Chasing Happy

by Jenni M. Rose

  “New Year’s day?”

  “Night,” he confirmed. “New Year’s day night.” Even he looked confused. “That’s why I said January first. Anyway,”

  “You’re going to need a date,” she said.

  “One with whitish hair,” he confirmed with a smile. “Intensely, gorgeous blue eyes.” She rolled said eyes. “Smoking hot body.” He held out his hands like he was grabbing something. “Boobs about this big.”

  She smacked him and laughed. “Okay. I get it.”

  “Will you be my date?”

  She felt her face heat. “I feel like I just got asked to the prom.”

  He looked thoughtful. “I never mentioned breast size in any of my other prom proposals. Is that how it works in Massachusetts?” She could see the laughter in his eyes.

  “You’re asking me? What would I know about it? But yes,” she said quickly. “I’ll go with you.”

  He looked thoroughly pleased with himself. Somehow a happy Max lifted some of the weight she carried on her shoulders. The thought of trying to prep for a black-tie event left her with an excitement she’d never felt before but she knew, with Wendy, she’d be in good hands.

  26

  The three weeks after Thanksgiving passed quickly. Max worked his ass off on the farm while Rosie continued working for Wendy and helping him on her days off. She swore she didn’t mind and he knew she was telling the truth the day he found that she’d hung curtains in the chicken coop. He’d stood there, kind of stunned, the hens almost preening as they inspected them.

  He and Rosie had developed a nice, if not frustrating, routine. She came to his house after work, although once in a while they’d grab the cat and head to her place. They ate and watched movies, some days they played games or read. At night, they’d often bathe together, letting the quiet settle around them. He had yet to talk Rosie into letting him go down on her though he’d mentioned it a few times. He could see she was curious and there were times, when they were really fooling around, that he’d probably be able to sneak it in there. But that wasn’t what he wanted and he knew it wasn’t what she wanted either. As much as she trusted him now and as much as she’d opened up, he wasn’t willing to take that decision out of her hands. He was waiting for her go ahead.

  She had little to no experience with sex so it wasn’t surprising she was hesitant. And even though it was possible he was the most sexually frustrated guy in the world, he was still going to sleep with that fucking sheet between them because it was what she needed.

  Mostly the ghost hunt had been quiet as well. Rosie had quietly investigated the story of Helene leaving Jerry but hadn’t invited him into her search.

  She’d been to see Jay a few times in the weeks since the incident at Thanksgiving. He still got goose bumps when he remembered hearing her tell Jay that Helene had possessed her. Never, in all his life, did he think something like that could happen. Rosie wore a metal charm on now that Jay swore would stop it from happening again.

  His father, as Rosie predicted, called a few days after the holiday concerned with who he was involved with. Despite his assurances that Rosie could do what she said she could, his father didn’t believe him. No amount of talking was going to change his father’s mind.

  He couldn’t say he missed the upheaval Helene’s spirit brought into their lives but her absence unnerved Rosie. She’d told him more than once that even though she hated some of the gifts, she felt naked without them. Of course, that always distracted him which she found funny and they always ended up off track.

  Max had put in a full day and was fixing a broken water line in the tomato beds. Mentally, he was planning dinner and picturing Rosie sitting across from him eating. Some nights it happened like that, they would sit together and laugh, learning about each other. Other nights, it was harder to draw Rosie out of her head. She did a lot of internalizing, which he found equal parts fascinating and maddening. He told himself, many times, to be patient. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a normal relationship after years of having nothing and trusting no one.

  Instead of focusing on normal, he focused on happy. Eventually, they would find their own version of normal, their own happiness.

  Max tilted his head back and inspected the sky and shook his head. Too dark, too deep of a blue. He’d check again tomorrow.

  Rosie was sure there was steam coming out of her ears.

  How could anyone in the history of everyone be so incredibly incompetent?

