Resurrecting Harry

by Phillips, Constance

  Everyone she knew thought she was on a dead-end road: Will, Martin, and now Joseph. Even Erich had encouraged her to release the past and embrace a sketchy, foggy future. Not one of their opinions really mattered, though. Harry may not want her to wallow in pain, but his instructions had been clear, and it felt so wrong to push forward or even entertain a future with Erich until she fulfilled her obligations. Besides, Harry knew what it meant to chase a dream and wasn’t that what she was doing, following her heart back to him?

  One last conversation. The real good bye they’d been denied eleven months earlier.

  ***

  Erich slid his hands over the steering wheel and imagined he was cruising down some out-of-the-way road with Bess at his side and the wind blowing through the open windows. Reaching to the passenger side, he imagined his hand falling to her knee instead of the cool, leather seat he’d just finished cleaning. One more day and he could make his daydream a reality. He’d go into town the next morning and get what he needed to fix the brakes, and then he and Bess could start creating memories of their own.

  Memories that would make her see they could be happy together.

  Stepping out of the car, the strong licorice scent hit his senses reminding him he’d have to keep Bess away or cover it up somehow. If she found out he’d been dumping the tea behind the shed instead of drinking it, he’d soon know the chill of a New York winter again.

  As he walked toward the house, the offending odor faded and Bess’s cooking filtered through. He could almost taste the meal he knew she prepared with care and walked with a full stride. Only an uncomfortable twinge pinged in his side every so often, proving he was on the road to recovery and Joseph’s tea had little to do with it.

  In the kitchen, he resisted the urge to kiss Bess’s cheek and went straight to his report. “The car is almost done. All that’s left is the brakes. I’ll go into town for some fluid and pads in the morning. After that, I can take you for your first driving lesson.”

  Bess didn’t look at him, but reached to the back of the stove, picked up the salt shaker and sprinkled some into the pot. “Our arrangement called for you to do home maintenance. That automobile has stolen all of your attention for days.”

  Erich knew she’d reluctantly agreed to him working on the car, in part, to get out of the conversation, but he hadn’t realized she was this upset. “You told me I could work on it.”

  “I know, and I don’t want you to push yourself too hard too soon, but there is still a long list of repairs the house needs.” Her words might have been terse, but her voice was toneless.

  He rolled the events of the last day and a half through his mind. What had he done to deserve this icy reception? He stepped back and from the corner of his eye saw the box sitting by the back door. Inside was the Ouija board, several books and candles. “Did something happen in town?”

  She shook her head. “Dinner is ready. If you want to eat it hot, you’ll have to forgo your shower until afterward.”

  He acknowledged her with a single nod and washed his hands in the kitchen sink as she filled two bowls and took them to the table. He had no doubt she was lying. She hadn’t given him eye contact once, and her shoulders slouched as if they held the weight of the world. “Don’t shut me out. I thought we’d forged some kind of friendship here.”

  She pivoted back to the stove, taking the direction that kept her gaze away from him. “I’m just feeling melancholy, I guess.” Returning to the table with another mug of that god-awful tea, she took a seat and looked at him for the first time. “Come now, I didn’t fix this dinner for you to stand there and let it get cold.”

  He took his seat, still dumbfounded by her cool attitude. The stew looked good, but he couldn’t smell anything over the bitter tea and wrapped his hand around the mug, pushing it across the table.

  Her head jerked in his direction. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t need it anymore. I’m feeling much better.”

  “You feel better because it’s working. You promised me you’d follow all of Joseph’s instructions.”

  Frustration. Anger. Stress. He couldn’t put his finger on what was lacing her voice, but didn’t want to aggravate the situation any more. If it would lift this dark veil from her, he’d endure one more cup of tea. He closed his eyes tight as if that could ward off the taste assailing his tongue and swallowed. “I don’t like seeing you in such a mood. What’s wrong, Bess?”

  “Time. There’s never enough of it, but I’m under even more pressure than usual to prepare for the big show.”

  “The show,” he repeated in a whisper. Her only desire: for it to go off without a hitch. His only goal: to stop it cold. “Is there anything I can do to help?” The words slipped from his mouth. Stupid words! Helping was not stopping, it was the opposite, but he couldn’t contain himself.

  What kind of numbskull would offer to participate in his own demise?

  “Drink your tea so you can get well. Once you’re back to normal we can both move on with our lives.”

  So, that was it. She wanted him up and out so she could give all her attention to the séance. The thought of leaving here — getting well enough to walk away — tormented him, but it was worse than that. The séance would tear him from this life he’d relearned to cherish.

  Somehow in the last week, his life had developed meaning. He hadn’t expected that. Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want to die again, to give up his body and never feel a hot, summer breeze or cool, autumn rain. But it was more than that. The idea of never looking in her eyes again, never seeing her smile, or feeling her arms around him, as they had the night he’d kissed her, made his whole body ache.

  But it appeared that Harry spent their entire married life hurting her. Dying was just one of a long list of things he’d done to cut at her very soul. If she wanted him up and out, who was he not to oblige her? Maybe she’d at least smile at him as he walked away.

