by Lowe, T. I.
~~~~
We arrive in Savannah before eleven and Greyson immediately parks in a vacant lot and starts pulling me in a hurry down one of the town’s historic streets.
“What’s the rush?” I ask behind him as he is close to a jog.
“We’ve got to get in line or we’ll never get in for lunch.”
“Where?”
“Mrs. Wilkes Boarding House,” he says in a rush as we turn a corner.
“No, Stone.” I grumble when I spot a long line down the sidewalk. I have a feeling this is where he wants us to eat. “I don’t even like eating enough to stand in a line for it.” I try to pull my hand from his, but Greyson just tightens his grip.
“You’re eating with me so go ahead and stop whining about it.” We get in the back of the line and wait well over an hour. He’s fine and dandy with it, because by the time we can see the door of the four story brick building, he has a half dozen new best friends. Some are even booking the midnight ghost tour just so they can hang out with him some more. That’s Greyson.
Once we are finally allowed in, I whine some more. We are set at a large table and are being served family style with a group of strangers. Bowls and dishes of all sorts of country fair cover the table along with glasses of tea. I scan the dishes for something in the not thousand calorie range and only find tomatoes and pickles. Before I can select those items, Greyson grabs my plate and starts filling it with fried chicken, potato salad, collard greens, rice and gravy, and cornbread. He does this, completely ignoring my protests, as he chats up every person at our table as if they are his closest family members. He plops a few tomato slices on my plate as an afterthought before returning it to me. He then turns his attention to his own plate. It’s twice as much food as mine by the time he’s done loading it down.
After he sets his plate down, he asks to lead the table in a prayer. Of course, they all agree for they have fallen head over heels in love with him. He pulls his silly fishing hat off and reveals a messy mop of dark-blond hair that looks to be styled. The man always looks flawless and it doesn’t escape my attention that the little brunette sitting at our table can’t seem to look away from him. Greyson Stone is a magnet of pure beauty—inside and out.
The meal stretched for over an hour, and so Greyson agrees to walk me around and do some shopping to help settle that huge meal. I cleared half of the plate he made me and I feel right miserable with him seeming smug about it. By the time the late afternoon comes around, Greyson has us settled at a nearby campground and declares it naptime so that we will be good to go for the midnight ghost tour.
I watch him stretch out in his bed and he breathes out a long sigh of satisfaction. I stand by the door for a while, just enjoying the view, but then I give in and crawl next to him and drape myself across his side. I feel him stiffen.
“This might not be a good idea,” he murmurs as he looks down at me.
“I can behave myself, if you can, big boy,” I sass as I lay my head back down on his chest. He seems to relax and eventually his breathing evens out in a slow rhythm. He pulls me closer in his sleep and I let the lullaby of his heart sing me to sleep.
I’m not much of a nap taker, but cradled in the comfort of Greyson’s arms I couldn’t help but snooze the entire evening away. I wake to a dark room and find myself alone though. After getting my bearings, I scoot out of the lonely bed and find Greyson sitting at the table with his journal. I stay by the door and study him as he has his head bent to the book and is fervently writing. This man does everything so passionately. I watch a pucker form along his forehead as though maybe he’s not pleased at what he is writing, but then in the next instance it’s disappeared and replaced by a faint smile. He sets the pen down and closes the journal, and then he bows his head and whispers a prayer that only God can hear. My heart skips at the sight of this intimate moment and I feel like an intruder all of a sudden until he raises his head and smiles at me. Those green eyes are glittering and his face is a bit flushed.
“You okay, honey?” I ask him. There just seem to be so many emotions running through him.
“Absolutely.” Greyson stands and walks over to me. He wraps his arm around me briefly and places a kiss on my temple before heading to the bathroom. “I’m going to shower.”
“Okay,” I mutter, watching him close the door behind him. “What was that about?” I whisper to myself. I’m half tempted to nose through the journal entry, but it’s none of my business. I leave him verses, but never read anything. They are his personal words and I feel they are not mine to read.
