To Free a Phantom

by Carrie Pulkinen

  She released her grip on the frame and leaned back in the chair. “I tried to summon you. Why wouldn’t you talk to me?”

  The spirit arched an eyebrow. “No one summons Colette DeVeau. I hadn’t decided if I wanted to speak to you. You’ve been a blubbering mess since you brought me here.”

  Erica straightened her spine. “I’ve gotten all the blubbering out of my system.” Colette never had patience for weakness or tears. If she wanted her to stick around, she’d have to be strong from here on out. She had so many questions, needed so much help, but the one that had been burning in her mind for months had to come first. “What happened to Mrs. Spencer?”

  Colette pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Such a sad ending. The poor girl went nuts. I heard dementia mentioned, but she never confided in me. All I could do was watch her fall apart.” She stared off into the distance, a faraway look falling across her features.

  Erica chewed her bottom lip. That didn’t make any sense. “Do you know why she killed her husband? I didn’t think dementia turned people violent.”

  The ghost’s eyes turned cold, pinning Erica with a hard stare. “He was holding her back. Keeping her from her dreams. Men do that, you know? She had the potential to turn that theater into something spectacular. It took three years to convince the man to let her renovate. We were planning a grand performance, but he wouldn’t let her invest the money into the show.”

  “Really?” That didn’t sound like Mr. Spencer at all. “He always seemed so supportive.”

  “Men will always crush your dreams.” Her eyes softened, a sympathetic smile curving her cherry-red lips. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

  Erica slumped her shoulders as a pang of regret for all her wasted years flashed through her chest. “I sure do.”

  The spirit made a tsk sound. “You were my protégé, Erica. You were going to be a star, until you followed that dreadful boy off to Hollywood. I’m still not sure I can forgive you for that.”

  “I’m not sure I forgive myself…but that’s over. How can I make it up to you? I own the theater now, and I’ve got one class going. We have a production scheduled for the end of the summer, and I’m going to start advertising. I just don’t have enough kids on board to keep it afloat. Can you help me?”

  Colette regarded her and tapped a finger against her chin. “You don’t need advertising, darling, you need a grand show. A performance of Showboat to rival Broadway. Pull out all the stops. Props, costumes, lighting, a live orchestra. Once people see what kind of show you can put on, they’ll flock to your theater.”

  Erica chuckled. “If I had the money to put on a grand show, I would. Right now, I’ll be lucky to afford costumes from a run-down resale shop. What else can I do?”

  Colette crossed her arms. “Do you want to be a success, or don’t you?”

  A successful teacher and director, yes. Being a business owner didn’t appeal to her in the slightest, but Mrs. Spencer had wanted her to do it. She’d try to be a success for her. “Of course I do.”

  “Then you’ll do as Colette says.”

  A sour feeling formed in her stomach. She’d have to start from scratch. New scripts. New sets. The kids would have learned all those lines and blocking for nothing. What would they think of throwing out everything they’d worked on for the past six weeks?

  It was risky. Then again, Colette had been a Broadway star in her time. Not just a star, she’d been in with the directors and producers. She knew the ins and outs of the entire business, so her advice was worth its weight. “I suppose I could cancel the ads and get my money back. But that still won’t be enough to pull off a show like you’re suggesting.”

  “Beg, borrow, steal. Do whatever you have to do to make it happen.”

  Erica let out a slow breath, the sour sensation in her stomach creeping its way into her throat. “I don’t know, Colette…”

  “Well, if you don’t want my help, I’ll leave.” Her image faded as the sparkling fog retreated from the glass.

  “Wait.”

  The translucent image reformed, and the ghost arched a delicate eyebrow, crossing her arms and drumming her fingers against her biceps.

  “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

  The spirit smiled triumphantly. “Good. And get rid of that boy you brought home last night too.”

  Her breath caught. “Gage?”

  “Men are only good for one thing, and he didn’t even give you that. Well, two things, but he didn’t look like he had money. Get rid of him.”

