by Glass, Debra
How could I have been so stupid? I should have kissed him when I had the chance. I should have told him how I felt.
“Yes there was,” Ella disputed, dragging me abruptly back to the present. “He had dark hair and wore suspenders and he winked at me.”
“Don’t be silly.” I knew I hadn’t convinced her because her mouth opened wide in realization.
“It was that guy you have a picture of in your notebook!” she exclaimed.
I shook my head. My stomach flipped and I struggled not to let her see any change in my expression. “If that’s who you saw then I bet it was the ghost my friends at school told me about.”
Ella’s eyes widened dramatically. “Momma said not to scare me.” With that, she darted off down the stairs yelling for Mom.
Blowing out a sigh of exasperation, I stalked back into my room. I’d probably hear about it from Mom later but right now, I didn’t care.
Jeremiah was angry with me and I didn’t blame him.
I just wished he would give me a chance to explain.
* * * * *
By the time Monday morning came, I was sick with worry. I hadn’t felt or seen Jeremiah since I’d glimpsed him glaring at Waylon from my bedroom window.
I felt helpless. It wasn’t exactly as if I could call Jeremiah and talk things out with him. I didn’t know where he went when he wasn’t with me. I didn’t know if he could see me. If he could, then he had to know how miserable I was.
One thing Waylon’s visit had shown me for certain was that in spite of everything, I wanted to pursue a relationship with Jeremiah—with a ghost.
I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it as I trudged toward the end of the driveway to catch the bus. I’d spent all day Sunday in my room weighing the pros and cons. The cons outweighed the pros but I couldn’t justify life without Jeremiah in my heart. It was silly. It was beyond insane.
I felt as if I was spiraling away from reality with no handhold to stop me and no safe landing awaiting me. No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t deny that I was falling in love with a ghost.
When the bus finally rolled to a stop in front of my house, I climbed on. Laura wasn’t on it and I felt a little rush of relief. I didn’t really feel like talking today although I wondered if she’d heard from Waylon. Anxiety would plague me until I found out what Jeremiah had said to him.
I rode to school in silence.
Even normally boisterous Ella seemed subdued today. Instead of sitting twisted around backward in her seat, staring at me, she sat facing forward, chatting with her little friend.
After we arrived at school, I filed off the bus and moved along with the herd into the school halls. Waylon’s head rose above the others and I spotted him prowling through his locker. I quickened my pace but when he glanced up and saw me, he averted his gaze and took off in the other direction.
My heart sank.
No doubt lingered in my mind that Jeremiah had frightened him, but had I somehow offended Waylon, too?
Frustrated, I gritted my teeth. I couldn’t win for losing! Intermittent waves of anger crashed through me at the fact neither of them would offer me an explanation.
Boys were the same, living or in spirit.
I couldn’t wrap my brain around Waylon. Although he’d seemed disappointed, he hadn’t really acted as if I’d rejected him when he’d tried to kiss me. I thought he understood.
Without warning, my shoulder slammed noisily into a row of lockers. Every head in the hall turned to see the cause of the racket. Including mine.
Sharp pain radiated through my neck and shoulder. I sucked in a breath through my teeth.
Briar’s hands settled on her hips. Her lips twisted in a smug smirk. “Where’s your friend, today, ghost chick?”
I wanted to fly into her and rip those two garish red knots of hair off the top of her head but somehow I restrained myself. For a moment, I feared she might start a brawl right there in the hall but instead, she stared as if she could see into my very soul. I trembled violently at the darkness in her eyes. Possessed…
He’s mine now…
My eyes widened at her telepathic threat. She suddenly struck her fist against the locker next to my head. The deafening sound reverberated in my ears. And then, she stalked away.
My heart pounded as I attempted to compose myself.
“Wren?” Holly’s worried voice caught my attention.
A group of nearby gawkers, disappointed there wasn’t going to be a cat fight in the hall, disassembled as, still trembling, I walked away with Holly.
“What was that all about?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.” I glanced over my shoulder as Briar strode down the hall in the opposite direction.
“Who was she talking about?” Holly looked back at her, too. “Laura?”
“I guess,” I lied.
Holly changed the subject and prattled on about the guy she liked but I could hardly concentrate on her words. There’d been something in Briar’s expression that scared me. Somehow, she knew Jeremiah wasn’t with me. The same panic I’d felt when Briar and her cronies confronted me at the lockers assailed me.
I drew in a deep breath and blew it out. My heart beat slowly returned to normal but the fear didn’t leave my veins. Her words haunted me. He’s mine now…
Could Briar actually do something to separate Jeremiah from me? My stomach churned at the thought she might have already done something to him.
Again, I glanced back but Briar had disappeared in the throng of students.
I needed to get on the computer and see if I could get on her Facebook page. Perhaps I could get online in the library.
* * * * *
My nerves were on edge. So much classwork hung over my head that none of my teachers would give me a pass to go to the library. I thought about going during lunch but then that might be my only chance to smooth things over with Waylon.
Maybe I’d be able to go to the library during one my afternoon classes.
I tensed as I entered the lunchroom, scanning the crowd for Waylon’s blond head. Taller than most of the other kids, he was easy to spot and I found him already in the lunch line.
