by Lisa Freed
“I'm not a trust fund baby like you, some of us have to work for a living, you know.”
Trust fund? Oh, right, the house. I could understand how he would think that and I had never given him any real information about my financial situation, but that rankled. I could really throw his morning off with a big nasty fight, but it wasn’t worth it. Victor’s late-night visit had drained me. Plus, Lance was right I didn’t have to work for a living, the rescue was a wonderful dream come true and the most fulfilling part of my life.
“Anything I can do to help?”
Lance stopped trying to pick individual cat hairs off his jacket and simply stared at me.
His silence lasted longer than I was comfortable with causing me to fidget with the sheet gathered around me. Unable to stand it a moment longer, I flopped back and pulled the blankets protectively over my head.
Lance sat down, his weight making a slight depression in the mattress, as he slowly pulled the blankets off my face.
“Oh, honey, you are a marvel.” His pointer finger unhurriedly traced down my nose to my mouth, lightly going over the slight cupid’s bow before stopping at the left outer corner. His finger left my lip to be replaced by his warm mouth tasting strongly of my mint toothpaste.
My hands found his hard chest where I could feel the hammering of his heart, steady and powerful. With mindless enthusiasm, I had undone three of his shirt buttons before his hands captured and stilled mine.
With a slow releasing nip on my bottom lip he sat up, his now ever-present grin back in place. “Slow down, I really do have to get moving.” He redid the buttons and straighten his tie before running a slightly shaking hand though his crisp blond hair, messing it up rather than tidying it. The minor tremor pleased me knowing I had affected him as much as he did me.
“Then I’ll see you later, counselor.” I tried to wink, but whole thing was so cheesy that laughter poured out instead.
Strong arms hauled me against him, “Yes, you will, my little vixen!” The cheese was strong with him as well and I loved how silly we could be.
He nipped at my neck, causing another fit of giggles. “You know what I love? I was so stressed five minutes ago and now it’s gone. You are a miracle, Teresa, and you’ve been three houses up from me all this time.”
“And you were a jerk most of that time.” Shoot! That lack of a filter was going to get me in trouble someday and today might be that day.
Lance laughed before nipping at my neck again. “Yes, I was. Lucky for us both that asshole is gone. Speaking of which, I do have to go.”
One short hot kiss later and he strolled out the door, cat hair clinging to his jacket.
Was this love?
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Oh, he's a cute one.”
That low throaty smoker’s voice was one I both loved and dreaded, Great-Aunt Prudy. Prudence Lane, was either my mother or father's aunt, I was never told and never asked which it was. But when Megan and I were young she swept in and out of our lives, unerringly when we needed her most. A modern-day Mary Poppins, but one with long iron gray waves of heavy hair that frolicked and swirled with each of her graceful, dancer-like steps. A devoted two pack a day smoker, she left this world when I was fifteen, yet came back to wink at me during her funeral. And to berate the funeral director that had plastered her normally plain face with enough pancake makeup to do up a circus' clown troupe.
In death as in life, Aunt Prudy always popped in when I needed her, even if I didn't think that was true. Such as now.
Late night awakenings by ghostly visitors wasn't completely new to me, but two in a week and both while I wasn't alone, not good.
I pulled the heavy covers over my head hoping Aunt Prudy would take the hint. No dice as I heard her deep raspy chuckle.
“Teresa, I must say I approve of this one. And a lawyer too!”
I chanced a peek out of the covers, she was standing at Lance's side, her head cocked at an angle peering down, it almost looked like...no!
“Aunt Prudy!”
“What?! I'm allowed to look. I may be dead but I'm not dead!”
I decided to ignore that and move on to slightly safer topics.
“You know I love you, but must you visit so late?” I glanced at the cable box's display, three in the morning! “So early,” I amended sourly.
“Well I didn't want to interrupt you and sweet buns,” Prudy tossed another of her familiar winks at the horrified face I made at that thought. “Yet we need to talk.”
