by Chanel Smith
“I’m sure that those memories are inspiring you a great deal,” he smiled. “Perhaps his spirit is watching over your shoulder and giving you some tips as you work.”
“No doubt,” she laughed, fighting back her nerves.
“So, did you make a copy of your marked up manuscript to work from? It is uncanny how well you have corrected the things that he has suggested that you correct in his red ink remarks on the original.”
God, why was he pressing her so hard and staying so close to making her reveal the truth? Did he know something? Was he trying to get her to break and tell him the truth? She couldn’t see how he would know anything, but it was curiously odd, how he continued to work the conversation around to things that made her nervous.
“God, Mister Herman, I would never forget those ‘red remarks’ on that first story. I remembered how he told me to show him rather than tell him and to dig into the emotions and thoughts of my characters. The story, of course, has never left my head, so when I sat down to write it again, it was like I had never left it behind. The only difference is that I am writing better now.”
“That makes sense,” he admitted. “If you continue on the track that you’re on, this story is going to make both of us a pretty penny. Mostly, you, of course, but my cut won’t hurt too badly as I start into retirement.”
That was his lead into a representation contract, something that Diana was certainly not expecting, but quickly signed it, not at all worried about her father’s old agent trying to pull a fast one on her. Maybe she should have considered the contract a little bit longer, perhaps had an attorney look at it, but she was at a point where the sooner she could get out of the meeting the easier it would be for her to breathe again.
With the contract signed and lunch arriving, the conversation turned away from the book and everything related to it and turned toward children, grandchildren and what he had seen and not seen in Southern California. By the time they finished lunch, Diana had relaxed a great deal and was actually enjoying herself. They parted ways with a hug and exchanged kisses on the cheek.
“I’ll be in touch with you as I have news on offers and to check up on your progress, okay?” He said as he held her at arm’s length after their hug.
“Sounds great to me,” she replied. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
They went in separate directions once the parted. He went to his rental car and she to her own, worn out bug. Once in the seat of her bug, she smelled the aroma of Cavendish. “Very funny, Granddaddy,” she said aloud before turning the key.
Chapter Eighteen
Though she had initially felt guilty about Jaxon’s possession and the fact that he spent an hour or so every night typing in that particular state, Diana was beginning to see the purpose behind her grandfather’s spirit being present in their apartment. Not only had Jaxon recovered dramatically from what his teachers had described as a language disability, but he’d begun to excel beyond his classmates, prompting the counselor and teacher to begin asking Diana questions about what sort of program she was using at home. Obviously, she could not tell them the truth and she could only point to the suggestions that her mother had made to her.
As I was leaving to go back to my apartment as she arrived home from work, she was bubbling with excitement and eager to tell me about her lunch with her new agent.
“He told me that there were several publishers involved in a bidding war over my book,” she said with excitement. “I signed a representation contract making him my agent and allowing him to negotiate the deal, but he seemed to think that it is going to be a profitable one. Wow! Ellen, can you imagine it. I was so worried about the financial problems and now, it’s like they are swept out of the way thanks to my Granddaddy.”
“That is amazing, Diana,” I said. I had been fighting exhaustion from the heavy workload I had suddenly received from my classes, but it was difficult not to enjoy the sudden turn of luck along with her. “Aren’t you glad that I told you to stick it out?”
“Do you think this was the purpose behind it all? Is he really just helping me through a difficult time?”
“It could be and look what it’s all done for Jaxon as well. So, what are you going to do?”
“I’m certainly not going to fight it anymore,” she laughed. “Granddaddy and my possessed child are my meal ticket now.”
“I think I’d be careful with that way of thinking, but I’d say that seeing it through to the finish is definitely your best option now.”
“I’m going to get everything set up and ready for when he comes out to work. I wonder if he would drink hot cocoa?”
“Now you really are going nuts,” I laughed as I gathered my stuff and started for the door.
“Hey, Ellen, thanks for everything that you do.”
“You’re quite welcome,” I replied. “Besides, I have a front row seat that is excellent for my studies.”
After her meeting with Albert Herman and the sudden optimism that she was beginning to feel about her financial future, Diana decided that rather than dreading and fighting the 2:00 a.m. work time, she decided that it was time to embrace it. When she came home from her shift at the Pancake House later that evening, she prepared the typewriter and had paper standing by in order to continue to feed the machine. She’d brewed a cup of decaf and sat at the table, eagerly awaiting the arrival of her son for the work that must continue on.
She was baffled when 2:00 a.m. came and went without the sound of Jaxon’s little feet coming down the hallway. By 2:10 a.m., she began to speculate about the problem. She went down the hall and looked in on Jaxon, who was sleeping soundly in his bed. His angelic face was softly lit by the nightlight and she sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes and simply looked at him, trying to make sense of what had taken place over the past weeks.
