The After House

by Michael Phillip Cash

  Sten shook his head. “Not yet. Eli needs them just as much as they need Eli.”

  “He’s not their soul mate.”

  “No, but you know lost souls are always searching.”

  “They didn’t cover this at sessions,” Marum said impatiently. “I still don’t understand. If he’s out of sync, two kindreds aren’t going to help him.”

  “Maybe you’re reading the situation wrong, Marum. Maybe the dynamics are vital to the three of them. Is Eli here to bring Hugh and Remy together, or are Hugh and Remy here to help the captain get home? It’s the old chicken and egg thing.”

  “Oh, so we’re back to chickens again.” Marum smiled, her humor restored. “You’re being rather cryptic,” Marum said into the empty space. Sten had vanished.

  * * *

  Hugh looked over his shoulder, and a chill danced down his spine.

  “Are you cold?” he asked.

  Remy shook her head. “No, why?”

  “It got cold in here. I know a way to warm you up.” Hugh smiled, holding out his arms to her. It seemed natural for Remy to step into his embrace. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know, it feels like. . .”

  “It feels like I’ve come home,” Remy told him, her voice soft and low.

  * * *

  Eli circled the two humans, wondering what exactly was going on. He leaned close to the male, sensing the attraction to Remy.

  “Wait a minute,” he thought, his eyes narrowing with concern. She was pretty banged up, as if she’d been knocked around in a squall. Eli felt guilty after he trashed her place. He knew he wasn’t behaving well, especially after she blamed the Scott guy. He had decided to take her under his wing. She really wasn’t a bad sort after all. He had tried to protect her in the car, from the Scott guy, of all people. They were fragile things. While he wasn’t too fond of the daughter, this one never gave him much trouble. Just what was this sailor’s intentions? He blew a blast of cold air, trying to make him uncomfortable enough to leave. They liked heat, these mortals. Didn’t she know it wasn’t safe? She needed someone to keep her from harm? A woman needs protection. He vaguely remembered watching out for someone else.

  He leaned into the man, feeling him shudder. “Nothing’s going to happen on my watch,” he whispered pointedly.

  “Did you say something?” Hugh asked, batting his hand.

  Remy looked up at him sleepily. She stretched, moaning when her muscles protested. “No. Do you mind if I lie down? I’m so tired.”

  “Call your parents and let them know what happened. Go to sleep. I. . .” He made a decision. “I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

  “You don’t have to stay.” Remy kissed his cheek feeling the beginnings of a beard. “You could come back tomorrow when I’m in better shape. You must be tired too. You were at the hospital all last night.”

  “I have to keep my constituents safe. Don’t want you slipping over to the Republican side.”

  Knowing he wanted to stay made her insides melt. “You don’t have to,” she whispered huskily.

  “I want to.”

  Remy stood, pulling him close. She reached up to kiss him softly on the lips. “Thanks,” she whispered, then shivered, feeling a chill. “You are right, it is getting chilly in here.”

  Remy went upstairs after alerting her parents about her accident. They wanted to come. She insisted she was fine, told them she was taking a nap. She never mentioned Hugh was staying.

  * * *

  Hugh entered the den, taking in the dangling arm of the television on the wall. He ran out to pull a small tool kit from the back of his truck and worked in the silence of the house. It had started snowing, and the world was taking on that muted, cozy feel. When he found a woodpile outside, he loaded up a stack next to the hearth, then stirred up a nice fire in the parlor, toasting the room. Hugh paused and dug into the logs. The feeling that he was being watched made him uncomfortable. He crouched by the fire, and his eyes darted around the room.

  He spun, the poker raised in his hands, just in time to see the outline of a man against the shadowy walls. He blinked, and the vision was gone, but the mural of the old sea captain pulled him closer. He inched up to it, drawn by the captain’s glare. Hugh leaned close, and the captain stared back in a feral snarl. How had he miss that? Why would the painter make such an unfriendly face on the character?

