Ghost for Sale (23 page)

“Marcy brought you back a plate.” He threw his arm around me, and we walked companionably to the cottage, my head resting on his shoulder.

“I’m going to write a book, Marcy,” I announced as we strolled into the kitchen. “And tell Liam’s story.”

“I’m sure it will be a bestseller,” she said and poured me a glass of sweet tea. The cubes clinked as she handed it to me.

“Not that kind of book. I’m just going to have a few copies made.” I took the glass and glugged thirstily.

“I’m going home, honey. Call if you need me. Why not stop by this week for dinner?” Dad patted me on the shoulder.

“I will.” Guilt washed over me. I should have gone before.

He kissed me on the cheek and walked out.

“Are you better?” Marcy’s gaze swept over my face, searching.

“It hurts.” I rubbed my chest. “But people don’t die of a broken heart.” It made my jaws ache, but I managed to plaster a smile on my face.

I continued, determined, “I have you and the family. I’ll write Liam’s story. We’ll go to school in the fall. I’ll be fine.”

Marcy opened her mouth. Before she could respond, the phone rang.

“I’ll get it.” She touched my arm, then headed for the phone.

I sank down into a kitchen chair, glad I no longer had to smile. I made wet intertwining circles on the table with the bottom of my glass as I rotated it back and forth.

Marcy popped her head back in. “It’s Clayton.”

I rolled my eyes. “I really don’t…”

She threw up her hands. “You know how he can be. Short of hanging up on him, there was no putting him off.”

“I’ve got no problem with you hanging up on him,” I grumbled. “All right. All right.” I pushed my chair away from the table and trudged to the phone. “Hello, Clayton.”

“Hey, babe, what’re you doing?”

Babe?
“What do you want?” I sank down onto the sofa. I didn’t have the energy to stand.

“I thought we’d take in a movie tonight. We haven’t gone out in a while.”

“I’m not in the mood for a movie.” The abstract on the far wall done in shades of dark blue, black, and gray reflected my mood to a T.

“How about dinner then?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on, you have to eat,” he coaxed.

“I’m in the middle of something.” Or soon would be. I wanted to start my book. I needed a connection to Liam, no matter how tenuous.

“What?”

“I’m writing a book.”

“Really?” Polite indifference came through the phone. Then his voice brightened. “That might be a nice little hobby for you after we marry.”

“Excuse me?” That got my attention. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it before continuing. “Are you insane?”

“Oh not right away.” He went on to outline his plan, ignoring my last statement. “After I get my four-year degree, I’ll be going on to grad school and I need to get established, but in a few years.”

Marcy walked by, sipping on a can of soda. “Pull the plug,” she advised in passing and kept going.

Good advice. I rubbed my head and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to deal with this.
The problem was I never wanted to deal with it. I took a deep breath. “Clayton, I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“What?” The voice on the other end of the phone sounded incredulous. Clayton Bradford III wasn’t used to being dumped.

“We’re through.” There I’d said it.
Finally
. Relief washed through me…for about a nanosecond.

“You’re tired. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“What part of ‘it’s over’ don’t you understand?” I spoke slowly and carefully. Maybe he had a hearing problem I wasn’t aware of. Elbow propped on the side of the couch, I held my head. The headache I’d kept at bay came thundering to the fore.

“Is it the wrong time of the month?”

“I can’t believe you just said that. Goodbye, Clayton.” I ended the call.

“Well, I did it, Liam. You never approved of him anyway, did you?” I spoke to the room at large.

There was no response. I hadn’t expected any, but I’d hoped.

Marcy came back into the room and plopped down beside me. “Did you break it off?”

“There was nothing to break off. We were never an item. But yes, I did.” I rubbed at the hollow spot under my left breastbone.

“You’ve had quite a time of it, haven’t you?” Marcy said.

“Yeah, but I’ll survive. I miss him.”

“Goes without saying.”

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” Marcy hopped off the couch.

“If it’s Clayton, don’t let him in.”

“What about Patrick?”

I shook my head. “I just can’t deal with another man right now.”

“Gotcha.” Marcy headed out of the room. She was gone for several minutes. She stepped back in wearing a curious little smile. “I know what you said, but I’ll take care of this one if you’re giving them up for a while.”

