Chasing Happy

by Jenni M. Rose

  “She’ll believe you,” Max had said.

  Rosie turned her head to find Wendy staring at her.

  “You look like you have something to say. I’m waiting to argue.”

  Rosie shook her head. “No arguments. I just,” she nearly hesitated but persisted. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  Wendy leaned back like she was settling in and had all the time in the world. “Okay.”

  Rosie went back and forth in her mind about how to tell Wendy the truth. Did she tell her about her grandmother first or did she start with her abnormal senses?

  “I don’t know where to start,” she admitted.

  “The beginning’s fine.”

  “That would be too much,” she told her. “Do you want to hear the part that has to do with you or the part that has to do with me?”

  “Uh, me, obviously,” Wendy laughed.

  That helped. “There’s a little more to the story about when I found out Lisa was stealing.”

  Wendy sat up.

  “I didn’t just find out through an invoice. I mean, I proved it that way, but there was someone else that knew. Someone else that told me.”

  “Someone else knew? One of the other girls?” Wendy fumed.

  “No, no one else in the office knew. It was someone else. She kept coming to me and telling me every detail, even when I kept telling her to stop.”

  “Who-”

  “I tried ignoring her but, my God, the woman is persistent. She wouldn’t leave me alone.”

  “Who was it?”

  Rosie took a deep breath and looked Wendy square in those eyes that were so much like Max’s.

  “Your grandmother.”

  Wendy’s head reared back. “My-” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  “She used to walk around the jobs in this hideous pink skirt set with a clipboard, making sure everyone was doing their jobs.”

  “My grandmother’s dead.”

  Rosie nodded. “I know.”

  “You saw her?”

  “I did. A lot actually.”

  “You see dead people?” Her voice was flat and Rosie worried she’d made a mistake.

  “It’s something I was born with. I’ve been doing it all my life. I don’t mean to. I mean, I wish I didn’t. Some people, like your grandmother, have no boundaries. She would show up here in the middle of the night and yell at me for not telling you. She’d follow me around the jobs telling me I was an awful person for not being truthful with you.”

  “You see dead people,” Wendy repeated. “You see my grandmother.”

  “To be fair, I haven’t seen her since I told you about Lisa.”

  “Where’d she go? Did she like, cross over?”

  “I’m not really sure where she went.”

  Rosie didn’t say anything else and just let Wendy sit and think on it for a while. Every now and then she’d raise her finger and open her mouth like she was going to say something but then never did. Rosie looked out over the yard and saw Hannah, laying in a beam of sunlight in the clearing.

  She pointed and turned to Wendy. “See those trees over there? And that ray of sunshine on the ground?”

  “Yeah,” she sat up and looked.

  “Your brother’s dog, Hannah, is sleeping there.”

  “Hannah?” Her head spun to stare at Rosie. “She’s here.”

  Rosie nodded. “Hannah’s one of the only spirits I can see right now.” She looked back at the dog. “Actually, it’s strange she’s here. She usually stays close to Max.”

  “Does Max…know about this?”

  Rosie nodded. “He’s like your grandmother. Really persistent.”

  Wendy put her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands. “This is crazy. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah,” Rosie agreed quietly. “I know. It’s okay if you don’t believe me.”

  Wendy shot her an angry look. “Of course, I believe you, you idiot. I just can’t believe it, you know.” Rosie was confused and it must have showed on her face because Wendy continued. “I believe you. I do. It’s just hard to take in.”

  “There’s more.”

  Wendy sat, watchful and so much like Max, while Rosie explained her bike accident and the woman in the woods. She told her about the events at Smith’s Cove and how she couldn’t really see spirits other than the woman and Hannah. She didn’t get into auras or psychic dreams, it seemed extraneous.

  Wendy asked some good questions about trying to identify the woman and offered to go to the cove when they made the trip.

  “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow,” she admitted. “I don’t know what it’s going to be like so I can’t say if you’d want to come or not.”

  “Well, if you’re there, and Max and Dallas are there, then I want be there too.”

