“All we need is white and we have ourselves some very patriotic ghosts.”
“Ryan, focus.”
He threw his hands in the air, erasing his finger math. “I’m sorry. I’m just finding this whole ghost thing a little hard to swallow.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I know. What we need is…” Instead of finishing her sentence, she grabbed the phone.
Five minutes later, her doorbell rang.
“Hey, sweetie.” Sheila held out her hand for Emma to shake.
She yanked her inside. “We need you.”
“We?” Her gaze fell on Ryan, half hidden behind the open front door. “And who are we?”
Emma closed the door and pulled Ryan in front of her friend. “Sheila, Ryan. Ryan, Sheila. He works with me at the brownstone.”
“Oh, really?” Sheila blew him a kiss before Emma could stop her.
“No, no, he’s not a sweep. He’s the general contractor.”
“Oh.” Sheila looked rather deflated. “Oh, well, it can’t hurt, can it?”
Ryan shook his head and backed away from the short redhead.
Emma took the arms of both her guests and led them to her office. Ryan flopped down on the sofa while Emma and Sheila sat at the computer.
“Okay, I’m going to say this as concisely as I can, and then you can give your opinion,” she said to Sheila. “And for the love of God, I do not want to hear the words I told you so.”
After showing Sheila everything from the first pictures she’d taken to the EVPs they’d recorded earlier that day, she sat back and waited for the outburst.
Instead, her neighbor sat forward looking rather perturbed. “I can’t believe I missed them.”
“What?”
“I saw those pictures the day you started, and not once did I see anything in them. You even commented on the shoddy photography, and I remember jokingly hinting at there being a ghost in the house.”
“No one is saying there are ghosts in the house,” Ryan interjected.
Sheila shot him a look of disbelief. “So what do you think this is? The work of clever mice and rogue bats?”
“No, but there could be a very logical explanation staring us right in the face. Only we don’t see it because we’re getting caught up in the romance of the house being haunted.”
Emma lowered her head in her hand. “I find nothing romantic about mysterious voices on a recorder saying my name.”
“Or being tripped by a wild satchel.” Sheila rewound the recorder and listened again. “I can’t believe how clear these EVPs are.”
“What exactly is an EVP?” Ryan asked.
Sheila turned off the recorder. “Electronic voice phenomenon. It’s a voice you can only hear with an electronic device.”
“That makes sense.” Ryan leaned his head back on the sofa and let out a long sigh. “And that’s what you think this is?”
“I think the house is haunted by two ghosts.”
Emma flipped through the pictures again. “Two? Why not three?”
Sheila sat up straighter. “Okay, let me know if I have any of this wrong.”
They both nodded.
“When you see a mist, it’s the reflection of the spirit’s nature. The gray mist reflects sadness. Dark blue is compassion, love, and, purity, and red, when concerning a ghost, is evil.”
“So we have a sad ghost, an evil one, and a good one?”
“Not necessarily. You told me on the first day the house intrigued you, but it felt sad and called out to you to return it to its former glory.”
Ryan shook his head and said to Emma, “Does she remember everything ever said to her?”
“Her mind is like a steel trap,” Emma said out of the corner of her mouth and then, to Sheila, “Yes, that’s right.”
“It wasn’t until after you found the body in the fireplace that the house seemed angry. Even the property owner said so.”
“Right, so you think I released this evil spirit when I knocked down the fireplace wall?”
“No, remember when you asked it why it hated you, it said ‘because you released her.’ I believe that spirit was with you from the beginning but didn’t turn angry until you released the good spirit.”
“How do you know the blue and red mists aren’t the same being?” Ryan asked.
“Because a gentle soul can never turn evil, not after death.”
“But it can be sad,” Emma pointed out.
“Yes, in fact it’s more likely to be sad.”
“But from what you’re saying, the red mist was originally gray. So maybe the gray mist in the picture by the window is the same as the red mist in the basement.”
“Right. I think what happened was in life that soul leaned more toward bad than good but wasn’t completely a lost cause. It could have been self-centered or maybe died with sin on its conscience.” Sheila studied the photos and spoke her thoughts out loud. “For some reason, this spirit did not want that body found.”
Emma rubbed her temples. “So blue is good, red is evil, and gray could be one or the other being sad?”
“Correct.”
“What about, say, gold?”
“Gold is very special. It’s a heavenly body on earth.”
“Well, that’s pretty cool.” While she still wasn’t sure about any of this, she found her friend’s knowledge fascinating. “What about white?”
Sheila grinned. “Only God has that aura.”
“And black?”
Emma and Sheila turned to Ryan at his sudden question. He’d been rather quiet until then.
“Black is…nothing.”
“What do you mean, nothing?” he asked.
Sheila shrugged. “Meaning it’s not good, it’s not bad, it’s not neutral. It’s the absence of everything.”
Emma searched through the pictures until she came across the ones in the cellar of the battling mists. “What do you make of these?”
Sheila studied them for quite a while before she finally said, “It looks like red is becoming blue or the blue is becoming red.”
“Can that happen?” Ryan asked.