  They dark eyes glared back angrily, the bearded face taut with hatred. Hugh’s shoulders hunched with the same feeling that he was being watched from the opposite direction. He pivoted, and this time a gray fog wavered. Hugh gasped and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He fell into a winged chair, thinking he must be more exhausted than he realized.

  When he opened his eyes, on the edge of his vision, the air moved again. He heard light footsteps on the narrow staircase.

  He walked silently up the stairs brandishing a poker.

  “Rem,” he whispered cautiously. He climbed the steps slowly. Reaching the top, he peered into the half-opened room. Remy lay amid a fluffy white comforter, her head buried in the pillow, her small foot exposed.

  * * *

  Eli watched Hugh suspiciously as he approached the sleeping woman. While the poker was now down, he didn’t trust the young man. Winding up his fist, Eli was poised, ready to attack.

  Marum hovered overhead, prepared to interfere with Eli. Sten appeared from thin air. His hand stopped her. “Wait. It will be all right.”

  They watched raptly as Hugh lifted Remy’s foot, tucking it under the plump coverlet. She sighed prettily, her eyes opening, a satisfied smile on her face. Hugh tenderly brushed back the hair from her face.

  Eli skidded to a stop. Perhaps he had been too hasty with this human. He debated his next move, leaving it to them to decide for him.

  Remy held out her hand. Hugh leaned down and, wrapped her in an embrace. Remy lifted her face to his. Hugh kissed her sweetly, then again, and again.

  “I have to stop, or I won’t leave,” he told her, his cheek leaning against hers. “Go to sleep. I’ll watch over you.” He glanced around the room warily. “I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

  Eli’s face reddened. His skin tightened in embarrassment. He smacked the walls with his fists, creating small torrents of wind. That was what a real man was supposed to do. That is exactly what he didn’t do. He didn’t protect Henry, his ship, his crew members, his wife, or even his. . .there was more. He couldn’t protect. . .who else. . .who else had he failed? He evaporated with shame.

  * * *

  The house brightened after Hugh closed her door. He sat in the tiny living room, turning the chair away from the scowling captain. Pulling a stack of magazines from the study, he managed to catch up on all the crap of modern culture, from Bieber to the Kardashians. Not that he really cared. But it served as a mild diversion from the face on the wall. Either way, Hugh said to himself, he’d rather look at a serial killer than the scowling captain.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Off the coast of Puerto Rico, six days at sea, 1840

  His eyes had swelled shut, glued together from the salt. Not that it mattered. He was sun blind. He could barely make out things close to him. His jacket was gone, his shirt shredded into strips to tie him on to the roof of the afterhouse. It was all that remained of his ship. He had managed to grab some rope and secure the boy to the rocking wood. The roof floated on the water, he and Henry tied to the top. His skin felt like it had shrunk from too many washings. It pulled tightly across his back. The cabin boy still lived, but barely, no thanks to him.

  “Henry,” he called out, his voice a mere croak. “Henry, speak to me, lad.”

  The boy moaned, his head rolling on the wooden boards, his fingernails torn and bloody. If Eli didn’t get them some water soon, they were as good as dead. Dead as his bloody ship. Dead as his crew.

  Eli forced himself to raise his head. He untied his hand, cupping the warm seawater, to dash it across his face. The salty water burned his face as if his skin
was flayed. Cursing, he untied his ankles to crawl over to the boy. He nearly cried out from the pain of his burned skin. With shaking hands, he brushed back Henry’s matted curls. Henry’s cracked lips parted as he cried, his body too depleted to release tears.

  “We’re dead men, Cap’n. Let me go. Roll me into the water. I’m tired,” Henry pleaded.

  “No, no, Henry. We’ll get saved. I told you the afterhouse would keep us safe.”

  Eli looked down at the tourniquet he had created above the child’s knee. The wound had stopped bleeding. Maybe he should let the lad slip quietly under the water. What if they did manage to get rescued? What use was a twelve-year-old with one leg? It had snapped like weak kindling when the ship went down. He was near drained of blood by the time Eli reached him. Using his belt, he had tied it off.

  He dragged Henry to the center of the makeshift raft, keeping a steady watch for the pesky sharks that circled.