  Rosie shook her head. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to find you. You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

  “I do.” Wendy stood. “Now get changed. You can’t go to Thanksgiving smelling like burnt Pop Tarts.”

  “My parents moved into this place a few years ago,” Wendy told her when they pulled up to a classic Florida ranch style home, nestled in a neatly groomed neighborhood.

  “Are you sure they won’t mind when I show up?”

  Wendy laughed. “For the millionth time, they know you’re coming.” She pulled into the driveway and parked. “Come on.”

  She led the way to a side door and walked right in.

  “Mom?” Wendy called into the house.

  Rosie followed her through the door and into a kitchen. She could smell the food cooking, a sign of the impending holiday dinner.

  “I’m in the dining room setting the table.” The voice came from another room.

  Rosie took a few steps into the house and Wendy shut the door behind her. The kitchen was a good size with dark cabinets and black granite countertops. It was obviously a kitchen built for someone who enjoyed cooking, fancy appliances and neat gadgets everywhere. There were vegetables on the counters and other ingredients strewn about.

  Wendy’s mom bustled into the kitchen, a smile on her face. She was tall, like Wendy, but her hair was black and very short. She was wearing stylish skinny jeans and what looked like a designer, casual sweatshirt. Her face lit up when she saw her daughter.

  “I’m so glad you’re here!” She rushed over and pulled Wendy into a hug. “We have so much work to do.”

  Then she turned to Rosie. “You must be Rosie.” Her smile was so genuine and real, like she was truly happy Rosie was there.

  “Hi,” Rosie said quietly holding out her hand.

  Mrs. Murphy stopped short, the smile freezing on her face as she looked between Rosie’s face and hand.

  Wendy interrupted and whispered loudly, “Mom’s a hugger. You’ve stumped her.”

  Rosie kept her hand out, which Mrs. Murphy eventually took.

  “Thank you for having me.”

  “Oh, please,” the woman waved her off. “I love having company for the holidays. Thanks for coming.” She grabbed Rosie by the shoulders and inspected her face, particularly her eyes. “My word, that’s incredible.”

  “Mom,” Wendy protested. “Let’s not freak her out the first minute she’s here.”

  She looked at her daughter. “What? What am I doing?”

  “You’re staring intensely in her eyes like a psycho. I already told you she likes to keep to herself.”

  She’d told her mother that?

  “She’s keeping to herself,” the woman argued, but still let go of Rosie’s shoulders and took a step back. “Sorry. I’m a people person.” Then she turned to the kitchen and pointed in all different directions. “Potatoes need peeling and boiling. Sweet potatoes need the same. The veggies for the stuffing need to be chopped…”

  She went on and on, dish after dish, leaving Rosie’s mouth hanging open. She didn’t know how to do any of that stuff. Well, she could peel a potato but the rest there was no way.
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br />   “You look lost,” Mrs. Murphy laughed. She noticed Wendy was already tying on an apron.

  “I don’t know how to cook,” she admitted.

  “Rosie just about burned her place down today making a Pop Tart,” Wendy laughed.

  “Pop Tarts?” Mrs. Murphy made a disgusted face. “You shouldn’t eat those things. Who knows what’s in them.”

  “Brown sugar and cinnamon,” Rosie told her. “S’mores.”

  “Ashes if Rosie’s making it,” Wendy joked even making Rosie laugh.

  “I can help peel, I think.”

  “You think?” Wendy sounded dubious.

  “If someone shows me how,” she hedged.

  “We’ll find something for you,” Mrs. Murphy promised. “We’ll start with potatoes.”

  Two hours later, Rosie was in charged with putting cookies on a platter for dessert. Also, filling the little cream holder and sugar for coffee. She had band aids on her fingers from that stupid peeler and one more one from a can of green beans. She felt like an idiot. Wendy and her mom had been kind, if not a little bewildered at her ineptitude, and had helped her find something to keep her busy.

  She’d finished setting the table as instructed. She’d filled pickle dishes. And now, she was organizing cookies.

