by Deanna Chase
After all, it would be better to end things here and now before her heart got any more involved. Then, if the guy thought she had a screw loose, good riddance.
She took a deep breath and began. "It was the first day I'd met my friend Maddy-"
"Where was this?"
"Our family hardware store."
Jon-Luc chuckled. "No, I mean, where were you living at the time?"
"Oh, Isabelle Island. It's one of the San Juan Islands off the coast of Washington. Very small. In fact you have to take a ferry to get there from the mainland."
"Is it pretty?"
"Actually, yes. My family's home is right on the water. I didn't appreciate it at the time, because I grew up there. But there's lots of redwoods, ferns, pine trees, very green. It rains a lot, you know."
"Ha, so they say. I've also heard Washington State is the suicide capital of the world because of all the rain."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. But I think it sounds beautiful. You must take me someday."
"Only if you take me to New Orleans first."
"Deal." They shook hands.
Angie smiled and ran her hand down the hair on his stomach.
Jon-Luc covered her hand with his to stay its progress before it slipped beneath the sheet. "Hey, don't distract me." His voice sounded husky.
"In fact, Maddy's the reason I'm here in Paris. She convinced me to follow my dream."
"Remind me to thank her. Without her, I never would have met you."
Angie stole a quick glance at his face and found him smiling down at her. "I hope you still think that when I'm done telling this story."
She laid her head back down on his chest and Jon-Luc stroked her back. "Relax, I'm here."
"Yeah, now."
"Look, it takes a lot to shock me. Remember, I'm from New Orleans. I grew up around Voodoo, ghosts, and tales of things that go bump in the night."
"Does that mean you've seen a ghost?" Hope filled her heart and she looked up.
"Maybe." His face was hard to read. "Now out with it."
"Okay, we were stripping the wallpaper from her great aunt's walls and preparing them to paint."
"So she hired you to help her," Jon-Luc interrupted.
"Not exactly. I kinda volunteered. She'd come into our hardware store earlier in the day and bought all the painting supplies. I liked her immediately and was bored spitless. So I offered to help. There's just so much counting nuts and bolts a person can take."
Jon-Luc chuckled. "I imagine it could get tiresome."
"You can say that again." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway, so we'd spent the day together, bonding you might say. Then she told me about the problem she was having with the house."
"What sort of problem?" Jon-Luc asked.
"All kinds of stuff like things moving around by themselves. A door she'd taken down appeared re-hung. Whispers in the night when she was home alone."
"That's some spooky stuff." Jon-Luc stroked her hair and it felt so good she closed her eyes.
"Like I said before, I'd been watching shows for years about ghosts and I wanted to see one myself. So I suggested we have a séance."
"And she was willing?"
"Not exactly. I kinda forced the issue."
"No. You?" At the sarcasm in his voice, Angie looked up and saw him grinning.
"Hey!" She pinched his stomach.
"Ouch." Jon-Luc grabbed her hand.
"Oh, stop yourself. That didn't hurt."
"If you say so." Jon-Luc threaded his hand through hers. "Come on now, quit stalling."
Angie took a deep breath and relaxed. "Okay. We were in the living room, in front of the fireplace facing each other and holding hands. Then I said, ‘we are addressing the spirits that live in this house, tell us why you're here’."
"My God woman, you have balls. Weren't you scared?"
"No, I was excited. I wanted to see a ghost and here was my chance."
"Damn, but you're fearless."
"Or stupid. Those shows should come with a warning: kids don't try this at home." Angie looked up at Jon-Luc. "Do you want to hear this or not?"
"Hell yeah. Go on."
"Okay, then stop interrupting me."
"Sorry. My lips are sealed." He mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key.
"Keep them that way." Angie relaxed her head again.
"At first nothing happened, so this time I shouted, ‘we are addressing the spirits that live in this house. Show us a sign’.
Then the fire in the hearth threw huge flames toward us, knocking down the screen. We screamed and jumped out of the way. The doors all over the house slammed one at a time. Then it was quiet again. So I yelled, ‘tell us why you're here’."
"After all that, you kept provoking them? Don't you have a lick of sense?"
Angie's head shot up. "You mean you believe me?"
"Of course." His eyebrows knitted together, as if to say, why not?
Angie sighed. "I was afraid the next thing out of your mouth would be adios."
He chuckled and lifted her up to kiss her, then pulled back and looked her in the eye. "You're a kook, you know that?" He settled her down in the crook between his shoulder and neck.
"I've been called many things, but kook isn't one of them."
"Well, you are and I kind of like that about you."
Angie smiled.
"Is there more to this story?"
"Oh, yeah."
"Then get on with it. I'm on pins and needles."
"Right." Angie snuggled closer and Jon-Luc started tracing figure eights on her arm. She couldn't remember when she'd been happier or felt more content.
"So after I asked what they wanted, a lamp sailed across the room and smashed against the wall. A book flew right at my head. If I hadn't ducked, it would have clocked me. Maddy screamed and I looked over, her hair was flying. She said someone had yanked it. Then all hell broke loose. If it wasn't nailed down, it was airborne. The house went crazy.