  Now that Gage was back in her life, she couldn’t imagine living without him. “He won’t cause any trouble. He’s just a friend.” After the way she’d acted last night…and the way she’d brushed him off this morning…he’d probably already decided she wasn’t worth pursuing a relationship with anyway.

  “Boys and girls can’t be friends. Someone always wants more. Make sure it isn’t you.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Careful to keep her relationship with Gage a secret from the spirit. She couldn’t afford to lose either of them.

  “Go clean yourself up and come back to me when you have a plan.” The spirit dissipated with the fog, leaving Erica staring at her own reflection.

  Well, now what? She rose from the chair and shuffled to the bathroom to clean herself up like Colette said. Turning on the shower, she dropped her clothes to the floor and stepped under the steady stream of water. The heat relaxed her muscles, but it did nothing to slow the river of thoughts raging through her mind.

  Colette wanted a grand show. And Showboat of all things. Did the spirit have any idea how much it would cost to produce? Even if Erica had a full schedule of classes going, she wouldn’t be able to afford a show like that. The set alone would cost the equivalent of three months’ rent. And a live orchestra?

  She laughed as she worked the lilac-scented shampoo through her hair. Even if she could pull it off, she’d be in debt up to her eyeballs. And what if it didn’t work? What if she put on Colette’s grand production and no one signed up for fall classes? What if no one came to the show? Then what?

  She rinsed and shut off the water. Colette had never steered her wrong before. The spirit was rigid in her ways, always insisting Erica follow her stage directions exactly. She’d never been wrong about acting. Why should Erica doubt her now?

  Anyway, she was an adult, and she was allowed to say no. The live orchestra was out of the question, but surely she could pull off the rest of the production. She didn’t have to do everything the spirit insisted.

  And she certainly didn’t have to “get rid” of Gage. Wiping the fog off the bathroom mirror, she gazed at her reflection. Gage hadn’t even flinched when she’d taken her shirt off last night. He didn’t frown or scowl or do anything to hint at being disgusted by her appearance. Even her own father still grimaced sometimes when he looked at her.

  When Gage looked at her, a fire sparked somewhere deep inside her soul. He truly was the nicest man she’d ever met, and she owed it to him—to herself—to explore these newfound feelings. If their friendship could survive ten years apart, it could survive one more date.

  That’s what she would do. She’d take it one date at a time. Have a nice dinner. Talk about him rather than herself the whole time. Dinner. She could do that.

  She threw on a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt and tiptoed past the mirror. Swiping her phone from the table, she slipped out onto the balcony and dialed Gage’s number. He answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, Gage. Do you think…” She blew out a breath. All she had to do was ask him out. It was a simple question, so why was she having such a hard time pushing the words over the lump in her throat? “Can I have a do-over?”

  “A do-over?” He sounded skeptical.

  She picked at a piece of flaking paint on the banister. “Yeah. You asked me on a date last night, and I screwed it up. I was hoping you’d give me another chance. I promise to behave this time.”

 
; Silence hung between them. She peeled the chip of paint from the railing and flicked it over the side. A sinking feeling formed in her stomach as she watched the brown flake float to the ground. He was probably thinking of a nice way to let her down. To tell her she’d had her chance, and she’d blown it. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel each pulse of blood as it rushed through her veins. “If you don’t want to, I understand.” She held her breath.

  “I’m free tonight.”

  She let out her breath in a giggle. Real smooth. Get it together. “Tonight’s good.”

  “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  She bit her bottom lip and glanced through the window at the mirror in her bedroom. If Colette found out what she was doing, she may refuse to help her with the theater. “What if I came to your place, and we can go from there?”

  He paused. “Yeah. That’s fine. Still seven?”

  “Text me your address, and I’ll be there.”