I sat up in bed, pulling the covers a little more fully over Lance's backside. He did have a sweet tush, Aunt Prudy still had excellent eyesight as well as taste.
“What's going on?”
“It's Victor, you must keep an eye on him.”
Now that did manage to shock me, I had no idea Prudy knew about Victor.
“How can I keep an eye on a ghost?” An impossibility if I had ever heard one.
“You were doing a fine job of it until Mr. Sexy Buns came into the picture. Victor was being a very good boy, mostly.”
“I was?” This was all news to me. I had no control over Victor, the man did what he wanted in death as in life.
“He was happy with your unconventional relationship and that kept him out of trouble.”
“Aunt Prudy, what am I supposed to do? Not date? Remain single forever?” I could hear my voice rising with each word and I fought to tone it back down. “Let Victor steal bodies so we can be together?” I hissed.
“I’m cannot tell you what actions must happen. I can only warn you that if things continue with him, something very dangerous is going to occur.”
“Since when have you gone for cryptic warnings? Aunt Prudy, if you know something you need to tell me what I have to do.” I spared a glance at Lance’s sleeping form. I was getting very used to him and a bit of resentment stirred in my stomach at the idea that my life was going to be decided by the whims of a ghost.
“Dear girl, I understand your frustrations all too well. You might not have realized but I had a touch of ESP as well when I was living. Not even close to the skills you possess but I had enough to know a few things. I knew you had the gift the moment I laid eyes on you after you were born. Your aura washed the entire room in the loveliest shade of purple. I couldn’t wait to hold you!” She stared off toward the darkened doorway as if viewing that moment in time once again.
Then Aunt Prudy turned back to face me. “You parents didn’t have a clue what to do with you and your sister, you both knew that from an early age, resourceful girls, you both inherited that from me. I visit your parents from time to time, did I tell you that?”
“No.” My voice remained hushed but something inside me yearned to hear more. Lack of parental love pulls at you no matter what your age and I still dreamed of having real parents and acceptance.
“No improvement. Still their selfish, scatterbrained selves. It does give me a serious chuckle to rattle their dishes or rearrange things to keep them on their toes.”
“Go Aunt Prudy!” I cheered.
“Yes, well back to the point, sorry to go off on a tangent, dear. Victor. His actions are going to affect several lives soon. The results could be disastrous.”
“Ominous much?”
“Sorry, Teresa, I’ll admit this spirit thing is a lot of fun but times like this stink. I don’t want to affect your future. You are in control of your own destiny.” She stopped, biting her lip in a manner both Mary and myself had definitely gotten from her. “Dang it, I want your life to be smooth and happy! Watch him, that’s all I can say.”
She leaned over me, peeking me on the cheek with the lightest of ghostly kisses. “Be well, child,” she intoned and then she was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Lance had the items from his pockets spread out all across the heavy oak nightstand on the left side of the bed, which was rapidly becoming his side. Curiously, I glanced at the various items dumped there.
I picked up an ornate silver
case, shaking it before discovering it was a card case. Heavy cream card stock came tumbling out when I flipped it open. His name was in bold dark type “P. Lance Hamilton”.
Lance came out of the bathroom at that moment, his hair sticking up wildly on the right side, a sleepy, sexy smile on his face.
“Hey! I didn’t know Lance wasn’t your first name.” If I sounded accusatory that was fully not my intent but after sleeping with a guy for almost a month you would think I had a right to at least know his real name!
The sleepy peace instantly cleared from his face, as he rubbed a rough hand over his jaw and grabbed at the cards with the other. “Lance is what I go by, okay? I never cared for my first name.”
“What does the “P” stand for?” I was not going to leave this alone, the more he protested and fought, the more my curiosity had to be appeased.
“Penrose,” was his harsh reply, growled in a deep voice I had trouble understanding at first.
“Sorry, did you say Penrose?” I could feel laughter bubbling up in my throat but tried to subdue it.