  He gripped the cup and lifted it to his lips, gulping the tea. From the moment Harry had laid eyes on Bess, her happiness had been first and foremost. No doubt, their life had been hard, but as he looked across the table at her now it wasn’t only grief that etched her features. Anger and bitterness loomed just below the surface. And he’d already wasted one third of his time trying to erase it, only to fail. Was that all their life had been to her? Pain? He needed to know that wasn’t true. “Tell me something happy, Bess.”

  She looked up at him as if he’d spoke in a foreign language she couldn’t comprehend. “Happy?”

  “We’re both being petulant. I thought maybe if we shared happy memories it would help pull us out of the funk.” Just tell me one thing you loved about your life with Harry.

  She kept her eyes down as if she were studying the meat and vegetables in her bowl. In that moment of complete silence, Erich watched a wide variety of emotions pass over her face. A moment later, she said, “There were so many happy moments. Time we spent on trains, segregated from the rest of the world. Or holidays, the house bustled with family. I think my favorite memory happened just after we bought this house, though. We’d finished dinner and decided to take a walk and enjoy the night air. We became so engrossed in our conversation that we’d walked a dozen or more blocks without even noticing how far we’d gone. Then, it began to rain, an unexpected summer downpour.”

  The memory she sparked was so real to him he could feel her body tight to his as Harry pulled her close. Once again, it was as if the soaking wet clothes hung from his frame, and he could smell her perfume and taste her sweet lips as they’d stopped running and came together in laughter.

  The memory brought forth a chuckle, and her warm eyes met his. “We ran together, holding hands, for three blocks or so, but realizing our clothes were soaked and there was no getting around that, we went back to a nice stroll. It was a warm mid-summer rain, and it just washed away all the craziness of our normal routine. For those brief moments, I felt like he wasn’t focused on work. For that on
e evening in the rain, it was just Harry and me.”

  Her recount of that day was all he needed to hear to remember why he’d chosen this over an afterlife. Saving Bess from self-destruction and relighting the spark of hope in her was the only choice he could make. “That’s a beautiful story, Bess. Wonderful.”

  “Now it’s your turn.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “To share. You said we should share stories. You’ve told me so little about your past.”

  What could he share? His only memories were Harry’s, and she’d surely recognize them as such. Maybe if he kept it benign they wouldn’t offend the terms of his bargain or upset Jaden. “I think my happiest moment was on a train, with the love of my life. We couldn’t afford a compartment and were traveling across country. For several days we sat close, arm in arm, but one evening in particular her head lay on my shoulder while she slept. She trusted me to keep her safe and provided for even though we rarely knew where the next meal was coming from.”

  “When you love someone, it’s easy to trust. Not being alone in the world is enough to make you feel invincible, I think.”

  He could see tears making her eyes glossy and wondered if she’d found her version of that very memory in the recesses of her mind. “I’d give anything to have those days back.”

  She averted her eyes. Her hand shook as she lifted her spoon to her mouth. Did his story hit too close to home? As well, it should. “How? How did she die?” Her voice rattled the same as the spoon.

  He’d told her before that death separated him from his love, and it wasn’t a lie. Of course, Bess assumed that he’d had a spouse or lover pass away, not that he himself had experienced death and a rebirth of sorts. But how to answer her direct question? He had no choice but to lie. Jaden wouldn’t allow the truth to pass through his lips. Unless, of course, he veiled it. “An illness. The doctors were useless. That’s probably why I don’t have much use for them.”

  “That’s the way it happens sometimes. No matter what you do to help or how hard you pray, the fates have another idea all their own, and we are helpless to stop it.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  She shook her head. “But sometimes telling myself that eases the pain. You loved her?”

  “With all my heart. We had so many dreams for a home, family and life of our own. You mentioned fate, well, I guess it had a different plan than my lady and I did.” He’d tried hard to keep emotion out of his voice, but couldn’t stop it from cracking. He only had to look at Bess to know he’d opened up yet another wound for her.

  “And now?”

  “There’s a piece of this worn and tired soul that will always be hers.”

  “Worn and tired?” she quipped. “You’re still quite the young man.”

  “For all that I’ve seen, it’s as if I’ve lived twice as long as you’d think.” He chose his words with care, staying as true to facts as he could without twirling her into the altered reality or angering his keeper.

  Bess picked up the linen napkin from her lap and wiped her mouth, though it was obvious to Erich she was trying to stifle the tears. “Look at the two of us, supposed to be cheering each other up with happy stories, and all we can do is cry in our stew.”

  A chuckle boiled up from deep inside. “I guess we are a pathetic pair. But I hope my story shows you I know a little more of your pain than you realized.”

  “It has.”

  Erich pushed the bowl aside. “The meal was very good. Give me another moment, and I will clear the dishes away.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. You’ll sit there and finish your tea.” She stood and began gathering the bowls and silverware in her arms.

  With an obedient nod, Erich brought the cup to his lips, swallowing the remainder, hoping it would drown the grief. Hoping the new mutual connection would be a bridge to better things. The pungent flavor balled up and closed his throat, bringing on a coughing fit. A moment later, it passed and he shifted his weight. “Would you like to play cards in a bit?”

  “That would be lovely,” she said.

