There were too few people in his life he could rely on. Tag had been there for him when he’d needed him most, and he would continue to be as long as Ryan remained just as trustworthy.
Was she worth the risk?
Was anything worth risking his friendship with Tag?
It all came down to which head he asked, but in the end it was his heart that would have the final say.
Chapter Twenty-Three
IT WAS THUNDER. It had to be.
Emma turned over in bed and looked at her clock, which was obnoxiously blinking twelve at her. Apparently the power was back on. She grabbed her Tickety Toc wristwatch and pressed the light button. After three. The weather report said the storms would be over by two.
Getting up from bed, she looked out her window. The moon was clearly visible, save the leftover clouds floating through the night sky. The storms were definitely over, so what had awakened her?
With a shrug, she moved to get back into bed, but then she heard something that sent a chill down her spine.
Ryan.
Screaming.
She grabbed her robe and dashed to the guest room. Not bothering to knock, she flung open the door. Ryan was asleep, bathed in moonlight, but his body jerked as if in seizure, his eyes rolling behind closed lids.
Emma rushed to his side, standing over him, frantic to know what to do.
Was he epileptic? Prone to seizures? God, she had fallen in love with a man she knew practically nothing about.
A horrifying cry burst from him. Whatever he witnessed behind those lids tortured him.
She ran her shaky fingers through her hair, clenching them at the roots. God, she felt so helpless.
“No! Why? Why?” Ryan cried out. Another scream followed. His body stiffened. Tears rolled down his face. He pounded his eyes as if to block out his sight.
“Mommy?”
Emma spun around. Nicole stood in the doorway.
“It’s okay, honey, just go back to bed.”
Instead, she stepped further into the room. “Is Ryan okay?”
“I don’t know.” Emma turned back to the screaming man and took deep calming breaths, willing the trembling to stop. She’d better calm down. Even to her own ears her voice sounded panicky.
“We can’t leave him, Mommy. He’s having a bad nightmare.”
Ryan again screamed. “Colin! Oh, God, no!” Now he was sobbing, crying out for the brother he’d lost, the brother he’d watched die.
Good Lord, had he dealt with these nightmares all these years? No wonder the man looked older than he was. She didn’t know what to do, but one thing was for sure, she wasn’t going to leave him.
It probably wasn’t a good idea, but Emma sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand. He squeezed it tightly.
Nicole climbed onto the other side and did the same thing with his other hand. “It’s okay, Ryan. We’re here with you. No one will ever hurt you when we’re here with you.”
Emma was about to tell her daughter to go to her room. She had no idea if Ryan would unconsciously hurt Nicole, but to hear her own words said lovingly from her daughter’s mouth nearly had her in tears. It also seemed to calm Ryan down.
“That’s right, we’re here with you. You’re safe.” At Emma’s gentle reassurance, Ryan opened his eyes.
Jerking up in bed, he pulled away. His breathing was out of control, his body shaking. Sweat had broken out on his forehead and upper lip. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”
“It’s all over now.” Her daughter stroked his hand. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
His breathing calmed as he looked at Nicole, his hands held tightly in hers. Then he turned to Emma.
She smiled at him. “You heard the girl. There’s nothing to be afraid of now.”
He swallowed hard and snatched his hands away. “I’ve got to go.”
Getting up from the bed, she reached over and picked up her daughter, standing her gently on the floor. “You were such a big help for me, baby, but you need to get back to bed or you’ll be falling asleep in school tomorrow.”
She yawned. “I love you, Mommy. I love you, Ryan. Goodnight.”
When Nicole was back in her room, Emma turned her attention to Ryan. He grabbed his shirt. She wanted to cry out in protest. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted him to stay, in her arms, while she comforted him back to sleep.
“I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”
Emma sat down next to him and put her hand on his knee. “Stay here and rest.”
He lowered his head into his hand. “I’m sorry, Emma. I can’t believe I forgot—” He stared at her, the look in his eyes accusing. “How did you make me forget?”
Levity, we need levity. “I have that effect on people.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, you said that already.” She grinned. “It’s okay. At first you kinda freaked me out, but once I realized what the problem was I knew how to handle it.”
“But Nicole—”
“Yeah, Nicole was devastated. So much so she went right back to sleep—with my favorite stuffed Blue doll—but, anyway, why are you making such a big deal of this? After what you saw—”
“I wasn’t the only one who saw those things, Emma.” His voice was raw and angry. “Lots of people saw what I did, and they went on with their lives. Hell, some even used their experience to make a difference.”
“That’s true, but how many of them were trapped on a rooftop only a few blocks away, knowing when the north tower fell, their brother would die?”
“I don’t know. But people wrote songs, started foundations and support groups.”
“Everyone reacts differently.”
“But they did something I can’t. They moved on. What have I done with my life? Nothing. I refused to join a support group. I refused to talk to anyone about what I went through. I turned my friends away. I’m weak and pathetic.”
Jumping up from the bed, she glared at him, anger making her rigid. “Why? Because you’re human? Because you feel? How dare you judge yourself that way!”
“I’ve done nothing with my life.”
“Bull, you run a successful business. You’re very highly regarded.”