Tried and failed.
“No way! Seriously Penrose?” I snorted as the laughter poured out of me.
“Yes, Penrose! Now do you see why I prefer not to go by that name? Now please don’t bring it up again,” he pleaded.
I wanted to control my mirth, but every time I thought the name Penrose my lips twitched.
“So, your mother named you Penrose Lance? Why?”
“Not quite, and since you’re getting so much bloody amusement out of this we might as well get it all out. My mother apparently fancied herself a romantic, Penrose just wasn’t enough, and she was torn between my first and middle name. Finally, she settled on Penrose Lancelot.”
He eyed me coolly, his blue eyes carrying none of the warmth or affection that had been there constantly for the past several weeks.
That killed my mirth quicker than any harsh words would have. I bit my lip and gently released the cards to him.
“Sorry, Lance.”
“It’s fine, it’s nothing I haven’t gone through before. Growing up the first days of each new school year were brutal until I could get the teacher to understand I wanted to be called Lance and for the other kids to forget the whole Penrose business. It invariably came up a few other times during the year, but for the most part they left me alone about it after they got their snickers out.
“Why not change it?”
“And break my mother’s heart?”
Aww…that was so sweet that he loved his mother enough to put up with a truly horrendous name.
“My sweet Lancelot.” I wrapped my arms around his trim middle, snuggling into his warm chest.
“Enough of that nonsense, now forget all about this please?”
Tipping my head up to look at him, I smiled. “You got it, mister, now get your butt back in bed.” I gave it a playful pinch then leapt away before he could retaliate.
*****
Lance had a meeting that afternoon but promised he would be by for dinner. As much as I enjoyed his company it felt amazing to have a free afternoon to myself. Since we had begun seeing each other my “me” time was suddenly gone. When I wasn’t at Whisker Kisses or attending to shelter business Lance was around, either at my house, in my truck, hell the man even liked showering with me. He was far needier than I could have imagined.
Trying to shake some swirling misgivings about our relationship, I grabbed a new paperback I had picked up at the library’s book sale a few weeks before, my sunglasses and a large floppy black beach hat. Opening the sliding glass door, I stepped out onto my deck loving the fresh air and sunshine.
Plopping down on one of the two matching orange lounge chairs, I stuck my glasses and hat on, then glanced over at the James’ place two doors down. Sure enough, Mr. James was on their deck and waved gaily at me. I waved back, smiling more at his attire than at him. Nothing like reading the paper on your deck in full scuba gear.
Mr. James and his wife had been on their fiftieth wedding anniversary cruise enjoying some scuba diving in Mexico when he had suffered a fatal heart attack. I realized he had passed before Mrs. James even returned from their trip when I saw him duckwalking in the gear into his house. That had been over a year ago and most afternoons he still spent on his deck like he had in life. His devotion to his wife was so sweet and she had confided in me a few months ago that she felt he was still nearby. Oh, how I longed to tell her how right she was.
My afternoon passed blissfully. I finished my book with a contented sigh, just enjoying the outdoors and all that was right in my life. On a lark, I looked up the beach tides on my phone and saw that low tide would hit mid-morning. That would be perfect for a beach walk tomorrow. With a parting wave at Mr. James, I went back inside to do some long overdue spring cleaning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Is this one?” Lance asked holding up a brilliant green piece of glass.
I could see from where I was just how sharp the glass looked. Before I could caution him, he tossed it down uttering a surprised sounding ouch.
“Sea glass is not sharp or new glass. It’s frosted and perfectly smooth,” I lectured for what felt like the fifth time since we had arrived at the beach less than thirty minutes ago.
I should have come by myself. Should have snuck out of bed before he woke up leaving him a note. Or even better when he asked about my plans earlier just lied and left. At least then I could have been enjoying this gorgeous day by myself as planned.