Sheila shook her head. “No, not that I know of. Unless…”
“Yes?” Emma prompted.
“Unless they’re two separate beings and one is trying to overpower the other.”
Ryan scoffed at the idea.
Emma ignored him, finding it extraordinary a migraine wasn’t brewing. “That would make sense since one seems to hate me and the other cried out for me to help. Bottom line, what do we do?”
Sheila let out a long slow sigh. “You have two choices. Either you find someone else to finish the work on the brownstone—”
“Not gonna happen,” Emma said vehemently. Ryan was noticeably quiet.
Sheila nodded as if unsurprised by Emma’s outburst. “Or, you find what the good spirit is looking for.”
“What good would that do?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t know. At this point, your ghosts know more than I do.” Sheila got to her feet. “I’ve been gone longer than expected. I better get home before Hank sends one of the kids over. Then you’ll never get rid of us.”
Emma stood as well. “Thanks for coming by.”
Following her friend to the door, she opened it and gave her a hug.
“Emma, just…” For once in her life, Sheila seemed at a loss for words. “Be careful, okay?”
She watched to make sure Sheila made it home and then closed the door. Turning, she gasped with her hand to her throat, surprised to find Ryan directly behind her.
He was looking everywhere but at her, his hands tucked into the back pocket of his jeans. “I’d better go too.”
“Okay.”
Their eyes locked. Emma stood breathless, wondering if he would kiss her again. Would she let him? Did she even want him to?
It probably was a bad idea. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why Ryan had kissed her in the first place. The man didn’t even like her.
That boggled her mind more than anything.
“I’m going to say goodnight to Nicole.”
Emma waited for him at the door, trying not to feel hurt. It’s for the best. Ryan had no interest in her. She’d better get used to the idea.
After a few moments and a loud, booming “awwwwwwwwwww” from her daughter, Ryan returned.
“It’s been an interesting night, huh?” she said, and then wanted to kick herself at the intense look he gave her. “I mean, ghost-hunting-wise.”
“Yeah, it’s been very interesting.”
She opened the door before she could say anything more.
He stepped over the threshold and turned to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with a wave he was gone.
After closing and locking the door, Emma slowly made her way to the family room, looking for the source of her comfort. She found her on the chaise lounge, a book cradled in her lap.
“Hey, pretty girl, time for bed.”
Nicole stretched and wrapped her arms around Emma’s neck. “I asked Ryan if he would tuck me in, but he said he wouldn’t dare take such a wonderful job away from you.”
“He’d better not.” She walked with her daughter to her room. After a quick story and a lot of hugs, Emma finally turned off the light.
“Mom?”
She paused in closing the door. “Yeah, baby?”
“Ryan gives off warm fuzzies.”
Emma licked her suddenly dry lips. “Yeah, he sure does.”
***
The clock read twenty after two, and Ryan was still struggling to keep his mind off the events of the evening. He didn’t have the time or the energy to sift through the range of emotions he felt, but after several attempts to read the same ghost hunter’s Web page, he gave up. He’d wanted to stay up and read. There had to be an explanation for what was going on. To believe otherwise was too alarming.
After shutting down the computer, he went to the kitchen and gulped down a glass of water.
What the hell was the matter with him? How could he have lost his head like that? Kissing Emma was probably one of the dumbest things he’d ever done, and he’d done a lot of dumb things.
Guilt seeped into every bone. He was ashamed he’d betrayed the only friend who’d stayed with him through the worst time of his life. He knew Tag had feelings for Emma, and yet he still kissed her and touched her in a way no man should touch another man’s girl.
She and Tag had only dated twice, but that didn’t matter. He’d done the unthinkable.
It wasn’t fair to Emma either. She wasn’t immune to him, of that he was sure. No woman could kiss like that and feel indifference.
That didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, it was a thousand times worse. Knowing that one day she could have had feelings for him made him ache inside.
If only he had stood up and been a man. If only he had told Tag from the beginning, “Hey, back off, she’s mine.” If only he hadn’t let his fear of relationships get in the way, he might be spending the night with Emma.
No, he wouldn’t. What he felt for her wasn’t like that. Sure, he wanted to make love to her, but he needed more than that. Like courting, bouquets of roses, and the sickeningly sweet gifts love-struck men buy for the women whose hearts they’re trying to win. Besides, he couldn’t spend the night, not with her daughter there.
Nicole.
What an amazing kid. And that gesture she’d made regarding his brother. God, it’d almost reduced him to tears. He’d always wanted kids, and if they were anything like Nicole, he’d have had a lot of them. But those dreams had died five years ago.
She deserved better. They both did. He knew if he explained things to her, Emma would understand. At first. But eventually she’d start to resent him for being a total fuck-up. His night terrors would horrify her and Nicole. Ultimately, she would leave him.
Just like Julie did.
Ryan had to keep his distance from her, but for now, just this once, he’d allow himself to sleep and dream of what could have been.
When he awoke the next morning, he realized that—for the first time in a long time—the sun had risen without any screams of horror disturbing his peaceful night.
As he prepared for work, anger coursed through him. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate fuck you to his life? To meet the woman who held the cure for his horrors in the palm of her hand, and not be able to have her?
