Ghost Planet

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  Murphy asked to meet with key members of the group the next morning, so we could come up with some kind of plan. Then he reached for my hand and led me home.

  * * *

  “I need some real food, Murph—”

  As we walked into our apartment Murphy suddenly turned, closing the door and pinning me against it. He pushed my arms above my head, trailing kisses down the side of my face and neck.

  “Mmm,” I murmured, arching against him. “Forget food.”

  He gripped under my arms, lifting me against the door, holding me in place with his body. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

  But before I could kiss him, he said, “I’m going shopping. Get cleaned up if you want to, and then I want you to lie down and relax while I make dinner.”

  “Oh, I like the sound of that. How did I get so lucky?”

  “You must realize we aren’t going to have time to breathe once all this gets started. We’ve never had a proper night together—or even a proper date.” His thumb brushed my forehead, and he leaned forward to murmur in my ear, “I came very close to losing you today. I feel so alive, Elizabeth, and wide awake. I want to show you I take nothing for granted.”

  I swallowed hard and answered with a breathless “Okay.”

  He laughed at me and eased me to the floor. “There may not be much selection. Anything that doesn’t sound appetizing right now?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Ghost biscuits.”

  “No ghost food for my girl, ever.”

  I grasped his shoulders, pulling him close again. “You’re sure you don’t want to lie down with me, just for a few minutes?”

  Murphy bent again to my ear. “Oh yes, we’ll come to that. But I mean to do this properly. And I mean to take more than a few minutes.”

  He moved away from me and I thought I’d slide into the floor. Hard to stand when your bones have been reduced to gelatin.

  Lavender

  The water that came out of the showerhead was several degrees shy of civilized, and it was more a steady trickle than a spray. My shower took about twice as long as it normally would. Murphy returned before I finished.

  As I wrapped myself in a towel, I heard a gentlemanly knock on the sliding door and pushed it open.

  I smiled at him. I’m pretty sure I glowed at him. It was one of the happiest moments of my life—including my Earth existence. Feeling myself falling for him. No longer afraid, because after all we’d been through I trusted him with my life. Anticipating the evening he had planned, knowing how it would end. Knowing I would wake up in his arms. I thought about the moment I discovered I’d detached, and I was glad no one could force me to choose between that moment and this one. But the truth was, that moment had enabled this one. If it hadn’t been for detachment, I wouldn’t be feeling so relaxed and open to him.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi yourself. Your lips are blue.”

  “Water’s not very warm. Come make me not cold.”

  He slipped into the bathroom and folded me in his arms. Sighing, I curled into his chest.

  His hands slid down to my waist, then lower, and he groaned. “You’d better get dressed or there’s not going to be any dinner.”

  “You might find me amenable to postponement of dinner…”

  “No, no, no. Here…”

  He released me and stepped out of the bathroom, returning with a stack of neatly folded clothing. “I hope everything fits. I noticed my aunt’s things were a bit snug on you … so I tried to find the same size.”

  I hardly noticed the joke in my excitement to have clean clothes—clothes that didn’t have the blood of at least three people on them. “Oh, I do love you.”

  His grin settled into a bemused smile. “Careful. If you keep saying that I might start believing it. What will you do then?”

  I felt the color rise to my cheeks and glanced down at the clothing. “Where did you get this stuff?”

  “The most central of these buildings is a common area. There’s a pantry, a clinic, and a couple of storage rooms for tools and supplies. Hank said the clothes are all cast-offs Garvey collects from the colonies.”

  That reminded me we hadn’t yet talked about what had happened with Hank. “Murphy, when I touched Hank’s hand earlier—”

  “I felt it too,” he nodded. “Though I don’t think as intensely as you did. You’re shivering, love—why don’t you get dressed and come out. We can talk about it in a while. I want you to have a chance to rest before dinner. You don’t get to rest after.” He winked at me as he left and I fought an impulse to bolt after him.

  Cast-off but clean, the clothes made me feel human again. While Murphy showered, I stretched out on the bed as I’d been instructed, dozing a little until he came out again. Then I watched him make dinner in the ridiculously limited kitchen.

  My fingers played along the tops of the lavender stalks that now ensconced the bed like a giant, fragrant hand. Intermingled with the lavender were pale pink blossoms that looked like wild rose. I rolled onto my side, examining the flowers—fat, pink stars with yellow bursts at the center. I plucked a few and worked them into my hair. Then I broke off some lavender and rubbed it between my fingers, letting the tiny buds fall over the blanket.

  I glanced up to find Murphy watching me, his lips curving in a quiet smile.

  “What?”

  “Shall I tell you what I’m thinking? It’s going to embarrass you.”

  I knitted my eyebrows, already embarrassed. Maybe I looked like an idiot with plants sticking out of my hair.

  “You’re beautiful, Elizabeth. I’ve never known a woman so … obliviously sexy.”

  “Uh…” It was a lame way to reply to something like that, but my breath was stuck. When I worked up the nerve to look at him again, he’d turned his attention back to our dinner, but his lips still held the smile.