I scoot into the chair and wait for him to finish. I find myself looking around for Fifi. Then my heart squeezes when I remember she is in South Carolina. I miss my girl. Only one month and she’ll be back with me, I reassure myself.
“All yours,” Greyson says and startles me out of my thoughts. He’s still got a grin planted on his face.
I brush past him and absently head to the bathroom. My thoughts are with the reality that the end of the road trip is coming up faster than I want. I strip down and pull the shower door open. I don’t see it at first until I’ve already gotten the water going. I look up to the shower head and a fit of screams leave me at finding a bat perched on top of it. I slam out of the bathroom and am jumping up and down in the main part of the RV. I’m still screaming when I see Greyson coming from the bedroom laughing.
I slap him hard several times. “That AIN’T funny!” I shout as I hop around.
His laughter has vanished and now he is staring at my naked body, and all I can think is that’s what you get! He snaps out of it and slams his eyes shut. “I didn’t think this through,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
“I got a good mind to just walk around like this for a while. That’ll teach you!” I yell at him.
He turns around for good measure. “I just wanted to get you in the spirit of the night ahead.” He’s back to laughing. “I got you to say ain’t.” He fist pumps the air in victory. “You are so prissy.” He then mocks an impersonation, jumping around and fanning his hands all prissy and squealing in a girl voice.
I slap him on his back. “Go get your little toy out of there or I’m not going tonight.”
He turns back around and heads to the bathroom with his eyes firmly squeezed shut. I have to laugh while watching him with his hands out like a blind man.
We board an ancient black hearse that has an extended roof so that we are elevated. There are a total of nine idiots going along on the ghost and graveyard tour tonight. Several faces are familiar from lunch earlier at Mrs. Wilkes. The little brunette has claimed a seat near Greyson. I watch as he politely smiles at her and a satisfaction courses through me when he clearly turns closer to me and away from her. He’s kind, but lets his actions be completely clear to her. Greyson Stone is mine! I pull his hand in mine smugly.
The tour guide is a zombie with greenish-gray skin that’s peeling in certain spots. He is dressed in tattered chauffer garb complete with the hat, and Greyson made him an offer for the hat on the spot. The zombie said they would talk at the end of the tour about that. Even the living dead cannot resist the charms of Greyson Stone. The gruesome guide sort of attacked me right when we arrived. He hounded me until he deemed me too blonde and declared I would not have enough brains to fill him up. Of course, Greyson got a kick out of this. I did not.
We are all tucked inside the hearse that was actually used to haul the dead back in the late nineteen fifties. This fact has the desired effect and now I am completely creeped out before we even start.
“We are going to begin this little party by heading over to the Gribble House. What better way to start the night than with a triple murder?” With this, the zombie cranks up the radio that is playing none other than “In the Midnight Hour”. How appropriate…
He creeps the hearse along in an unhurried fashion until we are parked in front of a dark warehouse. “This is the site where three women were murdered at the hands of an estranged husband. An axe was thought to
have been used with the beatings and two women met their demise by a slit throat. I hear all the time hell hath no fury greater than a scorned woman, but seems to me maybe a man scorned doesn’t need to be overlooked.” He slowly rolls the hearse to the farther edge of the creepy warehouse. “The house was torn down subsequently. The realtor couldn’t get one taker for the bloody home.” He tsks as he pulls away.
Next, the zombie pulls up at this grand four-story brick building with rows of windows lined with green shutters. Gas lanterns cast shadows along the exterior and I find myself holding Greyson’s hand tighter.
“This is the Marshall House. It is a haunted hotel, but they promise that most of the ghosts are fairly friendly. Built in eighteen fifty-one, the Marshall House was occupied by injured troops in the mid eighteen sixties and used as a hospital. Documents recorded that the winter was brutal during that particular time, and the ground in Savannah was frozen solid. Those doctors had to get inventive, so they commenced to burying amputated arms and legs under the floorboards in the patient rooms. You gotta give them docs a hand for thinking fast on their feet.” He eases the hearse a little farther down the road as we gaze at the haunted hotel. “It’s a nice place to stay. Just keep your feet under your blankets. Ghosts have been known to creep around tickling guest’s feet.” He cranks the music up and we are now listening to “Somebody’s Watching Me”.