  The man standing in front of her was the ineptest moron she had ever come across. She watched him strut around, proud as a peacock, as if he’d done something wonderful.

  Nothing she’d said to him had penetrated the thick veil of stupidity surrounding him. He was right and not one word she said would change his mind. It wasn’t until another person came in the room that hope finally bloomed.

  “Excuse me?” She called.

  The man looked at her, disinterest written on his face, although the second he caught sight of her, his interest grew.

  “Aren’t I supposed to get a phone call or something?” Rosie asked.

  “That’s only on TV, sweetheart.”

  “Really? Can someone call Dallas for me?”

  That got his attention. She’d asked the other one a dozen times to call Dallas but he hadn’t listened. This guy though, he took notice.

  “Dallas Hunter,” she tried again. “He works here. Can you call him? Or let me call him. This is all a huge misunderstanding.” She adjusted her handcuffed wrists behind her back.

  “It’s always a misunderstanding,” the man laughed. He was tall and looked to be nearing forty. One thing she remembered from living with Butch was how exhausting being a cop was. This man looked as though he’d seen enough in his day, maybe too tired to hear any more excuses.

  “I’m sure that’s true.” She sent him her most pleading look. “Please.”

  The man rolled his eyes and then looked at the little shit that arrested her.

  “What’s she in for?”

  “Open container. DUI.”

  “I’m not drunk!” She insisted. “I was picking up empty cans in the park. I was putting them in the trash!”

  The older man rolled his eyes again.

  “Please call Dallas. He’ll tell you. I don’t even drink!”

  “I’ll call him but only because you’re going to need someone to bail you out at some point.”

  She’d been riding her bike through the park and hated to see the beer cans littering a spot that was special to her. It was where she had her fist date, it deserved respect. She picked up the empty cans and bottles and the next thing she knew, she was being arrested for open container and operating her bike while under the influence.

  The older one talked into his phone and after a moment asked, “What’s your name again?”

  “Rosie Knight.”

  “Name’s Rosie Knight.” He held the phone away from his ear and she felt a modicum of satisfaction. “Jonah pulled her in for DUI and a few other charges.” Silence. “We’ll wait for you.” He hung up and looked at her. “Hunter says you don’t drink.”

  “I don’t,” she confirmed. “I was honestly picking up empties on my way through the park. I was trying to help.”

  He shook his head and opened the cell she was in. “Come on, Jonah. Get her the breathalyzer and let her go if need be.”

  “I’ve already put her in the system,” he whined.

  “Without doing due diligence? You know better,” Murdoch scolded. “Stand up and turn around,” he instructed.

  He fiddled with the cuffs before the lock released. She turned, rubbing her sore wrists and staring at the ink on her fingers.

  “Some departments have digital fingerprint systems. They don’t use ink anymore.” His tone was conversational. “We’re too small. The district won’t approve it.”

  “Wonderful,” she snarled.

  Never in her life did she plan to see the inside of a jail cell. Sur
e, she’d done some questionable things when she’d run away. Shit, she’d even stolen from Butch but she’d paid him back so it didn’t count as stealing. But to be put in jail? She was furious. Embarrassed and furious.

  “Come on now. I let you out of there.” He smiled at her and she narrowed her eyes. “I can’t take a glare from you seriously. You’re like an angry fairy.” He waved her off. “Come sit.” He brought her to a desk where he promptly shoved her in a seat.

  Jonah came back with a little machine and handed it to Murdoch. He gave her instructions and she blew her breath into it for an eternity. When it beeped, he took it back and looked at it.

  “Clean as a whistle,” he smiled. “We’ll get your paperwork squared away and get you out of here.”

  If he smiled at her again she was going to punch him.

  This what people got when they tried to help. She had just been trying to do something good. She should have known. Trying to help had always come back to bite her.

  “How do you know Hunter?”

  She ignored him.

