He grasped my waist and stared down at me, eyes wide as if trying to search for the answer on my face.
“Baby or no baby?”
My grin widened and I stood on tiptoe, wrapping my arms around his neck. “No baby.”
Relief relaxed his face, and he let out his breath on a heavy sigh. Collapsing against me, he held me tight, resting his forehead against mine.
“Thank God,” he whispered. “Not that I don’t want to have babies with you someday, but—”
“I’m right there with you,” I assured him. “I was prepared for whatever, but this is a huge load off.”
“On a side note,” he added. “I’m also relived that I don’t have to worry about your dad trying to kill me.”
I laughed. “Yeah, you would definitely have been in danger.”
He silenced my laughter with a kiss, tightening his arms around me and straightening until he lifted me off my feet. He kissed me so thoroughly and for so long that some of his frat brothers started honking their horns and yelling for us to get a room.
Never taking his gaze off me, Tate held up one hand and flipped them the bird. That just made me laugh again, harder than before.
“I’m glad you’re not pregnant, because there’s still so much I want to experience with you before we get to that step,” he murmured.
“You mean like solving haunted lake mysteries and diving for dead bodies?” I joked.
He chuckled. “Maybe … but you know, other stuff, too. Graduate, start our careers, get married, buy one of those old southern Victorian-style houses and fix it up together.”
Sinking my fingers into his thick hair, I sighed. “That sounds amazing. I want all those things, too. And to make sure we don’t have any more scares like this, I’m getting on the pill as soon as we get back to Atlanta … just to be safe.”
“Good idea,” he said. “Speaking of which … if you’re not pregnant, why do you think you’re so late?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Stress, I guess. We’re going on seven days here, and nothing. I’m usually like clockwork. It should have started March fifth.”
Tate frowned. “How many days are there between periods?”
“Twenty-eight to thirty,” I replied. “I’m usually more like thirty. Why?”
“Because if that’s the case, then you’re not late. You should be scheduled for March seventeenth.”
“Um, I think I know more about my period than you,” I argued.
“Okay, look,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening the calendar. “I remember you being on your last one, because that sociology paper was due … on February sixteenth. The day before that was when you threw the stapler at me, and I brought you the cupcakes as a peace offering. Factor in that last month was February and it’s a leap year … thirty days would land you at March seventeenth.”
Glancing down at his calendar, I frowned, finding the note he’d made about his paper being due … on February sixteenth.
“Oh, God,” I groaned, smacking myself in the forehead. “I am so stupid.”
Tate laughed. “Not stupid, just tired from a stressful semester. So, there you have it. Another mystery solved. Courtesy of Holmes and Watson.”
I scowled when he pointed at himself first, then me, indicating that I was Watson. “I think you got that backward.”
Looping an arm around my shoulders, he began leading me down to his car. “You’re the one who forgot her own period timing. Holmes doesn’t forget stuff like that.”
Grudgingly admitting he was right, I let it go, separating from him to slide into the passenger seat. He cranked the car while the others began pulling out to head to the diner.
“Someday, we are going to have a big laugh over this,” he said, glancing up in the rearview mirror.
I turned to look at him and smiled. “Someday… I like the way that sounds.”
Keeping one hand on the wheel as he pulled in behind our friends, he reached out with the other to lace his fingers through mine.
“Me too, Bell,” he murmured. “Me too.”
***
That night, I found myself unable to go to sleep, despite having spent the entire day outdoors enjoying my last full day at Lake Blackshear. Jet skis and swimming, followed by barbeque, a volleyball game, then dinner. Some of the guys were still hanging outside, finishing off the last of the beer they’d brought, but Tate and I had turned in early, planning to leave for Atlanta first thing in the morning. He had another paper to write, and I had a test to start prepping for.
Yet, while I lay there staring up at the ceiling, something just wouldn’t let me sleep. I couldn’t explain it, but the sudden need to leave the cabin struck me.
Sitting up in bed, I nudged Tate, who had only just started dozing off. “Tate, wake up.”
“God, not again,” he groaned. “Bell, we already dealt with one ghost this trip … can we not get involved with another within hours of us going home?”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not it. At least, I don’t think it is. But I do have a feeling we need to walk down to the lake.”
