’ll wake you up when I get back.”

  “Love you.” His hand trailed over hers as she slipped away.

  “I love you, too, sugar.”

  She dressed and crawled out the flap.

  Starting her run, Mae crossed the road through a break in the steady stream of vans and trucks. Some of the vendors had already parked to set up their wares at booths along the roadside, but most were heading up toward the ceremonial grounds. Orville Geronimo grinned and waved to her from the cab of a black pickup. His two preteen boys and Reno were packed into the seat beside him and the back of the truck was full of boxes. Reno stared ahead as they passed, either ignoring her or not seeing her.

  She wondered if Misty would ask her to look into his secrets again. Perhaps being with his family for a few days would get him to open up finally and make it unnecessary.

  Running along the access road parallel to Route 70, Mae heard pounding steps catching up with her and turned her head to see the last person she would ever want to run with.

  Zak had sprinted, but he wasn’t winded. He wore skimpy white shorts and no shirt, displaying lean, powerful legs and a sculpted torso. “You must be psychic,” he said. “You knew I’d be here.”

  “I wasn’t looking for you.”

  He fell in step too close beside her. “Still, be glad you found me.”

  Mae increased the space between them. “Where did you come from?”

  He nodded toward the blue house on the curve where the road turned toward the ceremonial grounds. A boxy late-eighties AMC Eagle sat in the drive near Misty’s Harley. “That’s my digs.”

  So it wasn’t Misty’s parents’ house, but her older sister’s.

  Zak drew closer again. “I’ll show you the route for the race Saturday.”

  Mae hesitated to respond. She wanted to know more about the race, but wondered if she could endure Zak’s company.

  “Not too talkative, are you? Bad mood? Had some problems with Baldy this morning?”

  “No. We’re fine.”

  “What’s he up to while you run?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “Maybe you’d better call and make sure that’s where he is. Did he tell you where he went last night?”

  The idea that Jamie had been anywhere but with his parents startled her, but she didn’t want to let Zak know. It would be exactly the reaction he was looking for. She kept her tone casual and made her answer fuzzy. “We haven’t had a chance to talk much yet.”

  “Ri—ight.”

  Zak’s smug sarcasm cut into Mae’s intention not to let him get to her. Not because she doubted Jamie, but because Zak apparently wanted her to.

  “Can’t tell you what he did, though.” Zak picked up the pace. “Man code. How far do you run?”

  What was the matter with him? He was answering questions she hadn’t asked, as if he had a script in his head for how she should act. “Man code. That is stupid.” Jamie liked to socialize and have a few drinks, but he would never leave Mae in the middle of the night for that, and he hadn’t smelled like alcohol—or felt the need to brush his teeth again. “He doesn’t have anything to hide.”

  “Ri—ight. Untwist your panties. How far do you run?”

  Mae clenched her jaw, then blew out her breath. Jamie would tell her whatever there was to tell.
She shouldn’t have engaged with Zak, shouldn’t have let him trip her into playing his game. She made herself shift gears into normal conversation. “Three to five miles, usually. I’m training for a triathlon now, so I’m doing more biking and swimming.”

  “Cool. I do tri’s. Which one?”

  “Me and my daddy are gonna do the Dam It Man at Elephant Butte.” The name of the race punned on the dam at Elephant Butte Lake. “It’s my first—just a sprint triathlon.”

  “Sprints are all I have time to train for. I did that one last year. I sucked at the swimming part. But I still might do it if I’m not called out on a fire.”

  “Wouldn’t you just schedule your time off?”

  “Wildfire, not a house fire.” He sounded offended, as if she’d suggested he played with toy fire trucks. Was a house fire too domestic for him? “I just got back from the Wallow Fire. That was one hell of a tough job.”

  Though he was boasting, she couldn’t blame him. Fighting forest fires took courage. Any appreciation of his work might sound like admiration of Zak himself, though, so Mae said nothing. Now that she knew Zak’s occupation, she guessed the source of the T-shirt with the fire danger jokes—and Jamie’s late night absence suddenly bothered her, the way she supposed Zak wanted it to. Jamie had been at his asshole friend’s house.