  “He your boyfriend?” She stared at a wall. “Nice kid. Good cop. You could do worse, I suppose. I like your shirt. Is that some kind of band or something?” After an extended silence, he whistled. “Tough crowd.”

  Minutes later Dallas stormed in. A rush of relief hit her and without her permission hot tears filled her eyes.

  “Hey now, it wasn’t that bad,” Murdoch said.

  Dallas let himself through the secure door and made a beeline for her.

  “What the hell happened?” Dallas asked as he approached. He quickly pulled her from the chair and into a hug.

  It was so unnatural to her that people wanted to hug or touch her. She’d nearly gotten used to Max, but being hugged by Wendy and Dallas was alien. Still, she hesitantly wrapped her arms around him and let him comfort her, if only to get some of her strength back.

  Jonah sounded like he was going to pee his pants, his voice shaky and quiet making Rosie wonder what kind of glare Dallas was sending him. He mumbled about finding her with a basket of empty cans and acting drunk.

  She had not been acting drunk.

  “Get her discharged,” Dallas ordered. “Like she was never here.”

  When Jonah began to argue, Dal interrupted. “Like this clusterfuck didn’t happen, Jonah. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Hunter.”

  “She’s free to leave,” Murdoch said. “With our sincerest apologies.”

  Rosie looked to Dallas who now stood, hand on hips, furious.

  “I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?” He joked, though his tone was anything but humorous.

  They’d had a few rocky moments but Dallas had become a fixture in her life. He was a rock, always there, always helping. Not that Max wasn’t, but the end payoff was different for Dallas. He wasn’t hoping for a happily ever after with her. He was just looking to make sure she was happy. He was just being a friend.

  There had been moments when she’d let her guard down, sure no one was looking, only to find that Dallas was. He was, in every sense of the word, loyal. Times like this, when her faith in others shook, Dallas restored it with a few words.

  She shrugged in response to his question.

  “I tried to tell her it wasn’t that bad,” Murdoch put in offhand.

  “Let’s get you home,” Dallas said.

  Murdoch stuck his hand out in apology. “Sorry about the mix up.”

  She looked down at it, knowing he was the one that helped her out of the mess. It wasn’t his fault she’d been brought in, it was Jonah’s. But when she looked up into his eyes, she flew back in time, nearly twenty years, to another police station with another policeman looking down at her.

  She took a step back and crossed her arms. His face fell and she looked away.

  He wasn’t sorry.

  “Let’s go,” Dallas repeated. Without another look at Murdoch she followed Dallas out of the station. Outside she easily spotted his truck and got in, her nails digging a path across her palms.

  He slid into his seat and started the truck but just sat there, looking at her. She stared straight ahead

  “I did not see that coming,” he murmured.

  “Sorry,” Rosie said, unable to look him in the eye.

  She could not believe she’d been in jail a few minutes ago. Literally, her whole existence, revolved around not becoming her mother. Not doing drugs. Not drinking. Not getting into trouble. Avoiding the wrong crowd. Still, she’d ended up just where she didn’t want to be. Maybe there is no outrunning your destiny.

  Dallas reached across the seat and put his hand over hers. “Stop. You’ll scratch through the skin.”

  She flexed her fingers a few times hoping to quell the urge.

  “It’s not a big deal, Rosie,” Dallas said. “Max’s been in that same cell.”

  She looked up at him. “He has?”

  “He didn’t tell you?” Dallas asked.

  “No.”

  “Huh,” he said then shrugged. “You’ll have to ask him about it.” He leaned over and opened the glove box. “Grab one of those alcohol wipes. It’ll take that ink right off.”

  She nodded, wondering what Max could have possibly done to end up there and then looked back at Dallas.

  “Thanks.”

  He shrugged. “What good would I be if I couldn’t pull a few strings?”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he agreed. “Glad we could get it straightened out.”

  “I tried to tell him,”

  He must have known she meant the younger cop. “He’s really gung-ho about the whole cop thing. He’s new.”

