Ruby's Letters

by Maggie Van Well

  Emma raised her chin and moved through the doorway, this time without resistance. The second she walked in, a chill descended, thick and heavy. She shuddered as a frightening sense of rage gushed through her.

  “What’s wrong now?” Ryan asked.

  “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Like how?”

  Emma thought back to the conversation she’d had with Mrs. Morris. “The house seems angry.”

  Turning on his heel, Ryan walked down the steps to the garden floor. “Can we get on with this, please? I want this job done before I’m forty.”

  Emma followed him into the kitchen. The air changed and her anger abated, replaced by a lighter, happier feeling. “You’re not forty yet?” She threw her hand over her mouth. Oh, God, did she say that out loud? But, to be honest, as handsome and sexy as Ryan Atkinson was, he looked at least forty-five.

  Expecting him to turn on her with a nasty response, he surprised her with a chuckle and a mischievous grin. “No, I won’t be forty until December.”

  “Sorry, I—” Heat inched its way into her cheeks. She turned away. She had to. God, that man could make her crave with just a glance.

  She focused on the fireplace. The police had finished the job of removing the rest of the brick wall, but they had done nothing to be careful about it. She and her men had a lot of work ahead of them. She checked her watch. Where the hell were they anyway? Sure, they were late on occasion, especially on Monday mornings, but they could at least call.

  As she went over the work in her head, she crouched down and walked into the fireplace. She felt a little disrespectful to be rebuilding it, knowing a woman had died in here. Her eyes welled up. Please Lord, don’t let it be that she was still alive. It was just too terrible to contemplate.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  Ryan came up behind her, stroking her hair. What the hell was going on with him? A minute ago he’d been ready to tear her a new—well, he hadn’t been very nice, and now he was touching her. And the melted chocolate voice was back.

  She faced him and internally gasped as she peered into his eyes. They ran over her features like a gentle caress, making her feel as though he could read her innermost thoughts. Thank God he couldn’t, or he’d be running from the room. “I—I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? You look upset.”

  Electric shocks traveled throughout her body and settled into places that shouldn’t concern Ryan Atkinson.

  She backed out of the fireplace. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  With her breathing slightly irregular, she left the kitchen and jogged up the steps to the parlor, looking for any excuse to get away from his invisible hold on her. Even though she couldn’t see Ryan, Emma felt him following her.

  “Where the hell are your men?”

  Before she could even think, she snapped back, the rage from before overwhelming her again. “They’ll be here when they damn well get here.”

  “You have no control over your workers.”

  “Don’t start your bullshit again, Ryan. My men respect me even if you don’t.” She stormed out the door and onto the street.

  He slammed the door behind her.

  ***

  Ruby floated in the corner near the ceiling, unseen, unheard, but ticked off as all hell.

  Furious, she dropped to the floor, walking around the debris and tools. With a surge of anger, she slapped a putty knife off the workmen’s table, surprised when it flew across the room.

  Damn it! She should have realized as soon as she smelled the musk there would be trouble.

  She wasn’t alone in her plane of existence. She’d known that, but had held out hope she could avoid an unwanted reunion by staying close to the kitchen.

  Now she was incensed and went searching.

  “I know you’re here. I can feel you.” She searched the parlor floor, but found nothing.

  When Ruby had the same results on the first and second floors, she levitated through the wood planks to the master bedroom. How fun to be able to float, and what an incredible time saver. In the large chamber, the musk virtually attacked her, the scent stronger here than any other part of the house.

  “You might as well show yourself.”

  From the corner of the room, a dark red mist seeped through the cracks in the walls, twisting and swirling until it formed the shape of Hilary Smith. Tall and slim, she had towered over Ruby in life. With sharp features and gray hair pulled into a severe bun, she still appeared to be forged from steel, but being semi-transparent had a tendency to take the edge off a bit.

  Ruby smirked. “Well, well, look who’s here. And I don’t believe anyone buried you in a fireplace, did they?”