"When we reached the front door, it wouldn't budge. As if it was locked. We ran toward the back of the house, bobbing and weaving the entire way lest we get hit by flying debris. Furniture scooted across the hardwood floor in our path. The doors on the china cabinet opened and slammed shut. Cups and saucers smashed against the walls."
"It's a wonder you escaped alive."
"No shit. When we ran through the kitchen, the pots and pans were spinning around like a tornado. I got to the back door first and grabbed the handle. I screamed, instantly letting go. I stared at my hand and watched as blisters appeared before my very eyes.
"I didn't know what else to do, so I started yelling the Lord’s Prayer and Maddy joined me. I don't know how many times we said it, but finally all the madness stopped and we heard the front door pop open. We ran like hell for the door as if the devil himself were chasing us.
"We jumped in my Jeep. I couldn't drive because of my hand and it had a stick shift, so Maddy had to do it. Sometime during the chaos, Maddy's arm was badly cut and she was bleeding like a stuck pig. I tied a bandana around her arm to stanch the blood, then we hightailed it out of there."
"Phew, what a story. You girls were lucky you weren't hurt worse. Did your friend need stitches?"
"Oh, yeah, a bunch.”
"Did you ever go back?" Jon-Luc asked.
"Huh uh, not me."
"You mean your friend did?"
"Yeah, she thought the house would be safe because everything stopped after we said the Lord’s Prayer. Boy, was she wrong."
"How is she now?"
"She's great, now."
"You mean she was hurt further?"
"Yes. But there's too much. I mean, I can't go through it all right now." Angie scooted away and got out of bed, heading toward the bathroom. "I'm thirsty."
Angie closed the bathroom door and leaned against it. She felt drained. Reliving that scene brought back the fear. The horror she'd lived not only that night, buy after wondering whether Maddy
would live or die. Her eyes filled with tears and she swatted them away.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror.
"It's over, you idiot. Everyone survived." She ran cold water in the sink and splashed her face.
21
Angie had been in the bathroom a while, and Jon-Luc began to get concerned. He glanced over to the corner where he'd spied a small refrigerator earlier and slipped out of bed to check it out. When he opened the door, it was filled with bottles of water and soda pop. He snatched two waters, then made his way to the bathroom door and knocked.
"You okay in there, chere?"
"I'll be out in a minute," Angie called back.
Jon-Luc set one of the bottles on the nightstand and climbed into bed. He fluffed a couple of pillows, sat back and twisted the cap off his water. He'd downed almost half before the door opened. Looking sheepish, Angie strode across the room and snuck into bed next to him. He handed her the water.
"Thanks. Where did you get this?" Angie said.
He pointed. "Over there. It's a fridge, even though it looks like a piece of antique furniture."
"What will they think of next?" Angie opened her water and took a sip. She seemed to be reflecting, then turned toward him and said, “You mentioned you wanted to talk to me in private. Was that just an excuse to get me alone so you could seduce me?” She grinned at him playfully.
“Ha ha, very funny. Yes, I did want to speak with you without being overheard. If you can help it, I’d appreciate it if you would do all you can not to be alone with either Demetrius or Michael until we can cross them off our suspect list.”
Her brows raised. “Seriously? You honestly think one of them could be the killer?”
“I’d rather not take any chances.”
“I’m sorry, but I just don’t see it. I know Demetrius is a bit strange, but Michael? Come on, they don’t come any sweeter.”
“Hey, I resemble that remark.”
Angie chuckled. “Present company excluded.”
“That’s better.” He grabbed her chin with his hand. “Now promise me.”
Her eyes widened. “Okay, I promise,” she said in a soft voice.
Angie took another sip, then eyed Jon-Luc.
"Your turn. I want to hear your ghost story." She set the bottle aside and smoothed the sheets like she was settling in for a good yarn.
Jon-Luc hesitated. Could he honestly tell her the truth without freaking her out? "I don't have any tales like the one you told me."
She chuckled. "I should hope not. Those things don't happen on a regular basis."
"Well…" He looked away.
"Well, what? Finish the thought." She bumped him with her elbow.
"I do have a friend who's witnessed such things on a few occasions."
"Really?"
"Yeah. He is a ghost hunter like the ones you watch on TV, except the things he sees are real. Not made up for Hollywood."
"I'll have you know those shows are real."
"If you say so." He couldn't help but smile at her naïveté.
"I do."
"All-righty then. He prefers the term Paranormal Investigator. He's actually pretty well known in certain circles."
"Oh, yeah? What's his name?" she challenged.
"Jake Spaulding."
She shook her head. "Never heard of him."
"That's a good thing. He only gets involved with the most extreme cases. Cases where people have tried everything else and failed. He's a demonologist. Have you ever heard of Ed and Lorraine Warren?"
"Of course, who hasn't?"
Jon-Luc chuckled at her know-it-all attitude. "He interned with them at the New England Society for Psychic Research. He has the gift of telepathy."
"Way cool. Can I meet him? I bet he has some great stories." She looked like a little kid on her birthday.
Jon-Luc thought he'd hit the jackpot. Not only would Angie be able to handle his secret, she'd probably think it was way cool. "Maybe. Someday. I don't get to see him myself as much as I'd like. He lives in Texas."