I swallowed thickly and, after grabbing a tray and plate, I joined him. “Hi,” I said. It sounded like more of a question than a greeting.
“Hey, Wren.” He didn’t return my smile.
Pretending I couldn’t see the fear in his gaze, I began fixing my plate, not really caring that I’d chosen two starches already.
“What…what happened…at my house?” I asked. “What did you hear?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. He loaded his plate with the mystery meat of the day. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I inched closer to him so that only he could hear what I had to say. “Waylon, did I…did I say or do something that hurt your feelings?” Deep down, I knew I hadn’t but I hoped to dig more information out of him.
He stared, obviously debating whether he should tell me or not. The apprehension in his blue eyes made me feel sorry for him.
“Your house is haunted.”
I wet my lips with my tongue. My fingers tightened around the edge of my tray. “W-what makes you say that?”
He glanced to the side and then back at me. His eyes bored into mine. “You saw him. You know he’s there. Stop pretending, Wren.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied.
Holding his tray with one hand, he drew his camera out of his pocket with the other and showed me the picture on the screen. My pulse rioted as I gazed at my own image. I wasn’t alone in the picture. Next to me, was a swirling, smoky haze.
Waylon punched a button that enlarged the photo.
My breath froze when Jeremiah’s ghostly face took shape out of the mist.
My first thought was to deny it, to remark on how amazing the picture was. I couldn’t speak. Another part of me wanted to plead with him not to tell anyone but instead, I looked hard into Waylon’s eyes. The time
for pretending was over. “What did he say to you?”
Waylon’s gaze moved over my face, appraising me. He switched the camera off and slipped it back in his pocket. “That’s between him and me.”
My insides hollowed. I made an attempt to load more food onto my plate but my hands shook so badly, I could hardly scoop the mashed potatoes. A third starch. What was I doing?
I wasn’t hungry but if I didn’t do something, I knew I’d scream. I followed Waylon through the line. “If it was about me, then I think I should know what he said.”
Waylon picked up a Styrofoam cup filled with tea. “Look, Wren. What you do with that…ghost…is your business. All I wanted to do was get to know you better.”
I grabbed a cup of tea, too, and followed Waylon to the check out. Once we’d paid for our lunches, we started toward the table. I half-feared Waylon wouldn’t let me sit with him but he did.
“I-I don’t know what you mean,” I said honestly. Had Jeremiah threatened Waylon?
Waylon picked up his fork. “She’s mine,” he said bluntly. “That’s what he told me. I heard it as plain as day.”
I stared, not breathing. I waffled between joy at the thought that Jeremiah thought of me as his and terror that a ghost had laid claim to me as if I did not have a choice in the matter.
Yet another part of me ached because Jeremiah hadn’t spoken to me since the night we’d touched hands in the attic.
“Like I said,” Waylon reiterated. “What you do is your business. I won’t be involved in it anymore.”
“Did he…did he threaten you?”
“He didn’t have to.”
“I’m sorry, Waylon,” I began but he interrupted before I could make any further excuses.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”
Guiltily, I stirred my fork around in my mashed potatoes. “I suppose I should have.”
“I mean, what were you trying to do with me? Make him jealous?”
“I don’t blame you for being mad,” I excused. “But for the record, I wasn’t trying to make Jeremiah jealous.”
“Jeremiah Ransom?” A cold horror lurked in Waylon’s eyes.
“Yes.” My cheeks flushed with heat at the mention of his name. “You and I made plans before I…got involved…with him.”
“You still could have told me about him,” Waylon said. He sawed off a substantial bite of his meat and forked it into his mouth. After he swallowed, he twisted in his seat so that he faced me. “How does it work, Wren?”
“How does what work?”
“Being involved—or whatever it is you are—with a ghost.”
I gaped, wishing the earth would swallow me up. Still, I yearned to talk about Jeremiah, to confide in someone whom I considered a friend. I searched Waylon’s eyes. He couldn’t know how difficult it was for me to open up. Not after what had happened to Kira.
“I mean, do you hold hands? Go out on dates? How does it work?” he clarified.
I decided I’d explode if I didn’t risk it. “No. It’s not like that. It’s not like anything I’ve ever known.”
Waylon’s easy smile returned. “No wonder a dumb lug like me couldn’t even make it to first base with you. I can’t compete with a ghost.”
“You’re not a dumb lug.” Some of the tension finally seeped out of me. I returned his smile. “After my accident, I started having dreams that came true. Sometimes, I can tell what’s about to happen. And apparently, now I can see dead people.”
“So, it’s true. The guy who died there in your house has been haunting it since the Civil War.”
I nodded.
“And you’ve actually seen him?” Waylon continued.
“Yes.”
“Have you…talked to him?”
“Yes.”
Waylon gawked. “Let me get this straight. He talked back?” he asked but he didn’t give me time to answer. “What am I saying? Of course he talked back. I heard his voice loud and clear.”
Grinning, I nodded. Things seemed smoothed over with Waylon, and I was glad of that. I really did like him even if I wasn’t interested in dating him. Besides, total relief flooded me that I now had someone who believed me about Jeremiah.