  “Leave my home at once,” Hilary demanded.

  “I was given the option to leave. Were you not offered the same?”

  Hilary floated over to the window and stared in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge. “I did not want to go.”

  “You were not asked to.”

  The steel woman turned back to her, the hatred in her gray eyes undiluted by time and a new plane of existence. “Even if I had been, I would not have gone.”

  “I know what you’re doing, and I want you to stop it right now.”

  “No, I know what you are doing, and I will not let you, not this time.”

  “Emma and Ryan were meant for each other. Why do you care if I show them that?”

  “Because you want it. Because they released you. For those reasons alone I hate them.”

  Hilary’s words saddened Ruby. “Such anger, even after all these years.”

  “Do not look upon me with pity. Remember what it got you last time?”

  “Ah, yes, a hundred years walled up in a fireplace.”

  “You will do well to remember that.”

  “Oh, come now, Hilary. You can’t do anything to me.”

  “How dare you call me by my given name.”

  Ruby smiled, and the room lit up with a bluish hue. Oh, my! Was she doing that? “There are no classes in the afterlife, Hilary. We are equals now. You can’t kill me and get away with it again.”

  “No.” It was her nemesis’s turn to smirk. “But I can hurt them. I can do things I could not before.”

  Ruby hadn’t known a ghost could experience trepidation until that moment. The light she emitted turned from a lovely sapphire blue to gray. “You can’t hurt them. I won’t let you.”

  “Don’t be so sure. You just witnessed it. I can change their moods in a heartbeat, make them unreasonable and angry.”

  “They are good people. They don’t deserve this, especially Ryan—he’s been through so much.”

  Hilary circled Ruby like a cat circling its prey. “I was fine when they arrived, even happy, hoping they would be the ones to finally bring my beautiful home back to life. But then they released you, and you started with your old tricks. Your matchmaking.”

  “I’ll leave them be, if you promise to do the same.”

  Hilary shook her head. “You have no choice. I heard what you said to The Light when it came for you. You asked to stay until that man and the chimney sweep recognized each other as soul mates. If they never do, you cannot move on.”

  Ruby took a deep breath to brace herself. Yes, she must do this. They had set her free. She couldn’t let them down. “Then I will stay, but you must promise to not interfere with their lives.”

  “No! Ryan and Emma released you. Therefore, they will be punished.”

  “They had no idea.”

  “I do not care.”

  Ruby shook her head. “You never learned forgiveness in life, so you bring your anger with you in death. Your pride has brought you nothing but suffering for all eternity.”

  “As long as I am in this house, I will not suffer.”

  At the sound of the garden door opening, the red mist grew thicker, larger, swallowing Hilary before it disappeared from whence it came.

  Ruby descended through the floors to find Emma and her crew preparing to w
ork. There are ways you can suffer, Hilary, even in this house.

  ***

  Later that afternoon, Ryan made his way down to the kitchen, grumbling as he kicked a bucket of tools that had the nerve to get in his way.

  “Someone must’ve gotten a bad burger for lunch.”

  He grimaced. He hadn’t seen Tag crouching in the corner, unrolling electrical wire. John Taggart Nelson was the electrician, and too damn astute for his own good. He was also one of Ryan’s closest friends.

  One of the only friends he had left.

  “More like a bad morning.” Ryan reached into his tool belt for his scraper.

  “It’ll get better.”

  “How do you know?”

  “’Cause it can’t get any worse.”

  “Don’t bet on it.” Climbing the ladder, Ryan attacked the old paint on the brick of the west-facing outer wall. “Have you met the chimney tech?”

  “Are you kidding? A gorgeous woman like that and you think I’d wait for her to introduce herself?”

  His teeth ground as he clenched them. Why did it bother him that Tag seemed interested in Emma? If his day kept going like this, he wouldn’t have any teeth left. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  He and Tag were only a few months apart in age, but Ryan felt and looked years older. His friend, not a bad-looking guy, would have no problem attracting the tech’s attention.