  “I think our intrepid hunters have returned,” Mrs. ‘Call-Me-Christine’ said, leaning forward on her tiptoes to look out the window above the sink.

  Rosie was nervous about what Max would say when he showed up. She’d refused him numerous times when he invited her to dinner but yet, here she was. She hoped he wouldn’t be upset she came.

  Without turning around, she continued setting out dessert even as she heard the door open and what sounded like a herd of elephants pile through the door.

  “Hi!” Christine chirped. “How’d it go?”

  “It was great!” That was a voice she’d never heard so she assumed it was Mr. Murphy. “Dallas shot at one,”

  “But I missed,” Dallas’s voice cut in. He didn’t sound upset that he hadn’t hit his target.

  “Hi!” Mrs. Murphy threw out greetings as the sound of rustling and shuffling filled the room.

  “Well lookee here,” Dallas sang.

  “Yeah,” Wendy growled and a slapping noise sounded in the room. “Hands off, Hunter.”

  “Go wash up,” Christine sang.

  Finally, she heard Max’s voice. “Now this is a nice surprise.”

  Then he was sliding his arms around her from behind and nuzzling her neck. Her cheeks heated, acutely aware of the silence in the room.

  “I thought you weren’t coming.”

  She shrugged, unable to hold in a sigh when he kissed behind her ear.

  “I asked you a million times.”

  “You asked?” Wendy laughed. “I didn’t ask her to come. I just went to her camper and told her she was coming.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “She was about to burn the joint down when I showed up at her place so we’re saving her from starving to death anyway.”

  Max held up her hand, inspecting it. “What’s going on here?”

  She opened her mouth to explain but Wendy cut her off. “The first three were peeling potatoes. The fourth is from opening a can of green beans. She literally cut herself opening a can. She’s like an accident waiting to happen.”

  “I told you I don’t know how to cook,” Rosie shot back, still held in Max’s arms.

  He laughed and kissed the back of her head.

  “Time to go wash up, Max. I don’t want any more mud in the house.”

  “I’ll be right back.” His hand pressed against her cheek and forced her to look his way so he could press a kiss to her lips, his tongue sweeping across her bottom lip.

  He was smiling when he pulled back. “Rosie’s been eating cookies.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You tattle-tail!”

  He kissed her one more time before he walked out of the room.

  “Now you’re the one feeling the feelings!” Wendy exclaimed. “I knew something was going on with you two!”

  Christine waved her off with a laugh. “Where’ve you been? Max told me weeks ago.”

  Wendy released a put out sigh. “I’m always the last to know. I should have known when you started acting like you didn’t hate him. That’s a sure sign of love.”

  “Wendy!” Christine sounded appalled.

  “Okay,” she conceded quickly. “But at least admit to feeling the feelings!”

  Rosie lifted a shoulder and tried to hide a smile as she turned back around. “There may be some feelings,” she hedged.

  Wendy made a loud ‘pfft’ sound and Christine laughed under her breath. Okay, so they knew she was lying. She was most definitely, feeling the feelings. She was fighting the feelings at every turn and frankly, she was worried if she didn’t control herself, she’d fall head over heels for Max.

  It seemed like it would be a good thing, but for her it screamed impending disaster. For her, loving someone was a sure sign they were about to leave her.

  Or betray her.

  She knew it was crazy, but she couldn’t help feel that if she just didn’t love Max, if she didn’t let herself go that far, then things would be okay.

  She went back to her cookie platter and coffee tray as Wendy and Christine plated dinner. Mr. Murphy came into the kitchen a moment later, a smile on his face.

  “You must be Rosie!” His hair was the same shade of brown as Max’s and he had the exact same brown eyes. It was uncanny.

  She held out her hand and smiled. The gesture had the same effect it had on Mrs. Murphy. He stopped, his smile wavering as he looked at her outstretched hand.

  “Huggers. I told you,” Wendy called from the other side of the room. “Dad, you can’t hug everyone you meet.”