  “I’m done for,” the boy protested. “Let me go. Please let me go. Even if we get rescued, who will want me now? I’m tired. I’m so tired.”

  Eli barely slept. He touched the boy’s wrist, bound tight to broken timber. Loosening the knot, he glanced down at the pale face. Eli bit his raw knuckle with indecision. Should he let him slide away? Would it matter? He was not God, but a man. A man who promised to bring this boy home to his parents. He retied the rope, binding the boy to the flotsam.

  “I made a vow to bring you home. We have to get home to your parents, and I have to go back to my wife and children.”

  Henry didn’t respond. Eli panicked, his fingers probing the boy’s face. “Don’t leave me, Henry! I promised your mother. I promised Sarah.” His hands pulled the boy’s head up, the faint breaths assuring Eli the lad still lived. “Don’t leave me, boy. I made a promise. Stay with me here. Stay with me in the afterhouse.” He kept repeating the words long after he knew Henry couldn’t hear him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  2014

  At eleven, Hugh woke Remy because the police arrived, asking all kinds of questions. They left later, unsatisfied with her responses. All she was able to give them was the fact that it was a beige sedan. Paint from the other car was on her bumper as well. He helped her contact her insurance broker, then drove her over to the rental place. They parted reluctant ways after she got the keys to her rental car.

  “You didn’t have to stay. I feel like problems follow me like a shadow. All I am is work.” Remy touched his arm.

  Hugh shuffled his feet in the cold. “I love work. Truly, I don’t mind. You definitely feel better?”

  “Good as new. I really enjoyed our time together. I mean, except when I was unconscious.”

  “Yeah, I enjoyed it too. I’d like to see you again. Especially when you’re not unconscious.”

  “Well,” Remy said shyly, “do you want to take a chance being the rebound guy?”

  “I’m up for the challenge.” Hugh smiled back. “I’ll be back later. Try to rest.” He paused for a minute, cocking his head. “Remy, do you ever feel things in the house?”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, I don’t know—like someone’s in the house?”

  “Why? Did you see something?”

  Hugh’s face heated. “No, of course not. Maybe the old sea captain’s portrait spooked me.”

  “What, our captain? He may be intense, but I swear sometimes I think he’s smiling.”

  Hugh shivered. “Smiling?” He changed the subject. “I think his name was Elijah something. I’ll look him up.”

  “I’d love to have some information on him. Thanks.” Remy reached up to kiss him on the cheek, but Hugh turned, taking her into his arms. She felt warm, secure, and oddly safe. Their bulky parkas separated them, but their bodies locked together magnetically. The kiss deepened, and they found themselves breathing in tandem with each other. Hugh was sweating.

  “You have too many clothes on,” Remy said.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Hugh said, kissing her again. “When I’m with you, I feel like I’m. . .I don’t know. . .like whole.”

  “I’ve never done this with anybody,” she said.

  “I never felt about a woman like—” he said at the same time.

  “This is scaring me, Hugh. I want to take it slow.” Remy played with the fabric of the Burberry scarf he wore.

  Hugh lifted her against him, his smile wide. “Well, I don’t. Around here we like to keep traffic moving briskly. Look, Remy. This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve been married and divorced. I’ve had a few relationships, but when I saw you, it was like. . .I don’t know. . .pow!”

  Remy rested her head against his chest, listening to the reassuring thud of his heart. “I know, I know. I just don’t want to make another mistake. I don’t want to get hurt again.”

  Hugh pulled her face up. “I will never let anything bad happen to you. Ever.”

  “I’m a package deal, though. Are you prepared for that?”

  “Package deal?”

  “I come as a plus one, Hugh. I have a little girl.”

  “A bargain. Two-for-one special. I still wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Either of you.”

  * * *

  Eli sat frozen on the awning of the building, a tidal wave of a roar building in his barrel chest. He kicked the canvas with his booted foot, sending a small avalanche of snow onto Remy and Hugh’s unsuspecting heads. Remy squealed as they hurried farther down the street to brush off the icy flakes. Eli looked out to the sea, wishing he were in hell. Maybe he was.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Her dad was waiting at her door with a golden lab on a leash.