  Tag stroked his chin. “Oh, so that’s it. You’re horny.”

  “I am not.” Even to his own ears, he sounded too adamant.

  “Methinks the gentleman doth protest too much.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Hm, resorting to foul language. Definitely not like you. Perhaps the woman brings out the dickhead in you.” Picking up the wire stripper, Tag started pulling apart wires.

  Resting his arm on the top rung of the ladder, Ryan sighed. “Okay, I’ll admit she stirred something in me.”

  “In you or on you?”

  “In me.” With his thumb and middle finger, Ryan rubbed his suddenly tired eyes.

  “Ah, and now you’re taking it out on her.”

  “When I first saw her, it reminded me of what I’ve been missing the last few years.”

  The electrician studied his tool as he walked over to Ryan. “You’re the only one who thinks you need to do without.”

  “C’mon, Tag. My head is screwed up. I can’t inflict that on anyone else.”

  “Why? Because Julie couldn’t handle it, you don’t think anyone else can?”

  The mention of her name was like a knife to his gut. Julie. The love of his life. The woman who’d walked out on him when he needed her most. “I wouldn’t ask her to. Especially someone I might have a relationship with.”

  “So, when you saw Emma, you thought relationship?”

  “I was being hypothetical.”

  “And I was being observant.”

  “Just back off.”

  His friend shrugged. “In that case, I’m asking her out for coffee.”

  God, he wanted to put his fist through a wall, or his friend’s head. It didn’t matter which. “Go for it, buddy.”

  Tag stared out the window as if he’d find his next words of wisdom carved into the trunk of the tree outside. “It’s been almost four years since Julie dumped you. Maybe it’s time to get over it?”

  With a new surge of energy, Ryan returned to his scraping. “I got over Julie leaving years ago. It’s the why I still have trouble with.”

  “Maybe it’s time to get past that, too.”

  “Yeah,” he said softly. “Easier said than done.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Tag asked, “Did you happen to see who the lead mason is?”

  Michael Cromwell. Someone else from his past who’d deserted him when he needed him most.

  “I saw him, but they’d just found the body. I didn’t think the time was right for an awkward reunion.”

  “No time like the present.”

  He hated it when Tag made sense. With a sigh of resignation, he stepped from the ladder. Might as well get it over with. “Where is he?”

  “Master bedroom, I think.”

  Ah, yes, the master bedroom. The room where everyone gushed over the magnificent view.

  A view he couldn’t enjoy.

  When he entered the room, he found Emma admiring the Brooklyn Bridge though the large picture window. His jaw clenched again.

  As long as he avoided that window, this was Ryan’s favorite room. The fireplace needed new tiles around the opening, but the mantel was still in good shape. He hoped the chimney techs could save it. A large, gilt-framed mirror took up the space between the mantel and the crown molding. The silvering on the back of the mirror was worn and antiquated.

  Ryan was thrilled Mrs. Morris wanted to keep the mirror just the way it was. It gave the room a mysterious feel, as if looking into the shadowy glass would reflect the ghosts of the past. Unlike the other rooms, which smelled of sawdust and paint thinner, this room held a pleasant hint of musk.

  Ryan’s eyes never wavered from Emma as she meandered from the window to the fireplace. The sensual way she ran a finger over the tiles surrounding the mouth of the firebox made him fight to keep from panting.

  God, what he wouldn’t give to be a piece of ancient marble right now.

  “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.” A deep male voice startled him out of his thoughts.

  Ryan had been so engaged with Emma, he’d forgotten the reason for his visit to this room. He extended his hand to Mike. “How have you been?”

  “God continues to bless. It’s been a long time, Ryan. Too long.”

  His heart warmed at the sincerity in his former friend’s eyes. “Yes, it has been. How are Yolanda and the kids?”

  “All good. Yolanda is expecting again. She’s due in a few weeks.”