The zombie chauffer drives us all over Savannah to haunted place after haunted place. I’m totally creeped out by the time we park at a spooky graveyard. The zombie instructs us to get out. He gives the spiel about the history but I’m too spooked to listen. I’m clinging to Greyson like my life depends on it, plus it’s more chilly than I thought it was going to be on this early October night. Greyson kept telling me to grab a jacket, but I didn’t listen, thinking jeans and a thin long sleeved shirt would be sufficient.
Greyson slides his coat off and helps me pull it on. “One of these days you think you might learn to listen to me?” he asks while nipping my earlobe playfully. He gently pulls my long hair from under the jacket collar.
“Probably not, honey,” I warn.
“Listen up, you humans. You have thirty minutes to explore and make it back out of the graveyard maze alive or I’m leaving you here.” The zombie then drags his left leg while making his way back to the hearse. The guy hasn’t broken character once tonight. He’s quite good at being a zombie.
Greyson grabs my hand and starts pulling me towards the gated entrance. “Umm…I think I just want to stay here,” I mutter.
“With the zombie?” Greyson cuts his eyes at me skeptically.
“Good point,” I say even though he has already begun pulling me inside the graveyard. The guide wasn’t wrong with calling it a maze. I feel like we are lost immediately. Paths weave in and out of the graves in all directions. The place is spooky as all get out with mossy trees and fog casting an eerie vibe all around. We pass creepy statues of angels and animals, but the creepiest is of a little girl sitting on a bench. It’s like she is watching me.
“If that girl hops off that bench and starts chasing me, I’m just gonna fall out dead on the spot,” I whine, clinging to Greyson for dear life. He does as he did with the scarecrow back in Tennessee and gives the evil little statue plenty of space as we pass.
“I think I’ll join you. She’s downright creepy.” He pulls me along and then it seems we get turned around at some fountain.
“Please don’t make us walk past that girl again,” I whine some more.
“No worries,” he mutters as he studies the paths.
“We’re lost.”
“Nah,” he says, but doesn’t seem so confident on that.
I hear some animal wail out in what sounds like misery somewhere in the fog. “What was that?” I now have my entire body secured to his side.
Greyson doesn’t answer me, just keeps walking. I look around the tombs and they look ancient. The weather has erased most of their identifications. The fog is rolling in and whirling around in an undulating fashion and I swear I see someone glide past us in it.
“I’m ready to go, Stone. I’m over this. Please…” Before I can keep begging something flashes by my feet and I scream out with all my might.
“It’s just a cat. Chill, Julia.” He rubs my arm, trying to calm me down.
“What’s with you and all of this creepy stuff, anyway?”
“It just adds to the adventure, don’t you think?” He laughs out like this is funny. But then a hand clamps him on the shoulders and he screams out like a little girl. I would have laughed at him, but I’m too busy screaming myself. We take off running like we are on fire.
We run along the winding paths until we are back near the gate. I’m about to shoot through, when Greyson grabs me by the waist and drags me close to him. He’s breathless and laughing as he pins me against the stone wall. He keeps laughing until he’s not. Now his hands are exploring my hips and his nose is skimming along my neck. And it feels like he cannot get close enough to me. I’m close to losing myself in this man. It’s both scary and exhilarating at the same time.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” I ask. My patience is running out.
He places his lips to the skin of my neck, causing me to shiver all over.
“On my lips,” I clarify, even though I know he understood me the first time.