  Chapter Nine

  Gage shoved the last of the supplies into his backpack and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Certain he’d blown any chance he had of starting a relationship with Erica, he’d jumped at the chance for a do-over on their date. He had one more shot, and he would not screw it up.

  The bell rang, and he swung the backpack over his shoulder and opened the door. Erica stood on the porch, her hair glistening in the light of the setting sun. She wore a teal, long-sleeved shirt that hung loose over her hips and the sexiest pair of skinny jeans he’d ever seen. Teal Converse matched her shirt, and her smile made him forget to breathe.

  He stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. “You look beautiful.”

  Casting her gaze downward, she smoothed her braid over her shoulder. “Thank you.”

  She was obviously not used to hearing compliments. He’d have to change that. He took her hand, running his thumb from the unmarred skin to her scar. “I mean that.”

  She met his gaze. “I believe you. What’s the backpack for?”

  “It’s dinner.” He patted the pack. “Oh, I almost forgot.” Yanking the door open, he grabbed a blanket from the sofa and tucked it under his arm. “We’re having a picnic.”

  She smiled. “That sounds nice.”

  “I hope so.” He’d scoured the Internet all afternoon for ideas for a romantic date. They’d tried dinner and drinks, and that had ended badly, so he wanted something different this time. Something more personal. Taking her to see a play had crossed his mind, but he had no idea what she’d already seen and what she hadn’t over the last ten years. Plus, seeing a play or a movie would require two hours of silence. He wanted to explore the possibility of a relationship, and that would require conversation.

  He drove her to the park and spread the blanket under a willow tree near the lake. The long, drooping branches created a canopy around them, and the deep orange sun painted the sky in shades of red and purple.

  Kneeling on the blanket, he unpacked the supplies as Erica settled next to him. “Sandwiches, cheese, fruit, and dessert.”

  She giggled. “Twizzlers?”

  “Best candy ever.” He pulled out a box of Godivas. “I brought chocolate too.”

  “Oh, dark chocolate. That’s my favorite.”

  “I remember.” He caught her gaze, and his heart gave a thud. His mom had liked to keep a big bowl of Hershey’s Miniatures in the kitchen when they were young. Every time Erica had come to their house, she’d picked out the Special Dark bars and left the rest.

  Her smile brightened her eyes. “This is so nice. No one has ever gone to this much trouble for me.”

  “It was no trouble at all.” He handed her a sandwich and scooted closer to her. They ate in silence for a while, staring out over the lake, watching the ducklings dip their heads in the water, imitating their mother. They’d pull their bills up and shake their down feathers, turning themselves into little fluff balls floating on the surface. Erica leaned into him, and he let out a satisfied sigh. Their do-over was going well so far.

  She finished her sandwich and folded up the wrapper, stuffing it into the bag. “Tell me more about D.A.P.S.”

  “What do you want to know? You said you’ve seen the TV shows.” He bumped her shoulder with his.

  She smiled, taking his wrapper and adding it to the bag. “Do you go around getting rid of people’s ghosts?”

  “Sometimes. But only our psychic can actually get rid of them. Most of the time, we just gather evidence. You’d be surprised how many people want to keep their ghosts once they find out they’re harmless.”

  “Hm.” She rubbed her hands together. “I’d love to learn how to help them cross over.”

  “Allison’s on vacation with her husband, but I’m sure she’d be happy to help you when she gets back.”

  “Do you ever think about quitting your day job? Hunting ghosts for a living?”

  A professional ghost hunter. That would be some job…not that there was much money to be made in paranormal investigation. Unless a team landed its own TV show, they’d never make enough to survive. “I’ve thought about it, but I like my job. Staying up all night and then going over hours of evidence the following days can take a toll on you. I like the balance I have right now.”

  “That makes sense.” She nibbled on a piece of cheese.

  “What about you? Are you looking for another job, or are you focusing on the theater now?”

  She inhaled deeply and let out a heavy sigh. “I haven’t decided. I want to make the theater work. I love teaching. It’s the business side of it…dealing with budgets and scheduling and trying to increase enrollment. It’s not as fun as I thought it would be.”