“Yeah? Did you know I once had three or four job sites going at a time? Now I’m lucky if I have two. I lost customers because I couldn’t bring myself to do work in lower Manhattan, or parts of Brooklyn, or New Jersey. Anywhere I could look out and see and remember, I wouldn’t go.”
“Well, you’re working in Brooklyn now. That’s a start.”
“No, it’s not. My nightmares were few and far between over the last two years, but now that I’m working right where I can see lower Manhattan every day, I get them constantly. If nothing else it made me realize I can’t work there. I’m too weak.”
“Stop it! Just stop it! You are not weak.”
Jumping to his feet, he yanked on his jeans. “Yes, I am. I’m a coward.”
“A coward never would’ve run into that house today and saved me from a murderous ghost. A coward would’ve high-tailed it out of there.”
“Believe me, I thought about it.”
“But you didn’t. You saved me. You faced down a ghost and won.”
“That’s only because I’m—”
The look in his eyes made her heart burst. “You’re what, Ryan?” she whispered, stepping closer to him, her eyes boring into his. “You’re what?”
The anguish on his face made her eyes sting. Reaching up, his hand went to caress her cheek, but it never made contact. Instead, he balled it into a fist and turned away from her. “Just get your work done at the brownstone and move on. Forget about me. I’m not worth it.”
Furious, Emma spun him around and slapped his face. He jerked back, raising his hand to his cheek, shocked into silence.
Emma didn’t care. She had plenty to say. When she spoke, her voice was filled with emotion, as if tears could leak from it. “How dare you tell me what you are and
aren’t worth. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were strong. You oozed power and demanded respect even when you didn’t deserve it. So don’t you dare stand there and tell me you’re a coward or that you’re weak. And you’d better damn well stop playing the part, Ryan, because that - and only that - is what makes you look pathetic.”
He stared at her, both of them silent for what seemed like hours. His face went blank. Finally, he turned away and headed for the door.
Emma sank to the bed and let him go.
***
Rubbing the seashell in her pocket, Emma stared up at the door of the brownstone, trying to convince herself to stop being so silly. But how could she when she wasn’t? Inside that house, a spirit intended to do her harm. Sure, maybe ghosts don’t hold a grudge. Maybe it had forgotten about yesterday’s incident.
And maybe she would suddenly become a natural blonde and her ass would shrink three sizes.
She checked her watch. Nearly eleven. She wasn’t used to getting to job sites this late. She’d had an early estimate to do, and really, she simply had to stop and get a mocha. Then she could only find a parking spot about three blocks away. And it wasn’t because she didn’t check. She just knew there wouldn’t be a free space any closer. Then she had to walk slowly. The day was too nice after those dreadful storms not to enjoy it.
She’d sauntered along, sipping her coffee, trying not to count the number of parking spaces in which she could have parked. She stopped not-counting at four.
Now she was here, trying to pluck up the courage to move forward. It didn’t look so scary. There was no reason not to go in. This would be so much easier if Ryan were there.
She glanced around, the knots in her stomach loosening a bit when she noticed his car. Somehow just knowing he was there helped.
Taking a deep breath, she tossed her empty coffee cup into the nearby bin and put her boot onto the first step. Okay, good, she still had her foot and nothing had come flying at her head. Feeling more confident, she ascended the rest of the steps until she faced the entranceway. The door was, as usual, left open.
Just walk through, Emma. What’s the worst that could happen?
Oh, I dunno. I could have a mallet fall down on top of my head?
“Move along, Boss Lady, you’re stopping up the line.”
Emma shrieked when Carlos threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the house.
Huh. No bouncing back, no flying wet saws.
Maybe ghosts had the memory span of a goldfish? Or maybe, just maybe, Sheila’s ghost repellents actually worked?
Carlos unceremoniously put her on her feet and mamboed up the steps to the second floor.
Walking through the parlor, Emma found Mike snapping a chalk line. “Hey, Mr. Mike, how’s things going in here?”
“Okay, I got it!” Mike shouted to whoever had the other end of the chalk line and smiled at Emma. “Did you get those awful storms?”
“Oh yes. We even had a tornado watch posted.”
“Mother Nature was mad last night,” he said as he retracted the string.
She was about to move on when Bart came through the parlor entranceway, hopping and wiggling along with the end of the chalk line in his mouth. It looked as if Mike were reeling in a very large, squirming fish.
Mike burst out laughing. Emma just shook her head and left the room. That man was going to be the death of her.
Up the stairs she went until she heard a voice. Recognizing it as Betsy’s, she hurried up the rest of the way and went directly to the master bedroom.
Emma stopped, only hesitating slightly when she saw it was Ryan she talked to. Emma was no longer angry with him. Unfortunately, the awkwardness wasn’t so quick to leave. Last night, he’d touched her, pleased her, and yet, she still had no idea how he felt about her. Their eyes met for a split second before she turned her smiling gaze to Betsy. “Did you see the treasures we found?”
Betsy threw her hands over her mouth and shook her head as if in disbelief. “It’s wonderful, simply wonderful, all these old heirlooms, the beautiful jewelry, the precious baby things.” She sighed. “Sadly, they don’t belong to me.”