“What are you talking about?” The comment confused me.

She held up a finger, walked out, and came back moments later with a nice-looking young man in tow, her hand on his arm.

I frowned. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Hello, Ms. King.”

“Officer Atwell?” He didn’t have on his blues or I would have recognized him immediately. He wore faded jeans and a button-up, short-sleeved, white shirt that set off an impressive set of pecs.

“I suppose ‘I just happened to be in the neighborhood’ is a bit lame?” He stuck his hands in his pockets, rocked on his heels, and grinned sheepishly.

“A bit.”

“Cuz has a headache, but I for one am thrilled you stopped by, Officer Atwell.”

“Please, call me Ryan.”

“Ryan.” Marcy looked into his eyes, fluttered her lashes, and stepped closer.

Ryan looked bedazzled
.
He cleared his throat. “That’s quite a security system you’ve got.”

Marcy and I looked blankly at each other.

“Thank you,” Marcy said.

“Who lives in the mansion next door?” was Ryan’s next conversational gambit.

Marcy made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “My parents. This is the guest cottage.”

“The guest cottage?” His eyebrows rose.

I swallowed a giggle. If I wasn’t so miserable, I’d be enjoying myself.

“Would you like me to show you around?” Marcy leaned against his arm and gave him her killer smile.

Ryan smiled back. I could have sworn he started to accept before he looked at me questioningly.

“Go right ahead. You’re in good hands.” I waved them on.

They walked out chatting.

Well, well, well, Marcy and the policeman. Wouldn’t that be interesting? I certainly didn’t know Ryan well, but what little I did know I liked. I approved of him for my cousin. And since I couldn’t face any type of relationship, it simplified my life.

I pushed off the couch and headed to my bedroom. Without Marcy and Ryan around, silence closed in on me. It was hard to catch my breath, hard to move one foot in front of the other. I made it to my room and fell face down onto the bed. Depression enveloped me like a shroud. I would work on Liam’s story later. Social interaction had held pain at bay. Now it flooded my system. I closed my eyes, and with no effort at all slid into oblivion.

* * * *

“Caitlin, wake up.” Marcy shook my shoulder.

“Go away. I’ve barely closed my eyes.”

“Caitlin, you’ve been out for five hours. Patrick’s on the phone.”

“Why do you keep making me take phone calls?” I mumbled and put the pillow over my head. “I’ll call him later.”

“This isn’t healthy. Talk to Patrick.” She plucked the pillow off my head.

“Give me a break.” I grabbed the pillow away from her and stuck it back over my head.

“Ignoring everyone isn’t going to help anything.” She grabbed it back.

“Give me some grieving time.”

“I gave you as much as you’re going to get.” Her arms hugged the pillow so I couldn’t grab it back.

“A few measly days, get serious.” I sat up.

“Just talk to Patrick, okay?”

“Sure.” I pulled myself out of bed and trudged to the living room. Why hadn’t he used my cell? I could have ignored that. Then again, he probably had.

“Patrick.” I picked up the phone, slumped onto the couch, and let my head fall against the back cushion.

“Cat, how are you?”

Great. Peachy. How the heck do you think I am? I fell in love with a ghost and he left me
. “What do you want, Patrick?”

“I’ve been worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Concern came through in the warm timbre of his voice. The tight kernel of pain loosened, but it didn’t go away. I doubted if it ever completely would, but there was something about Patrick that always made me feel better. “I appreciate that.”

“How about if I pick up a couple of lattes and come over?”

I hesitated. “Patrick—”

Before I could refuse, he cut in, “I’ll pick one up for Marcy too. What would she like?”

I didn’t have the energy to argue. “Iced peppermint for both of us.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Okay.” Boneless, I sunk deeper into the sofa.

“And, Cat?”

“Yes?”

“I won’t overstay my welcome. I just want to see you.”

“I know. Bye.”

“Bye.” As I hung up, Marcy appeared.

“Lurking?”

“Unashamedly listening.” She laughed and sat down.

“Patrick’s bringing us lattes.” I pulled my legs under me and leaned my elbow on the arm of the sofa.

“He’s a thoughtful man. You could do a lot worse.”