Raising his head from the pillow, he made a face at me that indicated he wasn’t too happy. “This better be good.”
Turning to leave the bed, I slid my feet into a pair of flip-flops. “You know you aren’t going to let me walk out there alone in the dark. Quit complaining and let’s go.”
Following me from the bed, he grabbed his own flip-flops and trudged behind me out of the cabin.
“I don’t know how to feel about this intuition superpower you seem to have,” he grumbled as we weaved through the trees and made our way toward the lake. “On one hand, it’s responsible for breaking my curse. On the other, it causes me to lose a lot of sleep.”
“It’s not exactly a walk in the park for me either,” I countered. “I want that sleep as much as you do, but I’m telling you, something is out here that we need to see.”
Slipping his hand in mine, Tate nodded. “I believe you.”
We continued our walk in silence, eventually breaking through the trees and approaching the bank of the lake. We were several yards away from where the police had taped off the crime scene, and we were able to walk right up to the water’s edge.
For a long while, we simply stood there, staring silently out at the lake. The weather had cooled a bit, and heavy clouds blocked out most of the light.
“What are we waiting for?” Tate whispered.
Suddenly, it seemed a cloud moved at just the right moment to allow the moon to shine down on the lake. And on the surface of the water, I spotted the wavering silhouette of something moving toward us.
“That,” I whispered back, raising my hand to point.
We watched as it came toward us slowly, seeming to float on the air just above the water like a cloud. Coming closer, it revealed itself to be a person—or rather, the ghost of a person.
Her skin was still pale white, but the dark veins and blue lips had gone away, leaving her smooth and unmarred as she paused just before her feet touched the bank. Her sundress and dark hair fluttered and moved around her as if teased by the wind, and her mouth was turned into a soft smile.
The half-moon pendant hung from around her neck, the light of the moon glinting off the silver.
“It’s Amy,” I whispered.
Just like Isabella and Camila Vasquez—our ghosts from Baldwin House—had looked after we’d found justice for them, Amy looked happy and whole … at peace. She stood silently for a moment, staring at us with that smile on her face.
Then, she began walking again, her gaze focused somewhere beyond us—some place we couldn’t see. Tate and I parted to make room for her, watching as she walked between us and kept going, deeper and deeper into the trees until her white glow faded altogether and she disappeared.
Sighing with relief, I turned to Tate. “See? Told you we needed to see that. Amy’s at rest now, and hopefully, Brandon will get what he deserves.”
Nodding in agreem
ent, Tate took my hand again and began leading me back to the cabin. “I’m glad we came out. I’d rather remember her that way, instead of the way we found her body.”
“Me too,” I agreed.
“And just so you know,” he added. “If I ever give you crap again about minding our business when a ghost needs our help—you have my permission to slap me upside the head. I’m glad we have this gift, or whatever it is. I don’t think we’d have it if we weren’t supposed to do something with it.”
“Glad you see it my way,” I teased, nudging him with my shoulder. “Next time, I hope it doesn’t interrupt our vacation. I feel like I need a break from spring break.”
As we walked back to the house, I glanced over my shoulder to see if I could get another glimpse of Amy. But she was gone, which I took to be a good sign. Souls at peace remained at peace, and they had no need to bother with the living.
"If you loved Bellamy and the Haunting, please tell your friends about my book and consider leaving a review. Reviews are like potato chips; you can't ever have enough of them. Thanks for reading my book!" ~Alicia Michaels.
Ever since she first read books like Chronicles of Narnia or Goosebumps, Alicia has been a lover of mind-bending fiction. Wherever imagination takes her, she is more than happy to call that place her home. With several Fantasy and Science Fiction titles under her belt, Alicia strives to write multicultural characters and stories that touch the heart. V-Card, the first book of the Sharing Spaces series, was her first Contemporary Romance.
The mother of three and wife to a soldier, she loves chocolate, coffee, and of course good books. When not writing, you can usually find her with her nose in a book, shopping for shoes and fabulous jewelry, or spending time with her loving family.
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