Had she been foolish to allow him to do the work? Should Ellen and I have stopped this? Could we have stopped it? Ellen didn’t think so, but could she have been wrong? The questions hammered at her until she left the room and went back down the hall to the kitchen table. From there, she stared at the silent typewriter and tried to figure out what to do next.
Confident that everything was going to go her way, she had signed the contract with Herman and was looking toward the promise of lucrative gain like Albert Herman had promised. Obviously, the contract of representation obligated him more than it did her, except in the case of actual book royalties and advances, but if the book was never finished, then she would have to explain why it had not been completely. That would mean that she’d have to tell the whole story. She wasn’t looking forward to that.
After an hour or so of questioning what was going on, she finally decided to just go to bed. The typewriter had stopped before, but had later started back up again. Did Granddaddy’s spirit need rest too? There was so little that she did not understand about the paranormal world, so she really could not speculate as to what was taking place with any sort of accuracy. The last thought on her mind that early morning was that she would just wait and see what happened.
The following morning, Diana was at my door after Jaxon was on his way to school and eager to tell me more about what Albert Herman she had discussed at lunch the day before and to question me about paranormal activities.
“You seem a little bit more subdued this morning,” I observed when she sat down with her cup of coffee. “I supposed the initial excitement wore off a little bit?”
“A little bit, I guess reality is starting to set in.”
“What sort of reality?”
“Mainly that I can’t count my chickens before they hatch. The book has to be finished before any of this financial gain that I was so anxious about can take place.”
“That certainly is reality. It has a way of waking us up, doesn’t it?” I watched her for a few seconds and noticed that she seemed to be deep in thought. “So, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” she began. “He didn’t come last night.”
“Well, there is that, but there are a few other things bothering me.”
“Okay, dump them on me.”
“Well, Albert told me about receiving my red marked manuscript from Granddaddy with a postmark date from 1989.” She told me the entire story about the package.
To tell the truth, I was as shocked and fascinated as she was. There was no explanation for it as far as I could tell either. “I wish I could tell you what was going on, but I simply do not know. That is beyond my scope of understanding. I suppose that in the spirit world, time doesn’t exist, but I’m only speculating.”
Diana remained silent for a few moments after my explanation and I sensed that there was still more. I waited to see if she would volunteer the other thing that was bothering her. When she didn’t, I pried a little. “Okay, so what is the other thing that is bothering you?”
“Honestly, Ellen, I have a sense that I am supposed to finish it myself.”
“And where is this sense coming from?”
“I don’t know. It might be that I feel a little bit guilty about putting my name on something that I’m not writing.”
“I thought that we went through this before. The story is yours, and from what you just told me, it is tracking along the lines of that original manuscript. So what makes you think that you should be finishing it?”
“Because, this is the point in the story where I stopped before. The rest of it was never written.”
“So?”
“I can’t write like that, Ellen, I’ll screw it up.”
Chapter Nineteen
“You got rid of that pipe tobacco smell, I noticed,” Doug commented.
They’d had the evening alone together while Jaxon was over at my apartment. As they relaxed on the sofa, Diana had been distant, though she’d willing allowed him to pull her close.
“How’d you do it?” he asked after several moments of silence.
“How’d I do what?” Diana asked, snapping back in time to hear the question. Her mind was a million miles away, though the object that was causing her to take that mental trip was less than a dozen feet in front of her; taunting her.
“Alright, Diana, we’re going to have a discussion and I’m going to find out what has been eating at you for the past week. Not to mention the fact that it more than doubled tonight.”
“I told you that nothing was bothering me,” she replied, trying to become suddenly friendly and cuddly in order to avoid the conversation.
“Oh no, I’m not buying that maneuver,” he said, pushing away from her and blocking her with a throw pillow that he snatched up and put between them. “We’re talking this out. Start with today and work backward.”
Initially, when she had received the call from Albert letting her know that one of the publishers finally offered what he felt like the book was worth, she had been on cloud nine. Quickly thereafter, she had realized that the book had to be finished before she had any chance of receiving the money. With the typewriter sitting silent for more than a week and her own guilt working away at her, her elation had instantly turned to depression. She decided to give him a little piece of the information. She could always stop before she made him think that she had completely lost her mind.
“I got a call today from my agent.”
“Bad news then?” he asked.
“Well, some wouldn’t think so,” she said. “I have a pretty sizeable offer from a publisher with an advance as soon as I complete the manuscript.”
“That’s awesome!” He removed the pillow between them in order to give her a congratulatory hug and kiss. He sat back, realizing that she hadn’t been enthusiastic about the hug and kiss and that she had left a shadow of doubt within the statement. “So, it isn’t good news to you? I’m sorry, you’re going to have to explain that to me. I’m a little slow sometimes.”