  They ran in silence for a while, playing a maddening game of tag in which Zak kept getting in her personal space and she kept moving away from him.

  He looked down at her feet. “You wear those barefoot shoes. You like ’em?”

  “I do.” Her Southern habits made her feel obligated to return the small talk, while she widened the gap between them again. “My ex-husband got me into using ’em.” She didn’t feel like saying second ex-husband, expecting Zak would make some snarky comment.

  “Bet you miss him. Jamie sure as hell doesn’t run with you.”

  The derogatory tone grated on Mae’s nerves. “He can’t—his hip’s messed up. He had a lot of rock-climbing accidents.”

  “I know—back when he was with that other white chick. The snooty bitch.” Zak grinned at her. “Ol’ Pudge doesn’t look like he does much climbing anymore.”

  Mae knew she’d let Zak yank her chain again, but she didn’t like hearing him cut Jamie down. “You don’t have to make it sound like he’s some total slob because he’s not like you.” She took satisfaction in Zak’s fleeting chastised look. Got him. “He bikes and swims and does yoga—he stays in shape. But he can’t climb anymore. He messed up his hand and shoulder in another accident.”

  “I wondered where he got the new scars.” Zak gave Mae a wicked smirk. “You should’ve seen him last night. Somebody undressed him halfway—” Zak drew his thumb and forefinger across his lips as if pulling a zipper. “Whoops. Man code.”

  “Will you cut the stupid man code? You can stop trying to pretend you didn’t have a party.”

  “You make a party sound like a crime. Is that what you think? You know, not all Indians are a bunch of drunks.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Sure you didn’t.”

  “You know I didn’t. I swear, talking to you is like playing Twister with an octopus.”

  Zak laughed. “Good one, Miss Mary-Mae. You’re getting the hang of this.”

  The hang of what? Getting into an argument about nothing for the sake of having one? The prissy nickname annoyed her, too, but if she said something about it, no doubt Zak would enjoy her objection and launch a new round of recreational hostilities. She’d already let him draw her in too many times.

  He guided her at a slow jog into a parking lot in front of a plain white one-story building. A sign identified it as the tribal wellness center. “The race starts here, eight o’clock Saturday. Five K, ten K and a mile walk for the beginners. We’re doing the ten K. Ready to see if I can beat you?”

  Mae wanted to leave him in her dust, but it wasn’t likely that she could. She’d seen a sign on Route 70 indicating the altitude was nearly 7,600 feet, over 3,000 feet above T or C. Not enough difference to stop her from running well, but enough to guarantee he’d be faster. “You live at this altitude and I don’t. Of course you’re gonna beat me.”

  “Then you get to look at my ass. Too bad I won’t get to look at yours.”

  “I don’t like how you flirt all the time. You’re married—”

  “To a porker. Come on. You can’t tell me you don’t look around.”

  They began with a long downhill stretch. Mae stayed in the grassy verge of the road. Not only did it feel better in her barefoot shoes, it kept the space between her and Zak. “I do not look around.”

  “I wish you would.”

  She took off fast and hard, not caring if she burned out before the ten kilometers. Zak caught up as if he were out for a stroll. “I’m just playing with you. I don’t mean any harm. Ask Jamie. He knows me.”

  He’d already told her. Old Zak’s all right. Hot air, y’know? Jamie saw something likeable in this arrogant jerk, but the patience and insight it took him to do that, or the deluded optimism, were more than Mae could muster.

  Cooling down at the end of the run, they slowed from a jog to a walk near Zak’s house, where she hoped to shed him. He stopped in front of his driveway. “Come in for a shower?”

  The day was growing hot and she looked forward to cleaning up, but she wasn’t about to get undressed anywhere near him. “No thanks.”

  “You think white girls’ sweat don’t stink?” He went straight from flirting to insulting her, all with that same edgy smile.

  “Jamie’s got a place for us to clean up.”

  “Yeah. My place.”