  Now I watched him, and I realized he’d changed into fresh clothes as well—drab cargo pants and a close-fitting long-sleeved shirt—dark blue. Perfect for intensifying the light blue of his eyes.

  He bent to set the table and I said, “I think you do that on purpose.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Possibly. What are you talking about?”

  “Wear that color.”

  Glancing down, he asked, “What’s wrong with this color?”

  “Oh sure, play innocent.”

  He studied my face a moment. I saw the flicker of understanding. “It’s a good color.”

  “I think you might be trying to seduce me.”

  “Well, obviously. But the color was just lucky.” Turning back to the stove he added, “This time.”

  I smiled and let my head fall back on the pillow. I had no intention of sleeping—I didn’t want to miss a moment of this. But I closed my eyes for just a second, breathing the clean, soothing fragrance of the lavender, and the next thing I knew he was kissing me awake. I opened my eyes in a room illuminated by candles.

  “You let me go to sleep,” I accused.

  “That was the point,” he said, laughing. “Are you hungry?”

  “Mmm, starving. But kiss me some more first.” I slipped my arms around him and pulled him close.

  “You’re a handful, do you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  He gave me a couple of warm, silky kisses that set my heart galloping, and then he pulled me up from the bed.

  “What have you been up to in here?” I inhaled deeply. “Where did you get rosemary?”

  He grinned over his shoulder. “It’s growing in the cupboard. Right out of your ghost biscuits.”

  “It is not!”

  “Thyme too.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll never starve.”

  “I don’t know about that. Unless we can grow some potatoes. Or leg of lamb.”

  He set a plate down in front of me. Chicken in some kind of rich sauce, over rice. “Did you put lavender in this too?”

  “I did. Is that okay? I thin
k you’ll like it.”

  “I’ll love it. You’re a genius.”

  He brought a bottle to the table and I watched him pour wine into two glasses. “There’s not much of this,” he said. “Maybe half a case. It’s not exactly essential, so that’ll probably be the last of it for a while.”

  I sat turning the glass with my fingers. “I suppose it’s just as well.”

  I could feel Murphy’s eyes on me. He replied carefully, diplomatically, “I don’t think one glass is going to hurt anyone. It’s been quite a day.”

  We fell silent for a while, taking the edge off our hunger. I felt nervous and expectant, almost like it was a first date, and slowed after the first few bites. There was also a lot I wanted to discuss with him.

  “Today in the cave,” I said, “Blake told me Gavin was responsible for his death. Do you know if that’s true?”

  Murphy set down his glass. “Not exactly. They were climbing partners. There was some kind of accident. They were roped together, and Blake’s weight was dragging Gavin over a ledge. Gavin cut him loose.”

  I gaped at him. “Good God.”

  “Gavin believed Blake was dead when he cut the rope, but the ghost Blake complained of nightmares about the accident that suggested he wasn’t. Gavin couldn’t get over it. And Blake became increasingly hostile.”

  “They’re going to need our help when he comes back.”

  “I suspect a lot of the others are going to need help as well. But why don’t you take a break from saving the world and finish your dinner.”

  The man was deadly with a wink. It was the only thing that saved him from retaliation.

  I swallowed the last few bites of my meal and watched him finish. Then I reached across the table for his hand.

  “Thank you.”

  He smiled. “Least I could do after you put up with my moaning the last two days.”

  I squeezed his hand. “No, I mean thank you. You saved our lives. You won these people over. I was so proud of you.”

  “You’re welcome. But I didn’t save or win over anyone by myself.”

  “We make a good team.”

  “That we do.” He brushed his thumb over my fingers. “What do you think happened down there with Hank today? Do you think you connected with her, like you do with me?”

  I shook my head. “It was different. I didn’t feel linked to her like I do with you. It wasn’t an exchange. I just got blasted with emotion. But you felt it too?”

  “Yes. I assume because I was touching you—because we were connected.”

  Pushing my plate away, I folded my arms on the table. “I don’t know … it reminds me of something, and I’m not sure why.” I told him what Yasmina had shared about the transport, and its organic camouflage.

  “You think it might be a result of our bond, like the flowers under the bed?”

  “Maybe a benefit of it, like the healing. Garvey and Yasmina transport contraband and questionable passengers. The camouflage helps them hide from planet security.”

  I continued thinking along this line, but before I’d gotten very far Murphy said, “I think you’re onto something. I see a parallel.”

  “Do you?”

  “We’re therapists. We need to understand what people are feeling—now more than ever, if we’re going to help the people in this camp.”

  “Mmm, that makes a lot of sense. We should play around with it. See if we can figure out if we’re right.”

  “Agreed. Tomorrow. Do you want dessert?”

  “Dessert?”

  Murphy smiled and got up from the table. He came back with a cup of little brown squares.

  I sucked in a breath. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “It’s not ghost biscuits.”

  He held the cup under my nose. “Oh, it is.”

  He set the chocolate down in front of me. “They have a whole crate of it. Apparently they don’t care much for roughing it here.”

  I put one square on my tongue and closed my eyes. Dark and lovely, with a hint of something fruity. “Raspberry.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “More than ever.”