  “Congratulations.”

  Then tension rolled in like fog in a B-rated horror flick. Emma cleared her throat and grabbed her toolbox. “Mike, when you’re finished, meet me in the kitchen.”

  She left. Ryan offered Mike a tight smile. “I better get back to work.”

  He fled the room, hot on Emma’s heels. He met up with her in the narrow staircase.

  She stopped and turned to him. “Did you want something?”

  “Yeah, I want something.” He descended the steps and turned, bringing them eye to eye. He moved in close. It would be so easy to just kiss her right now, let her know without words all the crazy thoughts running through his head.

  His gaze lowered to her lips and then traveled back up to her eyes. “I want the kitchen liner in place by the end of the day.”

  He turned around and sprinted down the steps.

  The days of him charming women were over.

  ***

  Emma hurried up to the roof, her head still reeling from her encounter with Ryan on the stairs. She hated that all he had to do was look at her and she had to fight not to drop to her knees.

  Man, she really needed to go on a date.

  She pushed the roof hatch open, anticipating the peace she sought.

  Instead, she found Carlos standing a few yards away, looking down over the ledge and using a sixteen-foot flexible chimney liner as an exaggerated phallus. He held the end of the stainless steel tube against his crotch and wiggled his hips. “Come on, be my baby for a night. I know you can make my dick cry.”

  Bart sat on a nearby lounge, stomping his feet in laughter.

  Emma climbed through the hatch and crossed her arms tight against her chest. “Ahem.”

  The liner dropped to the tarred roof with a muffled clank. Carlos spun around and fumbled with his shirt when he saw her. “Oh, hi, Boss Lady. Discúlpeme. I no did see you there.”

  “That much is obvious.” Emma hitched a brow. “What are you doing with that liner? We won’t be sinking it from up here.”

  Scuffing his work boot against the tarred roof, Carlos chuckled. “Bart bring it up and told me
to make the jokes to the passing women.”

  She shot Bart an annoyed look. He rewarded her with his patent-pending, shit-eating grin.

  Emma shook her head. “It really worries me how far you’ll go to get a laugh.”

  “Hey, we have to keep you on your toes,” Bart said.

  She stepped closer and spoke in a low, even tone. “I’m only going to say this once. If I ever see either of you perpetuating the stereotype of a construction worker again, you’ll be out of here faster than a flame through creosote. Are we clear?”

  Both men lowered their heads. “Yes, sorry, Emma,” Bart said.

  Carlos nodded. “Lo siento.”

  “Good. Lunch is over, guys. I’d like to get this liner done before we call it a day. In the meantime, I’m going to check the cellar coal bin to see what repairs need to be done.”

  “You want me to go?” Carlos asked.

  “No, I’ll check it out. You take that liner downstairs and get it installed.”

  Emma made her way to the bottom-most floor. She was slightly annoyed with her employees’ behavior, but at least they’d gotten her mind off the G.C.

  “Hi, Emma.”

  She stopped at the top of the cellar stairs and smiled at the electrician. “Hey, Tag.”

  “I’m glad I ran into you. I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee later?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but why should she? Just because a certain general contractor made her want to buy knee pads?

  Screw that!

  “I have to get home to my daughter.”

  He suddenly looked like a kicked puppy. “Oh. Maybe some other time then?”

  “Why don’t you come over for dinner?” What the hell? Why had she just done that? She’d only met the man last week.

  Oh, relax, Emma. It’s dinner, not a swingers’ party.

  The smile he gave her made him look even more god-like. “Sure, that sounds great.”

  He took her hand and brought it to his lips. It tingled. Well, damn, maybe dinner wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  Happy to have something other than Ryan to think about, she got back to work.

  Halfway down the stairs to the cellar, the damp, moldy air enveloped her. It was eerily quiet, except for the distant shouts of the working men and music.

  As soon as her booted foot touched the dirt floor, goose bumps rose on her arms. She made her way over to the coal bin.