  He looked to Wendy. “She’s not just anyone.”

  “I know that,” she argued. “But not everyone’s a hugger.”

  “But-” he seemed to want to argue but when he looked back at her he extended his hand to enclose hers. “I’m glad you ended up making it.”

  “Me too,” Rosie told him and she was pretty sure she even meant it.

  It was strange, Rosie thought as they ate dinner, Thanksgiving was a fairly universal event. Though she’d only been to two of the holiday meals herself, she’d seen countless representations on television and in movies and they were all similar. The table was set with the good china, candles were lit and everyone was gathered around a meal that could feed an army.

  “I always make too much!” Christine marveled as they all neared the point of being stuffed.

  “Every year,” Sam, Max and Wendy’s father, agreed. “But it’s always delicious.”

  She smiled prettily at him.

  “Every year Wendy does more and more. Hopefully soon, she’ll take over and I can sit back and watch.”

  Wendy laughed. “Keep dreaming.”

  “I’ll take next year,” Dallas offered and though everyone laughed like he was joking Rosie suspected he was serious.

  “I think I’ll pass on anything you cooked,” Wendy joked.

  “Yeah, I’d like to live to see Christmas,” Max added.

  Rosie watched Dallas as they continued ribbing him, the color of his wispy aura shifting from deep blue to gray.

  He was hurt, even if his face was still holding that flirty smile.

  She didn’t know what came over her. “I’ll come,” she told him quietly, interrupting Max. Her eyes never left Dallas’s.

  His aura changed from dark gray to more of a smoky color.

  “Yeah?” He asked sounding more vulnerable than she imagined he could.

  If I’m here, she wanted to add. Instead, she nodded.

  “Brave,” Max laughed and held her hand under the table.

  “Well, don’t expect any help from Rosie,” Wendy pointed her fork at Dallas. “She’ll burn the place down.”

  Rosie rolled her eyes. “You burn one Pop
Tart and suddenly, you’re the town pyro.”

  “I didn’t hear the fire department get called out so it couldn’t have been that bad,” Dallas offered with a wink.

  “See! Thank you.”

  “I’m sure Max can teach you to cook,” Christine offered. “Or, if you’d like to come here sometime, I can show you a few things.”

  Rosie was stunned for second. It was incredibly generous of Max’s mother to offer to teach her to cook. No wonder Max and Wendy were so inherently kind. They came from two warm, loving people who obviously had taught them well.

  “You know, if you teach her to cook, I’ll be useless to her,” Max said to his mother.

  “I doubt that,” Dallas muttered under his breath.

  “Not at the table, Dallas,” Christine scolded.

  “Yeah, no sex talk at the table,” Wendy laughed.

  “Wendy,” her mother’s voice held a warning tone.

  “Mom. In case you haven’t noticed we’re all grown-ups.”

  “Not at my table you aren’t”

  Rosie leaned over to Max and whispered. “How did we get from cooking to sex?”

  He tilted his head and looked down at her lips. “Say sex again.”

  She rolled her eyes and sat back up.

  “Okay, kids,” Sam knocked on the table. “No more of that talk. It’s time to clean up and watch movies.”

  Everyone’s chairs slid out and they began picking up.

  “What movies?” She asked Max as she gathered plates.

  “After we eat dinner my parents like to dig out old home movies. We watch until we’re all sufficiently embarrassed, then they switch to Christmas movies.”

  They cleaned the table as Christine packed three sets of leftovers and put them in grocery bags.

  “For when you go home,” she smiled.

  Max and Dallas were stationed at the sink, dutifully washing dirty dishes and loading the dishwasher. Mr. Murphy was packing leftovers with Wendy. Mrs. Murphy roped Rosie into setting out dessert in the dining room.

  “So, you said your family was traveling for the holidays?” Christine asked idly.

  Actually, Rosie hadn’t said anything about her family at all since she’d been here. Wendy or Max had shared that information.

  “Yeah,” she answered quietly, the lie tasting like ashes one her tongue, not as easy to tell as it used to be.