  “This here is Scout,” he informed his daughter as he led in her new watchdog. He was a giant brute with a sloppy pink tongue that left a trail of drool along her pristine wooden floors.

  “Dad!” Remy wailed, looking at the slimy ropes scalloped on the floor.

  “Remy!” Brian shouted, seeing her black eyes and bruised cheek. “Why didn’t you tell us you were that injured?”

  “Take him back, Dad. I don’t have the time to take care of a pet.”

  “Never mind. Let me look at your face.”

  He held her head tenderly in his large hands, turning it into better light, his face wincing.

  “This is bad.” He released her. “Scout is here to take care of you,” he told her while he unpacked a score of bags filled with dog food and other pet-related products.

  “A dog? Like I need this?”

  “It’s either Mom and me or the dog, Rem. Take your pick.”

  “You hate dogs. Where’d you get him?” Remy asked, bending to ruffle the yellow fur.

  “The pound. They said he was a good watchdog.”

  For years Remy had begged for a pet, but her parents had steadfastly refused. They were not animal people, her father told her. He was bitten as a child and had a hard time with big dogs. She knew it must have taken a major toll on her father to go to the pound and pick a dog.

  “Welcome home, Scout,” Remy replied, because she knew that was the end of that.

  Brian sat in her parlor, the ever-present newspaper in his hands, Scout at his feet, and a fire roared in the fireplace. Every so often, he bent down to pat the dog awkwardly on the head. Scout slavishly rolled his tongue on her dad’s wrist.

  “Huh, tickles.” He laughed. “Maybe I’ll keep your mother away for a while, Rem. She’s not going to take your face too well.”

  “Not a bad idea, Dad.” Remy winced as she drank down her tea. “Maybe you should take him home. Looks like you made a friend.”

  “Never mind, Remy. What did the police say?”

  “Since I didn’t see a license plate, they don’t have much to go on. They found beige paint on my car, and—”

  “What color is Scott’s car?” He looked at her over the newspaper, his glasses sliding down his big nose.

  “Don’t go there, Dad. Scott and I may have our differences, but he has no reason to do anything to me.”

>   “He has motive,” Brian said as he stood impatiently to pace the room. He stopped in front of the mural, considering the captain’s face.

  “His name, we think, is Elijah,” Remy said. “He doesn’t know much either.” She giggled. “What motives are you talking about? Scott has no motive. We aren’t together. You forgave the loan. Other than Livie, we have no cause to interact.”

  Brian turned, pointing his finger at her. “It’s no laughing matter, Remy. First you have a robbery, then they lob a Molotov cocktail at your studio. Who knows what’s in Scott’s head? He was a fool to leave you.” Scout raised his head and barked at his tone.

  “Ah, thanks, Dad. How did you know about the vandalism at the studio?”

  “You made the six o’clock news,” Brian said grimly.

  “I was going to tell you about it today.” Remy said, her face blushing.

  Brian returned a stern look.

  “Anyway, it was nothing really. They think it was kids.”

  Brian harrumphed.

  Remy continued as if he hadn’t.

  “My life with Scott is over. Really over. I’m building a new life. I’m a big girl. You have to let me grow up.”

  “Then you’re run off the road.” He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Why didn’t you call us to pick you up from the hospital?”

  “Hugh did.”

  “Who?”

  “Oh, this might become a problem. Not who, Hugh.”

  “The museum fella. How did that happen?”

  “It seems he’s the mayor, and he was on the scene, so he, well, he sort of watched over me.”

  Brian grunted, and his eyes narrowed. “What color is his car?”

  “Dad,” Remy shouted. “He’s the mayor.”

  “I didn’t know being a politician exempts a person from crime.” Brian grabbed his coat. Remy stood to help him get into it. “I just want you safe, Rem. You’re all we have.”

  “Ditto, Dad. I’m fine. I’m not stupid either. It’s just random happenings. Kids, a person with a few drinks. Who would want to hurt me?”