We Interrupt This Date

by L. C. Evans

  “Looks like we’ll be here for a while.” Jack pulled the cover off the sofa and settled himself on the nearest cushion. “Might as well get comfortable.”

  “Might as well.” I wanted to scream. What kind of fate had led to me getting locked in a haunted attic with a man who’d made it clear he liked me about as much as he liked poison? Could have been worse. What if T. Chandler had driven up from Atlanta for my ghost touring debut and he’d been the one who’d come up to the attic with me? I shuddered.

  “You okay?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m fine.” I set my lips in a thin line and plunked myself down on one side of the couch. “Please tell me you have your cell phone with you.”

  “Don’t you think I already thought of that?” He shook his head. “I left it in the car. Besides, I forgot to charge it, so it wouldn’t have done us any good. But what are you worried about? I’m sure your mother and your sister will need you any minute for one disaster or another and they’ll send out a search party when you don’t show up to sort things out.”

  I jerked my chin up. Now he was the one being bitchy, only he was a man, so it was no doubt called something else, like leadership or strength of character.

  “No, they won’t. First of all, you’re being unfair. I already apologized for the other night and I told you I’m not letting Mama and DeLorean rule my life anymore. So why are you even bringing that up?”

  He shrugged. “True, you did. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been sarcastic.”

  “Thanks. And second of all, I was planning to go to Virginia tonight, so they won’t be expecting me home until Sunday evening, by which time…” I stifled a sob. “by which time I’ll be a basket case, especially if there really are ghosts in this stupid attic.” I narrowed my eyes to peer at a pale patch in a corner and concluded it wasn’t a ghostly mist, but just lighter paint on the wall.

  He turned in my direction. “Aw, Nic. There aren’t any ghosts. I’m more worried about hunger and thirst, though I’m sure we’ll survive until Sunday evening when someone lets us out after you don’t return on time. Meanwhile, let’s make the best of things.”

  “Oh, sure, when life hands you lemons, just make lemonade.” My voice shook. “Do you have anything else useful to say, Mr. Happy Face, or can I just wrap myself in the furniture cover and try to stay safe?”

  “You didn't happen to pack your pockets full of crackers or store any provisions up here for emergencies, did you?”

  “Of course not. It wasn’t as if I planned to spend more than a few minutes in this stupid attic. Ever.” A tear rolled down my cheek before I could stop it. “I don’t know why I’m being so emotional about this. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault we’re trapped.”

  “I know. I guess I meant I’m sorry about blowing up at you the night I had the flat tires at that motel.” Funny how I couldn’t get that night out of my mind. No, not funny. Wanting Jack to still be my friend even after we’d clashed over a stupid family crisis meant I had some kind of feelings for him. Even someone who was as romantically dense as DeLorean said I was could figure that out. And I had.

  “You’ve already apologized, remember? You’re sorry, I’m sorry, we rub each other the wrong way and all that.” Deep man sigh--most likely indicating frustration followed by sad acceptance.

  “I know, but it’s only that we’re in danger and who knows what will happen and I wanted you to know how I felt. I didn’t mean to get so angry with you that night, but you didn’t get it. Only it wasn’t you who didn’t get it, it turned out it was me.” Normally I would not have blabbed all this, but who knew if we’d ever get out of here? By Sunday evening we could have been taken captive by ghosts. Could they do that? Why hadn’t I paid more attention to Patty’s ramblings? But I had to stop torturing myself with horrible what ifs or I couldn’t possibly stay sane.

  “What are you saying, Nic?” Jack didn’t sound nearly as upset as I was.

  “I was mad because I liked you and I wanted us to stay friends, but I thought you didn’t understand about families and how they should help each other.”

  “Why would you think something like that? I have a family, too.”

  “I don’t know. I guess because I wasn’t making any distinctions between real emergencies and going overboard. That’s all I have to say. I apologize for—well, for everything.” I grabbed part of my dress and twisted it into a tight knot.

  “Hey, Nic, you’re just a bundle of sorries tonight, aren’t you? Want me to break out the apology violins?” He pantomimed a violinist playing with elaborate bow strokes.

