Ghost for Sale (24 page)

“Nice.” Patrick’s voice was quiet. The still night had that affect.

The path we were on led out of the garden to a wide open space, with a couple of old oaks breaking the stretch of flat green.

“This should do it.” He looked around and stopped. With practiced ease, he settled the tripod and telescope. He slouched over, his eye on the eyepiece, his hiney, covered in baggy jeans, in the air. He pointed the scope toward the sky, made some adjustments, and grunted. “Take a look.” He stepped back.

I put my eye to the scope. “Everything’s blurry.”

He made some quick adjustments, turning the circular cylinder first left, then right. “How about now?”

The stars sprang into view. The sky came alive like a thousand sparkling diamonds. “Oh, Li—”

I stopped myself from saying,
Liam you should see this
. In such a short time, he’d become an integral part of my life. We’d bonded, become one person, at least in the metaphysical sense. Instead, my eyes filled with tears and my heart murmured,
Are you up there, Liam? Are you happy?

As if in response, one lone star shot across the sky toward me, then disappeared. The stars blurred as my eyes filled.

“Thank you, Patrick. That was truly wonderful.” My throat was thick and tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Then why are you crying?” He stepped closer and thumbed a tear off my face, then another. “Don’t cry, pretty girl, please don’t cry.” He slid a warm comforting arm around me, leaned down, and kissed one wet cheek, then the other. His lips hovered near mine. I knew what was coming. I didn’t try to stop him. Liam was gone. Patrick was here. His lips met mine, tentative and warm. His grip tightened.

My throat swelled shut. I couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t right. I shoved against him, panting. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.”

His arms dropped to his side. “Too soon. I knew that. But for a moment it felt like…” His voice trailed off.

“Yeah, I know. But I just can’t.”

“It’s okay. No rush. We’ve got all the time in the world. Maybe we should call it a night.”

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Will you be all right? I could always stay over. Sleep on the couch.” He lifted my chin, his gaze searching mine.

“Thank you. I’m truly touched. I’ll be all right. Marcy’s in the house. It’s time I got some of this down on paper. It will help me heal.”

“And hopefully give you closure.” He gave me a rueful grin.

“Patrick, I…”

He interrupted me. “I know this may not work out the way I want it to.” His gaze held mine. “You’re worth the risk.”

Was I? I wondered
.
Since I’d met Liam and Patrick, my former dating values seemed rather shallow.

“Well, I guess I’d better get going.” He picked up his equipment and tucked it under his arm. With his free hand, he clasped mine and we walked to his car.

He shoved the telescope into the back seat and leaned against the door. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” With any other guy, I’d wonder if he meant it after the fiasco in the backyard, but Patrick wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it. I hoped I wasn’t setting him up.

He shoved away from the car, took my hand, kissed my palm, and closed my fingers around it. “Get some sleep, sweet Cat.”

His gentleness undid me. My eyes pricked again. “Thanks.” I waited till he drove off before I trudged back in the house. Once in the bedroom, I dropped across the bed, exhausted, waiting for sleep to overtake me.

It never came. A thousand pictures of Liam swirled through my mind: Liam stretched out by the pool, accompanying me on my dates with Patrick, the look on his face as he rode in Marcy’s Vette, and finally the shooting star.

Uttering a word my mom wouldn’t have approved of, I flung myself out of bed and headed for my tiny study. I turned on the light and stood there. Could I do this?

I slid into the chair and pulled up a blank document. I looked at it for a long time, my mind racing. Finally, I began.

Liam O’Reilly grew up in the little town of Ruby Falls. He came to manhood during the tumultuous times of the Civil War. But war wasn’t what killed him.

Three months later

The August sun beat down with merciless intensity, humidity so thick you could cut it with a knife. The family and Patrick stood grouped around Marcy’s Vette and my bug, Pinkie, both cars packed so tightly there was barely room for the drivers.

“Honey, don’t you want us to help you move in?” It was Mom’s swan song. She’d been singing it monotonously ever since I told her I wanted to move in by myself with no parental help. She dabbed at a bead of perspiration on her forehead with a tissue.