The day was bright, the sun pleasantly warm on my bare arms and neck. I had driven us to one of my favorite out of the way beaches, south of Milford to enjoy the day, the beach, and one of the most relaxing hobbies to have- collecting sea glass.
It was a hobby I had fallen in love with when I found my first piece several years ago on a New Jersey beach. The way the ocean had taken a discarded bit of trash and turned it into something beautiful. The piece of brown glass I had found, so smooth and clear, had rapidly frosted up as it dried, though the amazing smoothness had remained which I marveled over as my fingers had turned it over and over.
Enchanted, captivated, yes, I was hooked. I loved to spend hours walking the various beaches in search of glints of color or a wink of light on the sand, which meant sea glass. Or disappointingly just really sparkly sand.
The solitude, inner peace, the waves slapping or gently ebbing against the beach, my mind was always so clear and my spirit light at the beach.
But not now. Lance’s presence disturbed all that. I had never noticed his need to fill any silence with talk. Now it was becoming painfully apparent. Instead of us strolling along finding double the sea glass, Lance filled every moment with chatter. My mesh beach tote contained very little glass. Lance didn’t seem to grasp the concept of sea glass versus freshly broken beer bottles some idiot had tossed last week. It was glass on the beach at the waterline so that meant it was sea glass to him.
He was standing there holding his bleeding finger up to his mouth, sucking at the blood, his eyes faintly accusatory. Yes, like it was my fault he picked up an obviously sharp piece of glass and had gotten hurt. I made my way over to him and plucked up the offending piece of trash, putting it into my second mesh bag, this one for glass, plastic, old balloons and all the other things that did not belong on the golden sands of the beach.
“Your finger okay?” I asked feeling not much concern and a smattering of guilt over the lack of.
“I don’t think I’ll need stitches but do you think I should have it treated? It could be harboring all sorts of germs.”
“Some soap and water and I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I said, trying hard to keep the edge out of my voice. I looked out at the water to help calm myself.
“Is this really how you spend your free time? Sorting trash on the beach?”
The man would never understand, that much was crystal clear. Do I waste this beautiful day and have us head out, or push on and hope to put enough distance between us t
hat I could truly enjoy myself? As I caught him checking his watch while he stood waiting on my reply, that made up my mind.
“Yes, this is one of the many ways I spend my free time. Let’s get moving before the tide starts coming in.” I took off at a brisk pace not even seeing if he was following or not. I drove us and the keys were safely in my bag so I knew there was no way he was leaving without me.
For five blissful minutes, I walked along, my eyes trained to the sand in front of me where the tide had pushed debris and hopefully some sea glass treasures, as the sounds of the ocean ebbing and flowing crashed in my ears. I was so involved with my inner thoughts that it took me a few seconds to react to Lance’s excited calls.
Lifting my head, I looked back over my shoulder seeing him standing near the water and motioning for me. I jogged over to him fully expecting to see a half-cooked piece of glass in his hands that I might drop into my bag just to make him happy. I wasn’t expecting to see the red piece in his hands. I don’t think I snatched it out of his hands, though his fingers might have been a tad slow to release it. Holding it up to the sun, the vibrant red glowed. It was perfectly smooth, not a chip or a rough edge remained.
“Lance, this is incredible! I’ve never found a piece of red this gorgeous before.” I kept rubbing it between my fingers, a goofy grin pushing at my cheeks making my oversized sunglasses rise up. I opened my mesh bag prepared to put this precious treasure in, when Lance’s hand on my wrist stopped me.
“Wait, give it back,” he ordered.
I blinked in confusion, the glass still held tightly in my hand.
“I found it, so it’s mine,” he instructed in a surprisingly calm voice considering he was trying to rob me of this specular find.
“But you don’t like sea glass and you’re only here to humor me!”
“Isn’t finding it the best part?” he countered, while loosening my death grip on it. As it fell into his palm, he looked at me with a cocky grin and a rogue twinkle in his eyes, “And you didn’t find it so it doesn’t count.”