“I want to… So bad…” He pauses to kiss my neck again—damp and hot. “I’m scared,” he whispers hoarsely in my ear and it makes me ache. “Julia, if I kiss you, I’m scared I won’t be able to stop. I’m so in love with you, it scares me. I don’t want to start something on this trip only to not be able to keep you at the end of it.”
He leans back so he can meet my eyes in the dim night light. I feel tears swimming in my own. I want to tell him not to be scared, but then I would be lying. I’m scared myself. We stare at each other for a few beats longer. Greyson cups my face in his gentle hands and brings my face so close to his that I think he’s changed his mind, but then he speaks, causing the tears to spill from my eyes.
“I’ve survived a lot in the last couple of years. So severe that the doctors didn’t expect me to survive. No one did… I beat the odds and so here I stand. But I know beyond anything that there is no way I would be able to survive losing you.” His thumbs wipe the tears from my cheeks. “I love you, Julia Thorton.”
“I love you, Greyson Stone,” I barely whisper out.
Before we can continue, the horn beeps, causing us both to jump. Greyson kisses me on my forehead before releasing. He pulls me close to his side and walks us out to join the others back at the hearse.
We make it back to the RV after three in the morning. Some of Greyson’s new friends wanted to go out for a super-early breakfast. Of course, he said yes. Even the zombie joined us. I swiped Greyson’s phone and snapped a picture of him sitting beside the zombie, whose name is actually Robbie, with his phone. Funny, I know. I kept teasing him by calling him Robbie Zombie. In the pic, Greyson is wearing his newly acquired chauffeur’s hat with two tall stacks of pancakes set in front of them. I text the pic to his parents with the caption – Look at the company your son is keeping these days, xoxo Julia. I hit send and looked up to see Greyson watching me.
“Please tell me you didn’t just text that to my parents.”
“Yeah. Why?”
“It’s two in the morning.”
As he said this the phone pinged with two messages.
It’s way past you twos bedtime – from his mom.
Then his dad text – What she said.
I looked up from the phone and found Greyson’s hand held out so I handed it over. After he checked the message and sent one in return he pocketed the phone. He looked at me sternly with those green eyes, and I could clearly see the irritation in them.
“Sweetheart, it’s never a good idea to text this time of the night to the parents of a guy in remission.”
“I didn’t think… I’m so sorry.” I instantly felt like
an idiot.
“No worries. I’m sure they are over their heart attacks and back to snoring.” He had forced a smile, but I still saw the ticking of his jaw. I’m still floored he mentioned such in front of these new friends. Greyson never talks to anyone but me about his cancer.
Just as quickly as the tension had appeared, it disappeared when Greyson launched into a lame zombie joke. Why did the zombie ignore all his new Facebook friends? He was still DIGESTING all his old Facebook friends! Everyone laughed and I planted my composed pleasant face on while everyone dug into their mile-high stacks of pancakes. When Greyson polished off his stack, I slid my untouched plate over to him. He didn’t harass me about eating as usual so I knew he was still upset with me. I have no idea what all Greyson and his parents went through during those two years with him being sick and the impact it has made on them. It’s obvious it is more than I can comprehend.
I’ve just slid on my nightshirt and am standing by my bed. I hear Greyson settling down in his bed and I can’t help but go to his room. I stand by the door nervously. I’m still spooked from the tour. I hear all kinds of weird noises and see things that I know aren’t really there. But my imagination just isn’t having it.
“I’m scared,” I say and bravely go in and climb on the bed. As I lay down, I hear him sigh deeply.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t sleep all the way out there by myself.”
“All the way out there? Seriously? You are right on the other side of my wall. Stop being a wimp, Thorton.”
He’s trying to tough love me but tough. It’s not working tonight. I don’t move, so he starts trying to shove me out of his bed. I quickly cling to him. “This is your fault. I’m staying,” I demand as he keeps wrestling with me.
“After the naked dance earlier, I just don’t think I can handle this.” He grunts the words out while he tries pushing me away again, but I’m holding on like Velcro.
“Again, your fault. You’re just going to have to suck it up because I’m staying.”