  “Maybe you can find a partner. Get someone else to run the business, while you teach the classes.”

  “I have…someone who’s helping me. Her advice is kinda scary though.”

  “Oh?” He turned toward her, resting a hand on her knee.

  She glanced down to where he touched her, and a tiny smile curved her lips. “She thinks I should funnel all my money into putting on a huge production with the kids I have. That once the community sees this grand show, people will be lining up to take my classes.”

  “Sounds risky.” And not the smartest way to get a business running, especially when she had no other income.

  “I know. But she’s a former Broadway star. She knows what she’s talking about. I just… What do you think I should do?”

  She definitely shouldn’t pour all her resources into one show in hopes that it would be enough to draw a crowd, but it wasn’t his decision to make. “I think you should go with your gut. Do whatever feels right.”

  She looked into his eyes. “That’s good advice.”

  Advice he needed to follow, himself. And with the way she looked at him…like he was the only man in the world…he’d be an idiot not to follow his own gut. “You know what feels right to me?”

  Her gaze drifted to his mouth before returning to his eyes. “What?”

  His heart pounded. “Being here with you.”

  She smiled and drifted toward him. “There is a certain rightness here, isn’t there?”

  “There certainly is.” He reached his hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a kiss.

  She came to him willingly, parting her lips to let him in. Warm. Inviting. She ran her hand halfway up his thigh and squeezed, sending blood rushing to his groin. He leaned forward, laying her back on the blanket, and she moaned into his mouth. Damn, this felt good. Way better than his teenage mind could’ve ever imagined. Her taste. Her scent. Her soft curves pressed against him. He’d fantasized about being with Erica more times than he could count, but he’d gotten it all wrong.

  This. The real her, clutching his shoulders, searing his skin with her kisses…this was so right. If they hadn’t been in public, he would’ve taken her right there on the blanket. Instead, he pulled away slightly, catching her lower lip between his teeth.

  She slid her hands into his hair, pulling him back for mo
re, and he planned to give her everything she wanted. He glided his hand up and down her tender curves until something warm and wet plopped onto his shoulder.

  “What the hell?” He rolled off her and tugged on his shirt to see what had landed on him. Another drop splattered onto his stomach.

  Erica shot to her feet, but it wasn’t until three more golf ball-sized bombs splatted on his shirt that he realized what was happening.

  He scrambled to his feet and yanked the blanket from beneath the tree. “Shit.”

  Erica giggled. “Literally.”

  “What the hell kind of bird is that? An ostrich?”

  She peered into the branches. “I think it’s a raven.”

  “No way a raven can shit that big.” His shirt was covered in bird crap from the top of his left shoulder, clear down to the hem in front. And the smell… “Dear God, this stinks.”

  Erica laughed and rolled up the blanket. “I guess that’s our cue to leave.”

  “Apparently.” He grasped the back of his shirt and yanked it over his head, carefully avoiding the splattered shit. “Did any get in my hair?” He shook his head, gently running his fingers through his hair to avoid smearing any crap that might have landed on his head.

  Erica’s eyes widened, the smile fading from her face as she swallowed and licked her lips. “Your hair is fine. Your body is…uh…” She cleared her throat. “You must work out.”

  He hadn’t expected that reaction from her…or any reaction really…when he’d taken his shirt off. He’d just wanted the stinky shit away from his body. But now that he had her attention… He chuckled. “Nah. I don’t have time for the gym.”

  “You must do something to look like that.”

  He shrugged. “I go rock climbing.”

  “Fascinating.” Her smile returned as she slinked toward him and ran her fingers across his chest. His stomach tightened at the feel of her soft touch on his skin. “My nerdy boy-next-door has grown into an incredibly sexy man.”

  He slid his free hand to the small of her back. “I’m still a nerd.”

  “A sexy nerd. I like it.”