Emma’s jaw dropped. “What? But this is your house.”
She shook her head. “They belong to the Smith family. I just hope I can locate them.”
A warm glow of love for this women welled up inside her. How many people in this day and age would want these precious items returned to their rightful owner? Not many. Most would probably sell them on eBay and reap the rewards.
“I’m sure if you do a search, you could find Nathan and Hilary’s heirs.”
Betsy nodded. “I hope so. If not, perhaps a local museum would like the jewelry. Or I could pass everything on to my family in the hopes that they will remember how all these wonderful treasures were found.”
A thought occurred to Emma that made her feel very guilty. “Um, Betsy, I—uh…”
Both Ryan and Betsy stared at her, confused. “What is it, Emma?” Betsy asked.
She knew she must look like a kid who’d just been caught stealing bubble gum.
“Emma, you look like a child who just got caught stealing a candy bar.”
What was with this woman? She was so shocked by Betsy’s words, the only thing she could think to say was, “Bubble gum, actually.”
Betsy nodded, her eyes showing a tiny bit of unease. “You stole bubble gum?”
With a sigh, Emma adjusted the cap on her head. “No, what I meant to say is, I took something from behind the mirror.”
For a moment, Betsy looked disappointed. “I see. May I ask what?”
“Letters.”
Ryan stepped forward. “We both took the letters.”
“Okay, and?”
Running his hand along the back of his neck, Ryan studied his work boots. Then he looked at his client. “Last night we had a bit of an adventure—”
Sweat broke out above her lip. Her eyes widened, and she tried to shake her head feverishly without Betsy seeing. If he told Betsy the truth about the ghost trying to attack her, Betsy would never allow her to step foot on this job site again.
Ryan’s eyes shifted to her for a second, but he finished his sentence, barely skipping a beat. “And made quite the discovery, as you can see.”
He went on to tell her how they’d found the letters and why they took them to Emma’s home.
“You did say we could carry on with the investigation,” Ryan said.
Betsy smiled. “I did. Now tell me, did you find out anything?”
Emma leaned her back against the wall, fumbling with the clunky jewelry on her wrist. “No, not really.”
“Well, you must’ve learned something from the letters.” She chuckled. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What was it?”
“Just that Hilary Smith disowned her daughters for marrying beneath them. All because of a woman named Ruby Van Leer. Apparently she introduced all three of the daughters to their husbands.”
Betsy’s smile faded, her face paled.
Ryan took her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes. I’m just a little surprised.” But the trembling of her lower lip told another story.
“What’s wrong?” Emma asked.
Betsy opened her purse and pulled out a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes. “Van Leer was my mother’s maiden name.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
THE HAIR on the back of Emma’s neck stood at her client’s words. As far as coincidences went, this was a big one.
“That’s kinda freaky.” Ryan paced in front of the fireplace.
“Oh, it gets freakier,” said Betsy, sounding slightly shell-shocked.
He leaned against the wall next to Emma. “Bring it on.”
Betsy found a seat on a bucket of furnace cement. “My grandfather had a spinster aunt named Ruby. She was a nanny for a wealthy family in this area. She never had any children, never married, but we knew about her because—well, let’s just say, she was unusual.”
“What happened to her?” Emma asked.
Betsy shrugged. “No one knows. She disappeared two days after the blizzard of 1888.”
Why was this blizzard always coming up? Another coincidence?
“Holy mother fucking sonovabitch!”
Emma closed her eyes in mortification at Bart’s loud, very vivid, profanity. “Excuse me.” She bolted from the room.
She found Carlos and Bart standing close together, looking rather cagey in the back bedroom. She walked up behind Bart and swatted the back of his head.
“What the fu—oh, hey, Boss Lady. What’s up?”
“Could you please refrain from spilling swear words for a few minutes? The owner of this house is sitting in the next room, and I can assure you, she will not appreciate your brand of colorful language.”
Bart at least looked horrified. “Golly gee, Emma, I’ll try. But you know me. Swear words just slip out of me, like an unexpected fart.”
Emma raised her face toward heaven. “Give me the strength.” After her prayer, she turned to leave. “Can I at least ask why you felt the need to swear?”
“Oh, Carlos and I had this game going to see who could get your attention first.” He smiled impishly. “I won.”
Running a hand over her forehead, Emma tried not to laugh. “Didn’t I fire you yesterday?”
Bart nodded. “Uh huh.”
With a shake of her head, she headed back to her client. Thinking it might be a good idea to take inventory of the things they’d found behind the mirror, Emma reached into her jacket pocket for her Blue’s Clue’s pen, only to pull out a handful of salt. She studied it, and then, making a fist, headed for the master bedroom.
When she entered, Ryan and Betsy were searching through the boxes again, their backs toward her. Being as quiet as she could, she tip-toed over to Ryan. Acting quickly, she pulled at his front jeans pocket and stuck her hand in.
Ryan jumped, his eyes on the verge of popping out, and whispered, “Emma, what in good God’s name—” He grabbed her arm and propelled her from the room into the hallway. “Would you care to explain why you’re feeling me up in front of our client?”
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