“Can’t you see, I only get the money if I complete the manuscript,” she explained patiently.
“Okay, so finish it,” he replied, wrinkling his brow as he tried to anticipate what the problem was.
“I can’t!” she exclaimed. “I’ll just screw it all up.”
“Forgive me, but I’m not following you on this. If what you wrote in the first part is enough to attract a major contract with a publisher, what makes you think that you’ll screw up the finish?”
“Because I suck as a writer!” Tears began to spill over the rims of her eyes.
“I’m still not getting this,” he said, reaching up with his thumbs to dry the tears on her cheeks. “Are you feeling too much pressure now? Success anxiety, that sort of thing?”
“No, it’s not that.” She wanted to tell him the truth so badly, but she was certain that if she did, she would lose him forever and she had begun to grow very fond of him.
“You’re going to have to give me more to work with here,” he replied.
“It’s because I didn’t write the first part!” she blurted out. The moment it came out, she knew that she was going to have to explain the entire story.
“Alright, now that we have established that, you’re going to have to explain things further.”
“Well, I did write it originally, but not this part… oh God, I can’t believe that I’m telling you this.”
“Better not to have secrets between us don’t you think?”
“But you’ll think that I lost my mind.”
“Well, unless you explain things to me, I’ll already think that, so you have nothing to lose, right?” he smiled.
His grin melted her. She’d trusted him with so much, maybe it was time to cross the line and trust him a little bit more. She sighed heavily and then went into the full story behind the story. She wasn’t sure how he had received it all until she finally wrapped it all up and then waited for some sort of a response. They came in a series of short questions that made her extremely nervous.
“So, the 911 call about the break in? Jaxon’s miraculous recovery? You looking exhausted all the time? The aroma of tobacco smoke that just suddenly appeared and then disappeared? Ellen knows about this? She’s a paranormal investigator or at least studying to be one?” He sat for several minutes digesting it all. “You know, the one that is really baffling me is that damned package. How in the hell?”
“The package bothers you!” she burst into laughter. “I just told you a story that proves that I am certifiably nuts and you have a problem with the package?”
“You don’t have a problem with the package?” he looked at her and cocked an eyebrow just like her Granddaddy used to do.
Diana knew that she’d seen him do it before, but in that moment, it suddenly dawned on her that there were dozens of features in Doug that were just like those of her grandfather. “So you don’t think I’m nuts? You believe my story?”
“I’m not going to say that it all makes perfect sense, but it certainly explains why we didn’t find any evidence of a break in that night you called 911,” he grinned.
“Jesus! I’m being serious!” she smacked him on the chest with her open palm.
“I am too,” he chuckled. “Look, I don’t claim to understand everything in the universe. I’ve seen some pretty weird and unexplainable shit, if you’ll excuse my French. Let me ask you a few questions.”
“Okay,” she looked at him suspiciously.
“Did your ghost, your Granddaddy’s spirit ever hurt the boy?”
“No, quite the opposite, actually, he helped him.”
“Alright. Did anyone besides you witness all of this taking place?”
“Yes, Ellen did.”
“Did anyone else smell the scent of pipe tobacco in your apartment?”
“Yes, you dork, Ellen did and you did!” She smacked him again. “Why are you interrogating me?”
“Because I want you to see the fact. You’re not crazy and I don’t think you’re crazy.”
She couldn’t have been happier to hear those words coming out o
f his mouth. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him with all of her strength. The hugs turned into kisses and the kisses led to other things that then led them down the hall to her bedroom.
With all secrets between them gone, she had felt free to give herself to him fully and their passion reflected the hunger that had grown between the two of them. As she lay in his arms after their lovemaking, she whispered in the darkness.
“So, you don’t think I’m crazy?”
“Certifiable,” he replied, pausing for a moment until she sat up turned on the bedside lamp and stared at him. He grinned at her. “But who isn’t. I’m a bit that way myself.”
“You idiot,” she laughed. “What I mean, is do you believe my story?”
“I do,” he replied.
“You’re not just saying that to get me in bed?”
“I already got you in bed,” he laughed.
“Be serious.”
“I am being serious. I believe your story, but there’s something more that I believe more than even your story.”
“What is that?”
“I believe that if you dig down inside, you have what it takes to finish that story. In fact, I’ll bet that you already know how you want it to end and have already ran it through your mind over and over again. Am I right?”
“I suppose,” she replied. After a few moments, she asked one more question. “So, what do I do now?”
“Finish the story.”
Chapter Twenty
Though she had accepted the advice of both Doug and I, the typewriter had still sat silent with an empty sheet of paper loaded and ready to be covered with the rest of the story that was waiting to be made complete. In spite of the fact that Doug had been right about the ending to the story having floated around in her head, even haunting her, since she had been 15, she simple could not move herself to sit down and do what had to be done.