  “Good. It’s all yours. In exchange, I want to talk about you.”

  I cleared my throat. “Me?”

  He nodded. “I have questions.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “First, we’re going to talk again about this ex-fiancé.”

  I choked and grabbed for my glass. “What on earth for?”

  “Because you changed the subject last time, and I’ve never been able to forget it. I don’t want to end up like him, with you crossing a universe to get away from me. I have to consider these things now, and I wouldn’t put it past you.”

  A smile crept over my face. “It’s not likely.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Tell me why you didn’t want to marry him.”

  I took a deep breath. Ate another piece of chocolate.

  “I told you Peter was my first serious boyfriend, right? We broke up and got back together a hundred times. We were used to each other.”

  “Comfortable shoes.”

  “Something like that.”

  “But there must have been something else. You kept going back. Really great sex?”

  He ducked as I flung a square of chocolate at him. But his hand shot up and caught it.

  “Give it back.”

  He laughed in disbelief. “I don’t think so. Maybe. If you’re a good girl and answer my question.”

  “Okay. The sex was pretty good. And it did end a number of stalemated arguments.”

  “Fabulous,” he muttered, handing over the chocolate.

  “We had a lot in common. Shared political views. Loved to watch old movies. He was a good cook.”

  “That would’ve been on the application.”

  “He was no match for you, Murphy.”

  “Would that refer to the cooking, or…?”

  “I’ll leave you to ponder that.”

  “Unacceptable answer!”

  “If you can’t take the heat, love…”

  He grinned at my borrowing of his term of endearment, even mimicking his pronunciation. “I expect you to give me a fair trial, under optimal conditions.”

  “Not if you keep me up talking all night.”

  “Fair enough. Cut to the chase.”

  I frowned. “I guess I always felt something was … off. Or missing. From very early on. I could never define it, for him or myself, so I assumed I was imagining it. Borrowing trouble, you know?”

  He took hold of my hand. “I do know. It was the same with Lex and me.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, that plus the fact we turned everything into a competition. And had horrible screaming rows every night.”

  “Screaming? I don’t believe it.”

  “True, unfortunately. Happened at a family dinner once. Funny, my mother hated her on sight.”

  At first I derived some satisfaction from this—but it led to wondering what his mother would think of me. At least Lex was human. Babies made by Lex and Murphy would get to meet their grandparents and aunties, but ghosts weren’t allowed on Earth. People were afraid we might spread like a disease.

  But this kind of thinking could easily ruin the rest of our evening.

  “So what happens now?” I asked him.

  “What do you want to happen now?”

  “You seemed to have some very specific ideas earlier.”

  “That was when you weren’t so sleepy.”

  “Who says I’m sleepy?”

  He tilted his head to one side, studying me.

  “Could be I’m just very relaxed. If you’re looking for optimal conditions for your trial, I’d say that’s a critical component.”

  “Hmm, an excellent point. If this were your trial, how would you go about verifying your subject is relaxed but not sleepy?”

  He was still holding my hand and I rubbed my thumb over his. “I’d recommend observing your subject in a slee
p-conducive environment.”

  Murphy rose from his chair. I gasped as he bent and lifted me in his arms. He carried me to the bed and gently lowered me. “Will this do?”

  “Yes, excellent choice.”

  “What next? Visual inspection?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t trust a visual inspection.”

  “Inquiry, then.”

  “I’m afraid further inquiry could have a soporific effect. I think you can do better, Dr. Murphy.”

  “I have it now. Close your eyes, please.”

  “Ah, there’s a risk there—”

  “Close your eyes, Miss Cole.”

  I complied, and his hands slid slowly up my sides as he peeled my shirt over my head. Heat flamed out across my abdomen as his fingers moved against my belly. He unfastened my jeans and tugged them down my hips. My underthings were washed and dripping in the shower, so I was nothing but flesh now.

  He grew quiet and still, and I squirmed a little, imagining him staring down at my body in the candlelight. We’d only made love the one time—in complete darkness.

  “Can I open my eyes?”

  “No, you may not.”

  I waited another full minute, and my arms fanned out over the blanket as I sought the hands that must be somewhere close. My hips lifted slightly, anticipating and longing.

  “Murphy?”

  “Are you cold, Miss Cole?”

  My body was trembling, but not from cold. I shook my head, gripping the bedding in my fists.

  I felt something move against my forehead and I tilted my head back. My brow furrowed as I concentrated, trying to identify it. Neither rough nor particularly soft. Not flesh, or cloth. But as it slipped slowly down the bridge of my nose, I smiled with recognition. A spear of lavender.

  The bud head moved down to my chin, caressing my jaw and cheeks. Then it tickled its way down my neck, dipping between my breasts.

  I moaned as it circled first one nipple, then the other.

  My back arched as it traced down my belly, diverting down one leg, shifting to the inside of my thigh before continuing all the way down to the arch of my right foot.

  As the spear started up my other leg, I let my knees fall open. It traced up and down the inside of each thigh, and my hips convulsed in little spasms as it spiraled around each hipbone.