  I glanced down at the floor and when I looked up again he was grinning and he’d somehow crossed the space between us on the couch without seeming to move. And somehow I’d ended up in his arms and then I was sobbing on his shoulder.

  I fumbled a tissue out of my pocket and wiped my nose. I hated it when I cried, but it seemed all I did was gush like a stupid tear fountain.

  “Are you saying you’ve changed your ways after all these years?”

  He stroked my hair. A shiver went through me. More than a shiver. He’d awakened feelings I hadn’t had since--forever. I pulled away from him while I still could and then I wished I hadn’t.

  “Pretty much. And, Jack, if you still want me to—I’d like to be your friend and go back to your new house with you and, I don’t know, help you decorate your den?” I sniffled.

  That was as close as I could get right now to admitting my true feelings about him. If he turned me down, at least he wouldn’t know I felt rejected and embarrassed.

  “Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse. Every man should have a stylish den designed by his best friend.” He lowered his head and kissed me. After a while—a long while, we pulled apart. We were still way over in each other’s personal space. Jack was breathing hard and his face was flushed.

  “Wow,” I said. “So much for our famous lack of mutual attraction.”

  “Not attracted? Woman, don’t you know the story about lack of chemistry was nothing more than a face saving rumor I started years ago to explain the fact that the cool and popular Jack Maxwell couldn’t get Nic Marsh to go out with him?”

  “Idiot. I was dying to go out with you. And as I recall, I accepted every time you asked.”

  “Then why didn’t we have one single date?”

  “You know why. It wasn’t my fault that there was always a family…” I trailed off.

  “Mama needed help in the kitchen and DeLorean needed help with her homework and the world was going to fall apart unless good old Susan took over and fixed things.” He shook his head. “Do you realize that every time we were supposed to go out, you had to cancel because of your family? What was I supposed to think? From my point of view you spent all your time thinking of ways to not go out with me.”

  “That’s not true.” I swallowed hard.

  Not exactly. But it wasn’t only my devotion to my mother and sister that had kept me from keeping my dates with Jack, I knew that now. There was my own fear, the fear of rejection and the fear of loss I’d never admitted to myself until last week. With T. Chandler the commitment hadn’t mattered because some part of me knew he wasn’t the one. But with Jack—well, it would have hurt too much to lose him, so I never let myself have him to begin with.

  “It sure seemed that way. Imagine how I felt.” He tenderly wiped away a tear that was spilling down my cheek.

  “I promise I’ll never let that happen again.” My voice sounded low and husky. I drew a shaky breath.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not saying I want you to abandon your family.” He locked his gaze on my mine.

  “I know.”

  ”So while we’re busy apologizing, I’m sorry, too. I should have been more understanding, instead of making you feel like you had to choose between me and your family. Truce?”

  “Buddies forever.” I slid my arms around Jack’s broad shoulders and kissed him.

  It was ano
ther long kiss. Finally he drew back and said, “Uhmm, I had something else in mind. Something stronger than buddyhood and you’re in agreement if I read the signals right.”

  “You did.” I kissed him again.

  Hours later, after we’d explored the chemistry between us, we snuggled together under the cloth that the workmen had used to cover the couch. Jack dozed off and on for the rest of the night, but I couldn’t sleep. Someone had to keep watch for ghosts.

  When the sun finally rose, I could tell it was morning by the dim light slanting in through the dingy windows at the front of the attic. I thought about tapping on the glass in the hope of alerting a passerby, but given the house’s reputation, people would likely think I was a ghost and run away screaming. We got up and searched the attic again, hoping we’d missed something last night, a secret exit or maybe a battering ram we could use to break open the door.

  Hopeless. The place couldn’t have been any more secure if it had been Alcatraz in its heyday.

  Jack and I would have to resign ourselves to waiting until Sunday when Mama and DeLorean got worried after I didn’t return. I hoped they started their worrying early.

  But I hadn’t counted on Patty and her tarot cards. Thanks to Patty, the rescue party—Veronica, Patty, and Kyle—arrived Saturday morning.