  He watched Bess busy herself with the dishes. Determined to give her a hand, he started to stand, but the room spun away from him. He gripped the edge of the table and called out her name as his vision faded white.

  “What is it?”

  He heard her long, flowing skirt bustle around her legs. She was moving toward him, but he only saw a blur behind white clouds.

  Her voice screeched. “Oh my goodness, Erich, what is it?”

  “I feel…” His knees buckled, and Bess’s arm came around him.

  “Come on, let’s lie you down.”

  His heart thumped against his chest, and he heard ringing in his ears. Life, once again, slipped from him. Had he given away too much? Angered Jaden for the last time?

  Erich blindly reached out. His fingers finding the cotton of Bess’s blouse, he gripped it tight and pulled her close. He wouldn’t allow her to believe that Harry had abandoned her. When he could feel the warmth of her caress to his cheek and smell her rose scented perfume, he dug deep and whispered. “Forgive, Bess, and believe.”

  “Believe what, Erich? What are you trying to say?” She tried to pull from him, but he held her. He tried to meet her eyes, but everything was fuzzy and white. He could hear the tremble in her voice, knew the words he’d said had thrown her off balance, but he’d only just begun.

  “Harry… Roseabell…answer…tell…pray…answer.” His hand slipped from her dress, and his head rolled to the side. The ringing in his ears had subsided and overwhelming weakness had quieted his racing heart.

  “Is there more, Erich? Is Harry saying more?”

  With slow steady movements he slid his hand up her stomach and rested it between her breasts. “Look…tell…answer…answer.” The last word passed through his lips, and consciousness drifted away.

  The code.

  Erich had just recited the message Harry had promised to send from beyond the grave. “Are you still here, Harry?” She called to the empty room. “Say something else. Anything else!”

  Bess braced her hands on either side of Erich’s face and put her cheek down near his mouth. He was still breathing. “Don’t you do this, Erich! Don’t die on me.”

  Feeling the warmth against her flesh, however shallow, she laid a hand to his forehead. It was cool. He looked peaceful.

  Emotions knotted in her chest. Harry had used Erich to speak to her alone, just like she’d pleaded and prayed. Was he still with her now? Death had never taken away the feeling that he still walked by her side. She’d been even more aware of him — or lack of his presence — since bumping into Erich on the street. There was a connection between the two men that went beyond the thirst for adventure and the hunger for the limelight.

  Erich. She had to get him help. On her feet, she grabbed the phone and dialed Martin’s number. She’d have called Joseph, but had no idea how to get a hold of him since he’d left the Cooper estate. Maybe Martin did have an agenda when it came to Harry’s memory, but Erich needed medical treatment. When Martin’s voice hit her ears, she said, “Please, I need your help.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The spinning slowed, but white haze still clouded Erich’s vision. He pushed and clawed like a drowning man fighting his way to the surface, until he saw Jaden. He had drawn Erich into yet another dream state. Or had he lost the bet and was now sentenced to the cold, wet ground for an eternity?

  Jaden tightened the long, leather coat and pushed his soaked hair over his shoulder. Only then did Erich realize the rain and where they stood. It was the very street corner from Bess’s memory — where they’d given up on outrunning the storm and melted into each other’s embrace. Warm water and the clean, fresh scent of summer assailed Erich’s senses. He tilted his head up and let the drops splatter his face, clearing the fog. “What did I do wrong this time?”

  “Quite the contrary. You’ve made your first and only important breakthrough.”

/>   Erich rubbed the back of his neck then leveled his eyes back to his mentor. “Then why are we here?”

  “For Bess.”

  “And the rain? Is that for her too?”

  Jaden stood firm, his legs at shoulder’s width and his hands clasped at his waist. “Every last bit of this has been for her alone. Never for you. Tonight, for the first time, you understood that.”

  Erich pursed his lips. Despite Jaden’s claim, he didn’t understand. “Then why pull me away?”

  “There are forces working against you. You are even more of a nuisance to them now than before. You threaten their plans. Your delivery of the coded message will stand in the way.”

  Of course. Giving Bess her message eliminated the need for a séance. He’d accomplished the goal. But with no show, there would be no spotlight for Gail. And when she was upset, Martin became a son-of-a-bitch. “Bess wanted Harry’s words. It never mattered where they came from.”

  “Yes, but it’s not just the words. It’s the reason you said them. For the first time since all of this began your actions were selfless. You whispered them for Bess alone, for her peace of mind and to ease her heart.” A proud smile — something Erich hadn’t seen until this moment — crossed Jaden’s lips, and his eyes twinkled. “Love, betrayal, comfort and revenge. So much is swirling around you and Bess. You’ve become unwilling participants in a scheme that has grown larger than it had ever intended. In the name of retribution, you were meant to stop breathing tonight, but nothing is going to mess with my plan.”

  Jaden reached for his forehead, but Erich stopped him. “Is it Martin? Did that bastard try to kill me?”

  “The players are many.” With those final words the large man pushed his hand past Erich’s, and as the fingers touched his forehead, he fell into his body once more, cold and clammy against the kitchen floor. He fought for consciousness, pulling himself back from a murky cloud.