Her face fell. "Oh."
Jon-Luc pulled her down until she laid across his lap staring up at him, and stroked her hair.
She looked so forlorn. "I'll see what I can do," he said.
"Okay."
"Besides, we're both a little busy at the moment," Jon-Luc added.
"I didn't mean today." She rolled her eyes at him.
"I actually have a confession to make." He watched her face carefully.
"Crap, you're married, aren't you?" Her lips set in a grim line.
"No, I—"
She scrunched up her face. "You're living with someone?"
He chuckled. "No."
"Unless you're a damn good actor, I know you're not gay."
"Ha! No, I'm certainly not gay."
"I'm at a loss then. What could you possibly confess that would be a deal breaker? Are you a mad rapist or a serial killer?"
"If I was, do you think I'd tell you?"
"Good point. Do you leave the toilet seat up?"
He cocked an eyebrow. "That's a deal breaker for you?"
"I would have to give it some serious thought."
"Then the answer is no, I don't leave the toilet seat up."
"Phew. That's a relief, because that really grosses me out." Angie fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Okay, I give. What is it?"
"Are you sure you're ready to hear it? You don't have any other guesses now, do you?"
She tweaked his nipple lightly. "Smart ass."
"Hey!" He snatched her hand and lowered it to his lap keeping it hostage.
"Okay, I'm ready. Lay it on me."
He stared down into her serious face and suddenly felt overwhelmed. He stroked her cheek with his knuckle.
"God, you're beautiful. I think I'm falling seriously in like with you."
"Come on. Don't change the subject. Just rip off the band-aid. I'm tough, I can take it." She folded her arms across her bare breasts.
The silence that engulfed them was deafening.
He couldn't look at her expectant face any longer, so he focused on the mirror across the room and saw himself looking back.
"I'm clairvoyant." When she didn't say anything, he tilted his head down and searched her face.
"You mean you can read people’s minds?"
"No, that's telepathic. I see dead people."
"Like the kid in the movie The Sixth Sense?"
"I don't know, I've never seen the movie."
"You've never seen The Sixth Sense? What's wrong with you?"
Jon-Luc burst into gales of laughter he could not control. He'd been so damn nervous to tell her about himself. Instead of being horrified, she was upset he hadn't seen a stupid movie. His laughter approached hysterics as he released all the pent up anxiety he'd felt. Once he'd gotten himself under control, he dried his eyes, snatched her up and kissed her.
He ended the kiss and grinned down at her. "Woman, you are priceless."
"I'm glad you think so, 'cause I'm not so sure about you at the moment. That's one of my favorite movies and the fact you've never seen it says a lot about your character."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, we'll rent it and watch it together."
"Okay. But the jury's still out on you, buster. ‘Cause if you don't like it, I may have to do some serious thinking about this relationship."
She looked so serious, he kissed her nose.
"Duly noted."
He let her lie back down on his lap.
"All right." She nodded her head once.
"Don't you have any questions about what I just told you?"
"The whole seeing ghosts thing?"
Jon-Luc marveled at how normal she made it sound.
"Yeah. That."
"Okay, if you can see ghosts, why don't they just tell you who killed them? Seems easy enough to me."
"That would make my life a lot simpler, yes. Unfortunately, the spirits I see don't talk. They've recently p
assed, and haven't learned to use the energy around them to be heard when they speak, or to stay visible. Most of the time, they don't even know they're dead."
Her brows arched. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Then what good is it to see them?"
"For the longest time I wondered the same thing. Then I met a man who taught me how to decipher their clues. Once I figured out how to do that, I could learn what unfinished business they had and send them on their way."
"To the white light?"
"Yes, chere, to the white light."
She stroked his cheek with her open hand. "That's amazing."
"I'm glad you think so."
"How old were you when you saw your first ghost?"
"Five, maybe? My grandmother came to kiss me goodbye after she passed."
"Did that scare you?"
"Not at all. I thought it was a dream at the time."
"I wish my father came to kiss me goodbye after he passed," Angie said quietly.
"When did he die?"
"About ten years ago."
"I'm sorry, chere." Jon-Luc stroked her hair.
"Thanks. I still miss him. How old were you when you realized you were seeing a dead person?"
"Ten. My friend David got hit by a car. He showed up in my bedroom the night he died. I didn't understand. He was all bloody and just stood there staring at me. He wouldn't answer me when I asked him what happened. I ran to get my mother to help him, but when we returned he was gone."
"That must have scared the shit out of you."
"It shook me up pretty bad. My mother sat me on the bed and told me I couldn't have seen him. That David was in the hospital, he'd had an accident that day, so there was no way he could have been in my room. I argued with her. I told her he was in my room, but she just shook her head and told me not to repeat the story again. She seemed mad."
"Man, that's rough. I'm sorry she didn't believe you."
"I found out at school the next day that he'd died."
"Did you run home to tell your mother?"
"No, because I figured at that point she was right. I couldn't have seen him."
"How long before you realized that wasn't a fluke?"
"Sometime later that year. I was walking to school and this lady appeared in front of me. Half her face was burnt to a crisp. Now that scared the shit out of me."