Chapter Eleven
EMMA DROVE to work with bats attacking her stomach. Normally she’d call them butterflies, but butterflies were too gentle, too graceful for what she was feeling right now. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. She told herself it was because a mad-nasty ghost didn’t like her. That would keep anyone awake.
Oddly enough, thoughts of being sucked into a paranormal vortex hadn’t bothered her.
It was one stupid kiss.
Okay, so she was a bit more nervous about seeing Ryan this morning than Casper the unfriendly ghost, but really, who could blame her? She had kissed a man who had run from her house the first opportunity he got. He was also the best friend of the man she was dating. God, what Ryan must think of her.
Relax, Emma, you didn’t force yourself on the man. He was the one who kissed you.
That’s right, he did! So maybe this was a good thing. Was it her fault Tag didn’t make her blood boil like Ryan? She wished things were different. Tag was certainly more approachable and a lot less moody. He was fun and kind. Nicole only liked Ryan better because he was comfortable with kids.
Maybe she should just give up on the whole idea of a relationship until her daughter went to college.
Oh, sure, look for the easy way out. She’d been doing that a lot lately.
Perhaps she reacted to Ryan the way she did because of his involvement in all the crazy things going on in the brownstone. Yes, she’d bet a week’s worth of mochas that was why she wanted to devour the man. It made sense too.
Determined, she walked to the job site, resolved to pretend nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. As if that kiss had never happened.
“Hey, pretty lady.”
Giving Tag a brilliant smile, she jogged up to meet him on the steps. “Hey there, handsome, you’re here bright and early.”
Leaning down, he kissed her cheek. “I was hoping I could earn brownie points and take you out for coffee.”
Emma paused for only a second. “I’d like that. Let me go tell Ryan where I’ll be.”
“No need to worry about that, my dear lady—”
“My dear lady?” Bart shouted as he walked up the street toward them. “Are we to speak this way today?”
Emma snickered. “No, we’re just talking about going for coffee.”
“Oh, please, dear Boss Lady, I so wish to converse as an honorable workman from Queen Victoria’s time. It would be befitting with the house. I shall recite Shakespeare as we mend thy broken dwelling.”
Both Tag and Emma had tears welling in their eyes, they were laughing so hard. “That kind of talk was during Queen Elizabeth’s time, not Victoria’s,” Emma said.
“Nevertheless, I shall henceforth fetch my hammer and nails.” For some odd reason, Bart pirouetted up the stairs.
“You don’t use a hammer and nails to build a firebox,” Emma said, horrified.
Bart looked shocked, with his hand against his throat. “Dost thou not use them to hold the bricks jointly?”
“I’m going to find Ryan and tell him to keep an eye on this guy.” Chuckling, Emma went to scale the rest of the steps.
Tag caught her arm. “That’s what I was trying to tell you before we were interrupted by the Bard here. Ryan is on another job site today.”
Emma’s heart plummeted into her work boots. “He is?”
Her face must’ve been an open book. As Tag studied her, his expression hardened. “Yes. Why? Is that a problem?”
A problem? Yes, it was a fucking problem! Why wasn’t Ryan at the job site? Did it have anything to do with the kiss? Or
did he think she was crazy now because she believed ghosts haunted this house? Was he avoiding her the way she was tempted to avoid him?
Fine. Let him be that way. She didn’t care. Emma surrounded herself in flippancy. “I’m just surprised. He’s been here every day since we started.”
Tag’s stance stiffened even more. “True, but he does have other job sites he needs to keep an eye on. You should know that better than anyone, considering you’re also a business owner.”
Yeah, but if he had other job sites, she didn’t know about them. Emma descended the front steps, but when Tag didn’t follow, she stopped and looked at him quizzically. “Aren’t we going out for coffee?”
“That depends.” He walked down until they stood eye to eye, his face reflecting uncertainty. “Is something going on I need to know about?”
Emma tried really hard to keep her gaze steady but found herself staring at his throat instead. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean, but as far as I know, everything’s fine.”
He nodded as he moved to the sidewalk, his stance slightly less stiff. “Okay. Come on, I’m sure you’re dying for a mocha. It must’ve been at least an hour since your last cup.”
Smiling tentatively, still unsure of his mood, Emma put her arm through his. “Lead the way.”
“There’s a very nice place on Montague Street. Is that okay?”
She smiled brightly. “Perfect.”
“You don’t mind walking, do you?”
“Art thou kidding me? Not even for a delicate sip of café would I relinquish the premium parking space I managed to procure this day.”
Tag relaxed during the walk to the coffeehouse. His natural good humor returned, and they talked easily together. As they found a seat in the crowded café, Emma sipped her mocha and studied him.
He really was a sweet man, handsome, successful, and always with a ready smile. But he liked being the center of attention, something she’d noticed the other night when he’d had dinner with her and Nicole.
He’d caught her off guard with the way he’d acted earlier, as if jealous. They had only gone out on a few coffee dates, dinner at her house, once—it wasn’t like they were committed to each other.
Probably nothing to stress over.
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