“You were there just last week and Parents’ Weekend is coming up in two weeks. I’ll see you then.” I also knew my lines by heart. Aunt Janet and Uncle Leon came over and gave me a brief hug and kiss before they moved to do the same with their daughter.

Mom sighed, tearing up, and hugged me. “Call me the minute you get there.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you, baby.” She gave me another fierce hug, then stepped back as Dad took her place. He slipped me a slim brown package.

“You got it back already?” I’d spent six weeks writing Liam’s story. I’d locked myself in my study only coming out to eat and sleep. When it was finished, I’d given it to Dad to proof. He’d read it, put his seal of approval on it, and offered to get it printed.

My fingers slid over the hardbound book. “It feels awfully thin for three copies.”

“This one’s yours. I went ahead and sent the other two to Ms. Aileen and Ms. Ethel.”

“Thanks, Dad. And they’re the only copies you had made?”

He crossed his heart. “The only copies. I know how personal this is to you, and I respect that. If you choose to pursue it, you’ve got the makings of a damn fine reporter. And you’ve got the skill.”

“Thanks.” Pleasure flooded my system. Coming from my father, it was no small praise. He drew me to him, held me a moment, kissed my forehead, then let go. “Figure out how to be happy, Caitlin.”

“I’m happy.”

He looked at me, his gaze profoundly sad. I’d always been able to fib to Mom, but Dad saw right through me.

“I’ll try,” I amended.

“Once you’re in school, you’ll be too busy to brood.”

“I don’t brood.”

He lifted his eyebrows.

“Well maybe a little.”

“I better let Patrick say good-bye.” He smiled and stepped back. Patrick had spent a lot of time with me over the summer. He and Dad had hit it off.

I straightened my shoulders. There was something I had to do, and I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“When are you heading back?” I asked Patrick, clutching my book in my right hand.

“Tomorrow.” He rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved in his pockets. “I’ll call you.”

“Patrick…” I shifted my glance to my relatives, who’d moved discreetly away.

“Don’t say it, Cat.” His voice, like mine, was pitched low.

“I’m not a good bet. I know my timing stinks, but I don’t see myself being ready to be involved with anyone for a long time.”

I’d tossed and turned all night, trying to figure out what to do. Patrick had been my lifeline over the summer. Without him, life would have been difficult indeed. But he deserved so much more than what I could give him. “I want you to date other people. The best I can ever offer you is friendship.” I forced the words out. It was the right thing to do even if it didn’t feel like it.

He winced. I could see his hands fist in his pockets. Before he could respond, I took a small step toward him. “I can never repay everything you’ve done for me. You managed to glue some of the broken pieces back together. The best thing I can do for you is cut you loose.” It hurt to say it. God, it hurt. I’d become way too dependent on him. I reached out and touched his cheek. “We’ll always be the best of friends.”

“The ole ‘let’s be friends routine,’ hey?”

I cringed.

His gaze shifted to the ground, then settled on my face. “It’s okay. I knew the score when I got into this. I know I’ll always come in second to your ghost, but I’m willing to settle.”

I shook my head. “No. Don’t even think about settling. You deserve so much more. I wish I could be the person you need, but I’m still broken.” My voice caught. My eyes filled.

He grabbed me and held me close. “I’ll be waiting if you change your mind,” he whispered in my hair.

I almost did. It would be so easy to settle, to have someone love me and take care of me, even if I didn’t return his feelings. So easy. But I’d meant it. He deserved more. I couldn’t be selfish any longer. I took a deep breath. “I’ll always be your number one fan,” I said with a shaky smile.

He kissed my cheek. “Be happy.”

I wished people would stop saying that.

“You too,” I whispered, my throat clogged, my eyes burning. “I’ll see you at school.”

“See you around.” He turned on his heel and strode to his car.

I opened my car door and paused. My dad stood with his arm around my mom. Uncle Leon and Aunt Janet held hands. I wondered if they’d figured out why Patrick had left. By the look on my dad’s face, at least he had.

Marcy gave an impatient toot of her horn. I slid into the car and started the motor. Before I pulled out, I tore off the brown paper. A small hardback with a solid black cover and gold lettering said Liam O’Reilly.

“Thank you, Dad,” I whispered. I started the motor and backed up my bug as Marcy rolled onto the street. With a wave to the family, she took off.