“Has he told you much about the war?” Waylon asked.
“A little. Mainly, we talked about what dying was like.” Despite the din of noise in the lunchroom and despite the fact that misery swamped me because I hadn’t spoken with Jeremiah in days, I sensed I was in a protective bubble with Waylon. I found immeasurable solace in unburdening myself to him.
After a moment of silence, Waylon asked, “Do you know he likes you?”
My heart soared. “Yes.”
“And you like him, too?”
“Yes, I do,” I told him, feeling even more liberated by this confession.
“What’s that like?” he asked.
Magical.Wonderful. Exciting. Difficult. A million ways to describe it existed. I chose not to divulge too much. “It’s…different.”
Waylon seemed to mull over what I’d told him as he began eating again, but I merely picked at the odd conglomeration of starches on my plate.
My mind ran rampant with everything that had happened, not only over the weekend but today as well. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. I should have known the moment I laid eyes on Jeremiah Ransom’s ghost that life would never, ever go back to the way it was before.
Meeting him had completely ruined—no, altered—the hope of a normal life for me. But since Jeremiah wasn’t talking to me, what could I do about it?
I desperately needed to see him, to talk to him, to touch him.
Despite having unburdened myself to Waylon, my head ached as I tried to sort out my options. Impatience set me on edge. School was the last place I wanted to be and I considered calling Mom to tell her I didn’t feel well enough to stay here.
Just as I reached for my phone, Briar and her two buddies breezed through the lunchroom doors. My stomach flipped. Briar’s dramatically lined eyes immediately sought me out.
My gaze dropped to my plate.
Waylon stiffened. “Is she still bothering you?”
“She knows about Jeremiah,” I whispered.
Waylon’s lips formed an ‘O’. He glared at her.
“I have a really bad feeling about her,” I said. “She thinks he messed up her car.”
Waylon blew out a hasty breath. “He probably did. That boy’s pretty protective of you.”
Again, a confusing mix of terror and excitement tickled my insides at Waylon’s assumption. I’d never felt protected before.
Waylon studied her. “She says she’s a ghost hunter.”
“Like those goofballs on TV?”
“I’m not sure. She tried to get me to let her group into Rippavilla but I wouldn’t do it.”
“Why? Did she say what she wanted to do there? EMF readings? Photography?”
Waylon’s forehead furrowed as he thought. “She said something about clearing the place.”
“Clearing? Like getting rid of the spirits there?” My voice rose an octave in tandem with my panic.
I dropped my fork. My stomach roiled. What if Briar had somehow cleared Jeremiah? My hands shook as I snatched up my backpack and searched for my cell phone. I had to get home. I had to make certain Jeremiah was all right.
“What’s wrong?” Waylon asked.
“I haven’t heard or seen Jeremiah since you were at my house Saturday,” I said, dismally. “I’m calling my mom to tell her I’m sick and need to come home.”
“Hold on a second, Wren. How could Briar do that?” Waylon asked. “How could she get rid of him?”
“I don’t know.” My hands shook so badly, I could hardly dial my mom’s number. Closing my eyes, I forced myself to breathe in and out for a count of five despite the overwhelming urge to hyperventilate. When I heard Mom’s worried voice, I nearly burst into tears. “Wren? What’s wrong? Why are you calling from school?”
“I don’t feel well,�
� I said, pitifully. It wasn’t a lie. “Could you please come check me out?”
The few seconds it took her to answer seemed like an eternity to me. “Sure. Wait for me in the office.”
I breathed a sigh of relief as I said good-bye to her and snapped my phone shut.
“Is she coming?” Waylon asked.
“Yes.”
“Let me see your phone,” Waylon said.
Confused, I handed it to him. He thumbed across the screen, hit the contacts option and began typing on the screen. “I’m adding my cell number to your contact list. If you need me, call. Okay?”
My heart swelled. I batted my lashes to keep tears from falling. After everything, Waylon remained so wonderfully sweet.
I smiled my thanks as he handed back my phone.
“Let me know what happens,” he said.
“I will.” I stood and shrugged on my backpack.
Nine
When Mom didn’t slow down as she neared our driveway, panic swamped me again. “Where are we going?” I twisted to look back as we whirred past our house.
“David called. I’ve got to take him a file he left at the house,” she said, her eyes never leaving the road.
Groaning, I lay my head back against the headrest but then I got an idea. “Can’t you just drop me off?”
“This’ll only take a minute,” she explained. “Relax. Did you have lunch?”
“I didn’t feel like eating.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe a stomach bug.” With any luck, that would dash her hopes of taking me out for a mother-daughter bonding lunch. I had to get home. And when I did, I planned to plead, apologize, do whatever it took to get Jeremiah to talk with me. I had to know that Briar hadn’t done anything to him.
She glanced at me. “You do look awfully pale.”
I pressed the button to lean my seat back and closed my eyes. What if Briar had done something to Jeremiah? What if she’d cleared him or whatever she called it?
I focused, trying to feel, to grasp at the information but all I saw in my head was Jeremiah’s hand touching mine and the look in his dove gray eyes as he drew me into his arms.