  Shit. “I’ll come back later with him, then.”

  Instead of saying goodbye and turning off at his driveway, Zak tagged along as she crossed the street toward the camp. “More fun if you come by yourself. Just you and me.”

  The more she rejected him, the more he enjoyed it, so she said nothing more, though she could have pointed out that they wouldn’t be alone. That he had a family—something he’d apparently forgotten.

  When Mae stopped to stretch at the fence outside the camping area, he imitated everything she did, claiming he didn’t know how to stretch properly and was learning. It was like something kids did to drive each other crazy. Mama, make him stop! He’s mocking me! She finished without giving in to the outburst of annoyance he seemed to crave, and started for the bubble-like little tent. Zak strolled beside her.

  She said, “You need to head on home.”

  He walked an inch closer. “My offer still stands. Hot shower.”

  “Go take a cold one.”

  “No. Hot.” He spoke with a rhythm as if rapping, though his meter was off. “Brown sugar, when you turn up the heat, makes the sweetest treat.”

  “Brown sugar? Pig’s arse,” Jamie appeared from around the side of his parents’ tent, a muffin in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other. “Chocolate is a fucking aphrodisiac.” He handed Mae the coffee, kissed her cheek, and then gave her the muffin. “Have a good run?”

  Zak answered before Mae could. “We did. She’s good company. I showed her the race route.”

  “Great. Glad you two are getting along.” Jamie beamed. Mae wanted to correct him, but that would have to wait. She sipped the coffee. Jamie nodded toward the big tent. “Grab some tucker, mate? Not fancy, but it’s good.”

  Zak declined, saying he needed to go home and clean up before the rodeo. Mae was relieved to see him go. She swallowed a bite of muffin. “Sugar, me and Zak are not getting along.”

  “But—” Jamie frowned, sounding bewildered. “He likes you.”

  “Well, I wish he didn’t.”

  The baby seal look, hurt and disappointed.

  Mae asked, “Did you go to a party with Zak last night?”

  “Fuck, no. Helped Mel break it up. Did he make you think—? That bastard. Sorry. He’s got a fucked-up sense of humor.”

  Jamie told the story of his nighttime di
sappearance, starting with Melody’s distress over the six-pack and the sneaking-away visitor and ending with the party.

  Mae had an image of the exotic East-West cowgirl slipping away from Hot Native Guy. “Did Zak explain who was there when Melody got home the first time?”

  “Nah. He acted like—dunno—like it was a little shady. Dead set on Mel not knowing.”

  Mae’s imagination changed the picture to Reno going out the back door. “Misty says Reno’s being kind of secretive. Won’t let her in his place anymore. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but do you think they could be into something illegal together?”

  “Hard to imagine. Especially for Zak. He was always this perfect Boy Scout, y’know? Melody was the wild one. Drugs, drinking. He was always trying to stop her. Think it was the high point of his life when she finally quit for good.”

  Mae had married her alcoholic boyfriend when she was eighteen, thinking she could save him. It was odd to think that Zak was like her in some way. Someone who had that need to rescue people. It was hard to imagine him deserving credit for Melody’s sobriety, though. He had probably nagged her about drinking the way he did about her weight.

  Jamie continued, “And he’s an EMT and a firefighter—which makes him a fucking hero around here. Can’t see him breaking the law.”

  The only blemish on Zak’s reputation was his less-than-honorable discharge from the Army. He might have made himself into a hero now to make up for it, in which case his behavior made even less sense that Reno’s did. “Can you think of anything they’d be doing that wasn’t wrong but still had to be secret?”

  “Nah. Doesn’t mean there isn’t such a thing, though. Just that we can’t figure it out. Party bothers me more than the secret, anyway. Zak likes to socialize, and they have parties without any grog, but he goes out if he’s having a drink. Keeps it away from her.” Jamie started to open the flap to his parents’ tent and paused, frowning. “Fuck. It was like—like he was trying to drive her out of the house.” He stared at Mae. “Like he wanted to make her go to her mum’s.”