I bit my lip, waved good-bye, and followed her. I stole one last look in the rearview mirror. Sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, Patrick raised a hand in farewell.

* * * *

It was our fourth week on campus.

Marcy and I shared a dorm room. I spent a lot of time at the library, and occasionally dragged her with me when she wasn’t with her sorority sisters or going to a frat party. It was where we were headed now.

It had been a bad day. I hadn’t aced an Econ test. I’d been too edgy, couldn’t focus. But worst of all, I’d smelled cinnamon and limes. Not the intense scent Liam gave off, just a faint, occasional whiff. I knew it was my imagination, but it had driven me crazy. Still was.

“Caitlin.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve asked you the same question three times. What’s wrong?” Marcy queried as we pushed through the wide doors of the library.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” I forced out. I couldn’t burden my cousin with my anxiety. Marcy was worried enough about me.

She didn’t contradict me, just reached out with her free hand and gave me a hug. “Of course you are. Have you heard from Patrick lately?”

I wasn’t sure the subject change was an improvement, but I went along gamely. “Yeah. There’s a little redhead after him. I wish her luck. He deserves someone that’s head over heels for him.”

“Yeah.”

We fell silent for a moment before Marcy asked, “Did I tell you Ryan threw Clayton out of the house this summer?”

I stopped in my tracks. “What?”

She nudged me forward and giggled. “I’d told Ryan about Clayton, so when he showed up, Ryan told him he’d have you file stalking charges against him and throw him in jail, if he came near you again.”

“Way to go, Ryan. That must be why he only calls and stopped coming over. I can’t figure out what part of ‘we’re through’ he doesn’t understand.”

“The boy is certainly self-absorbed,” she agreed.

“You’ve got that right. You better hold on to Ryan. He’s a keeper.”

“I’m thinking seriously about it.”

The soles of our shoes echoed against the marble tile as we continued down the hall. We stepped into a large room filled with tables. “Where shall we study?” I whispered.

She pointed at an open table farther back and to our right. “How about that one?”

“Okay.”

As we walked, I sniffed cautiously. The only smell was old books, perfume, and aftershave.

“Perfect,” Marcy said as we tossed down our books, pulled out our laptops, and plugged them in. I was working on an English paper that wasn’t due for two weeks. Marcy had a paper due in Sociology the next day.

Soon, I was engrossed in the world of Mary Shelley.

“My God, if that isn’t the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” she breathed in my ear. I ignored her and kept typing. Marcy was ambidextrous when she studied. She could work, flirt, and chatter all at the same time. For the most part, I tuned her out.

“He looks like…” Her voice trailed off. She pushed to her feet, chair scraping against the floor. “Caitlin,” she whispered.

“Hmm.” I didn’t take my eyes off the keyboard as I tried, in the most concise manner possible, to explain why Frankenstein was such a classic.

The smooth waterfall voice hit me before the words. “Good evening, Marcy.”

I froze.

Marcy stuttered, an unusual occurrence for my outgoing cousin. “Do we know each other?”

“I’m your former roommate. Or should I say Caitlin’s ghost?”

My hands fell away from the keyboard. The blood drained from my face and my ears buzzed. With a stiff, jerky motion, I lifted my head, my breath lodged in my throat.

Liam smiled at me, his heart in his eyes. At least, I assumed it was Liam. He wore a black polo and faded jeans. His wonderful head of hair was cropped much closer to his head than I was used to seeing. Trembling, I reached out to him, expecting to feel a tingle of electricity as my fingers grasped air. Instead, I touched warm flesh.

My throat constricted and my eyes stung.

He held out his hand. I clasped it and reveled in the unbelievable heat and texture of it. “How?” was all I could manage.

He pulled me to my feet. “Let’s take a walk and I’ll explain.”

Marcy sat down with a thump on the hard wood chair, for once at a loss for words.

“I’ll see your cousin home. Would you bring her books and laptop?”

She nodded, still speechless. Me too, for that matter.

When we walked out of the building, the warm night air hit me. Moths did their death dance around outdoor lights shining down on the sidewalk. Liam led me to a stone seat and drew me down.