“Give it a rest. Liam is barely gone.”

“But he is gone.”

“That one I’ve figured out for myself.”

“Have you? There’s not some part of you waiting for him to reappear in human form?” She watched me, her gaze searching.

“He’s moved into the light.” My heart tightened. I was happy for him, of course. But that didn’t make being left behind any easier. “You seemed mighty interested in Ryan.”

A flush traveled up her neck and added a nice rosy glow to her high cheekbones. “Your policeman is easy on the eyes and a decent guy.” She tapped her lip and added thoughtfully. “Both he and Patrick are different from most of the men in our crowd.”

“Yes, they are. And he’s not my policeman.”

“Do you have any interest in that direction?” She bit her lips together and watched me.

“Not even a little.”

“Then you don’t mind if I have a go at him?”

“Not in the least.”

“Whew. That’s a relief.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what it is about him, but I find him extremely appealing.”

“You should see him in uniform.” I grinned.

“I intend to.” Her lips quirked upward.

Before I could respond, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it.” Marcy hopped up and trotted out of the room, her long legs moving at a brisk pace.

A moment later, Patrick came in carrying two lattes.

He handed me one. “That was fast.” I looked over his shoulder
.
“Where’s Marcy?”

“She mentioned painting her nails and disappeared.” He eased down beside me and set his latte on the end table. With a touch as delicate as a surgeon’s, he lifted my chin and studied me. “Even the circles under your eyes are lovely, more violet than black or gray. You’re such a pretty thing.”

Embarrassed, I jerked my head away. He let his hand fall to his side. “Can you talk about it?”

I didn’t want to bring him pain, but I didn’t want to lie to him either. In the long run, I had to believe the truth would hurt less. Besides, how vested could he be? We didn’t know each other that well.

I lifted my chin and looked him straight in the eye. “I fell in love with a ghost.”

“I got that part of it.” He grimaced. “It’s the rest I don’t understand.”

“The rest?”

“You know, girl meets ghost, ghost sweeps her off her feet.” His voice was light but his neck stiff. Cords stood out in his forearms.

“You won’t believe this.”

“Try me.”

“My cousin purchased him on eBay.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe it.”

“Told ya.”

“Even if I don’t believe it, it sounds like a good story. Tell me.” He leaned back into the cushions.

Silence thrummed between us. He watched me patiently.

“You win.”

I pretended I didn’t hear him murmur, “I doubt it.”

The story came tumbling out. At times, he laughed appreciatively. At others, he shook his head in disbelief. When I’d finally finished, I leaned back against the cushions, my insides lighter, like some of the coiled tension had loosened.

“That’s quite a story.”

“It is, isn’t it?” I picked up my latte. By now it was a bit watered down, but it didn’t matter. “Thank you.”

“No big. Even a poor college student can afford an occasional latte.”

I shook my head and returned his smile. “That too. But mainly just for being. You seem to know exactly what I need even when I don’t.”

“It’s a gift.” He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the tip of my nose. “How about we watch some old movies? I brought some with me.”

“I’m just not very good company tonight, maybe another time.” I shifted and rubbed my arms. I was cold, always cold.

“Okay, not in the mood for movies. I get it.” He pushed off the couch and looked down at me.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? I’ve got a backup plan.” He hauled me to my feet and pulled me across the room.

“What are you doing?”

His fingers locked around mine, he led me through the door.

I tugged at his hand as he headed for his car. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not a problem,” he responded, his voice amicable. He stopped and looked around. “How deep is this lot?”

“About seven acres, I think,” I answered, confused.

“That should work.” He dropped my hand, opened the back seat of his car, and leaned in. “Any open spaces?”

“Yeah, out back.” My interest came sluggishly to life.

He backed out of the car carrying a tripod and a telescope. “Let’s star gaze.”

“You came prepared for all contingencies, didn’t you?” I said, unsure whether to be upset or touched.

“Yup, lead the way.” He got a better grip on his equipment and turned toward me.

“Okay.” Defeated, I walked around the hedges to my aunt and uncle’s property behind the manse. We strolled in silence for a bit through gardens that smelled like sweet nectar. An occasional night bloomer’s silvery head waved as a light breeze rustled through branches. Overhead a night bird twittered.