  “Don’t dare let that door swing shut again,” I said to Kyle after he forced his way in. Veronica called out and then came up the stairs into the attic to see if Jack and I had survived the night.

  “You don’t have a thing to worry about. Kyle’s going to fix it right now, so this will never happen again.” She shot me an inquiring look. A grin slowly formed on her face and then she winked at me. I felt a blush warm my cheeks.

  “Let’s go,” I said, waving her back toward the stairs and then getting to my feet. “I do not want to spend one more minute in here.”

  “You sure about that?” she teased.

  “I’ll bet you didn’t see or hear any spirits, did you?” Patty said in accusing tones when we got back to the kitchen.

  “I’ve told you a thousand times I am not the least bit psychic. Zero. Zilch. Anyway, thanks for saving Jack and me. How did you find us, anyway? I mean, no one even knew we were missing, so they weren’t going to look and prospects for a quick rescue looked pretty grim.”

  Kyle had followed us down after fixing the lock and now he picked up the cup of coffee he’d left on the counter. “Patty’s tarot cards.”

  “Really?” I turned to Patty. “I’ve never actually believed in your tarot readings, but what can I say? Other than thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I mean, it’s miraculous almost. If I hadn’t driven into town to buy new tarot cards and seen your van parked here next to Jack’s car when you were supposed to be in Virginia, I never would have figured out something was wrong and called Veronica. The tarot doesn’t lie, Susan.”

  “Evidently not.”

  After all, even if the rescue by tarot was questionable, Patty’s cards had told her weeks ago that Jack was my destiny. I put my hand in his and squeezed. He squeezed back. I knew it was going to be a long time before I wanted to let go.

  L.C. Evans

  Connecting readers with other worlds

  Biography:

  L.C. Evans loves to write. She grew up in Florida and now lives in North Carolina with her husband Bob, their grandson--the Boy--and their three or four Chihuahuas. Occasionally there is a sighting around their home of a certain neurotic cat that may or may not be a part of the Evans household. Ms. Evans loves to hear from fans. Contact her at:

  Lcevans@lcevans.com

  Another book that might interest readers of We Interrupt This Date:

  Take the Monkeys and Run by Karen Cantwell

  Product Description

  Film lover Barbara Marr is a typical suburban mom living the typical suburban life in her sleepy little town of Rustic Woods, Virginia. Typical, that is until she sets out to find the missing link between a bizarre monkey sighting in her yard and the bone chilling middle-of-the-night fright fest at the strangely vacant house next door. When Barb talks her two friends into some seemingly innocent Charlie’s Angels-like sleuthing, they stumble upon way more than they bargained for and uncover a piece of neighborhood history that certain people would kill to keep on the cutting room floor.

  Enter sexy PI Colt Baron, Barb’s ex-boyfriend who would love to be cast as new leading man, filling the role just vacated by her recently estranged husband, Howard. When Colt flies in from out of town to help Barb, events careen out of control and suddenly this mini-van driving mother of three becomes a major player in a treacherous and potentially deadly FBI undercover operation. It’s up to her now. With little time to spare, she and she alone, must summon the inner strength necessary to become a true action heroine and save the lives of those she loves. The question is can she get them out alive before the credits roll?

  From Publishers Weekly

  This fun if light novel’s quippy, hilarious narrator, Barbara Marr, has so much warmth and genuine gumption, you’d certainly want her on your criminal investigative team. The spunky Virginia housewife and mother of three is almost at the end of her rope — her hunky husband, Howard, has left her; it’s her 45th birthday; and she’s just discovered three monkeys living in the trees in front of her house. “Life was pretty sucky” as she puts it. But while investigating the curious case of these monkeys, a bit of unexpected adventure shakes things up just the right amount. In a warm-hearted, deftly observed comic-farce-meets-mobster mystery, Barbara and her friends from her quiet suburban neighborhood, Peggy and Roz, stick their noses into the business of a deserted house down the street and find themselves caught up in some off-the-wall FBI business that hits way closer to home than they could have imagined. Perhaps a bit goofy at times, this is nevertheless an outright treat: diverting, funny and fast-moving. -- This text refers to the manuscript reviewed as a part of the 2009 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Thirteen