  “Well, he should listen to the people he’s talking to,” she argued. “I told him a million times I wasn’t drinking. I told him to call you.”

  He held a hand to his chest. “I’m so flattered.” She rolled her eyes. “Murdoch would have listened to you eventually. He’s a good guy.”

  “Sure,” she responded, Butch’s face swimming in front of her.

  They drove the winding roads to the far side of town where she lived, an easy silence surrounding them. Dallas turned off the main road, the bumps of the road as familiar to her as the feeling that enveloped her when Dallas took the next turn.

  “Stop,” she murmured, sitting up straight. Helene was out there somewhere, Rosie could feel it, her sense on high alert.

  “Stop where?” Dallas scoffed.

  Rosie looked from the side of the road to the woods. “Stop,” she said again, catching a glimpse of the spirit in the deep woods. “Stop!” She yelled louder.

  Dallas muttered but the truck slowed.

  “Stop,” she told him again, a cloud of urgent desperation surrounding her. Her hands fumbled for the handle, opening the door while the truck was still moving.

  “Wait!” Dallas shouted, slamming on the brakes.

  The second the car stopped she jumped out and waded toward the trees.

  There was something about not having seen Helene for weeks that had made Rosie’s skin crawl. She knew she didn’t but there was a sense that she owed this to Helene, possession aside. Helene was Max’s family, part of his legacy and where he came from. Helene had become a smudge in an otherwise happy existence for the Murphy family because no one knew the awful truth of what really happened to her.

  Mr. Murphy could argue all he wanted but that woman did not leave her family voluntarily. She did not run off with another man, heedless of the people around her. She was stolen from them. It was no wonder Helene’s spirit had never rested.

  Rosie heard Dallas crashing through the trees behind her but kept her focus on Helene. The closer Rosie got the farther the apparition drifted.

  “Stop, Rosie!” Dallas was shouting.

  “I can’t,” She whispered, something beyond her control driving her.

  It wasn’t like the time Helene had possessed her, though. This was different. She was conscious and her faculti
es were completely intact but there was something compelling her to keep following.

  “You have to!” Dallas said, sounding like he was right on her heels.

  “She needs me to follow her.”

  “This is crazy,” he huffed. “It’s fucking dark out here!”

  “We’re almost there,” Rosie said, knowing they were rapidly approaching Smith’s cove.

  “You shouldn’t be out here,” Dallas persisted. “We talked about this.”

  “I can’t stop. She’s pulling me.” The sense of desperation and resolve coursing through her, making her feet move even faster, was like nothing she’d ever felt.

  She broke through the trees and Helene was waiting for her. Had she been human and corporeal, her feet would have been in the water. She still looked as she had when she was killed, her dress torn and her shirt filthy. What was probably at one time a neat and tidy head of long chestnut pin curls was wildly askew and matted.

  Rosie felt Dallas bump into her back, his hands landing on her shoulders to steady her. Rosie stood there, unmoving, watching Helene while Dallas quietly looked around.

  “Is she here?” He whispered.

  She nodded. “By the water.”

  His head swiveled but he wouldn’t see her.

  “You can’t just drag her anywhere you want, you know,” Dallas called, his voice filled with annoyance.

  Rosie wanted to laugh. Leave it to Dallas to tell a spirit what was what, whether he could see it or not.

  Instead she reached up and patted his hand. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not,” he disagreed. “I’m calling Max.”

  “Please, no,” Helene’s voice whispered.

  Rosie lifted a hand, hoping for silence to hear the spirit better.

  “Wait,” she told Dallas.

  “For what?”

  “He can’t come,” her quivering voice whispered through Rosie.

  “Max can’t come?” She clarified.

  Helene’s head shook back and forth. “When he’s here, you’re not.”

  “Like, you can’t find me?”

  “She’s talking to you?” Dallas whispered, like he just realized what was going on. Rosie held up a hand to silence him.