The Book of Eleanor (18 page)

“I have no idea what you are talking about, hon,” she said.

I was perplexed. “So it’s like a trance. But I mean…you were floating in the air!”

She eyed me doubtfully. “Floating? I don’t think so.”

“But I saw you, Ange. You were a good four or five feet up in the air. On your back. I swear it.”

“Seriously? I’ve never…never had anything like that happen before.”

“Did you see anything in the trance? What did you see? Did you see Mary?” I leapt to my feet and fetched her a picture from the wallet in my handbag. “This is her. Were you able to ask her why—”

Angie took the picture with one hand. The other pressed a quieting finger to my lips.

“Slow,” she whispered. “Slow, please. My head feels really funny and you just need to slow down a little, sweetheart.”

I had no control over the way my heart swelled when she said the endearment, but I tried to ignore it. “Sorry. This is Mary. Was she there? Did you talk to her?” She looked at the photo, but I could tell she was having a hard time seeing it. Guilt filled me. “Oh, Angie, put that down. You need to rest.”

I grabbed the duffel bag she’d left near the sofa and forced her to follow me down the hall. I pushed her into the bathroom and handed her the duffel. “Do you need me to help you dress for bed?”

She looked at me and gave me one of her damned seductive smiles. “Oh, I’d be happy for the help.”

“I’ll be out here if you need me.” I smirked at her and shut the door.

I studied the photo Grey pressed upon me, stalling for time. I knew now that this haunting had nothing to do with Mary. I didn’t remember specifics, but I knew the ghost was Eleanor Copeland. I wasn’t sure what she wanted, but I hoped telling me her story had been enough, and now she would move on and leave Grey alone.

I looked down at the photo of the pleasant-looking butch woman Grey had loved, and realized that I didn’t want all this to be over. As soon as I told Grey the truth, that it wasn’t Mary, and that nothing was needed from Grey for her dead lover to be at rest, this intimate time with her would come to an end. I didn’t want it to end.

As she drew me down the hallway to her bedroom, I had a momentary fantasy that she brought me there willingly, to lie with her and share a night of profound pleasure that would cement us as a couple. In my mind, she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

Then I was in the bathroom alone, my duffel bag at my feet. I sighed and got ready for bed, nervous about where I would be sleeping tonight.

I shook my head and splashed cold water on my face, trying to clear my mind. I nudged my memory, trying to recapture the time I’d spent in trance. I retained some impressions and could still taste Eleanor’s cigarettes.

I knew the time period Eleanor had lived in was the mid-forties and early fifties, and that she was heavily involved in the culture of the Beat era. And she lived in New York City.

I remembered how Eleanor had loved Annalise, but this vision was very different than ones I had dealt with before. Always in the past, the spirit had actually approached me and sent the visions to me. This one had sucked me in so that I lived it
as
Eleanor.

I still had no clue what she wanted from Grey and that really bothered me. I didn’t like being confused, once again dealing with things so far removed from my control.

I sighed and stepped from the bathroom. The bedroom was deserted.

When I went looking for Grey, I found her at her drawing table, sipping wine and looking at the Sassy Suzy strip.

“Everything okay?” I whispered cautiously. The strip looked great, like it was all finished.

She looked up. “So far. The wine’s on the counter if you want some.”

“Thanks.” I saw that she had left a glass out for me, so I poured a healthy serving and took a deep draught. “What a crazy couple of days, huh?”

She nodded and lifted her eyes, which looked hollowed and drawn dark by fear. “I’m exhausted. Do you think she will do anything else tonight?”

I shrugged and noticed a blanket and pillow on the sofa. I felt crushed.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, searching my face.

“I’ll be fine. I just need to piece together what I saw so I can explain it, okay?”

“Sure. I’m not trying to pressure you. I just want it to be over.”

“I know you do. Listen,” I indicated the comic strip. “Have you got anywhere safe you can put that?”

“As if,” she muttered. “I think Mary could damage it no matter what, if she really wanted to. She knows how important this strip is to me. I don’t appreciate her taking her anger out on it.”

Yet she lifted the strip and placed it inside a huge portfolio that she pulled out from under the drafting table. She switched off the small light on the table. We stood silently for a handful of heartbeats.

“Well, I guess we’d better try and get some sleep,” I said. “I promised Mama I’d come in tomorrow. Spring break is starting up and things are getting busy.”

“I didn’t realize you managed the restaurant with your mother. Sorry about that.”

“That’s okay.” There was so much I wanted to say to her. I felt hampered, though, and could only watch her.

Grey turned away. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? I’ll be right out here.”

She moved to the sofa and started making up a bed. A powerful sureness grew in me and I moved to still her hands. I made her look at me and wordlessly shook my head. I pulled her gently along the hall to the bedroom, our gazes interlocked. I sensed her fear and made sure I was as gentle and loving in my actions as I could be.

In the bedroom, I nudged her toward the bathroom. “Go change. I just want to hold you, Grey. That’s all.”

Relief flooded her features. I recaptured her hand to see if my advances were unwelcome. All I saw was that she was afraid and didn’t want to be alone. I released her hand. That was enough for me.

I awoke the next morning in Angie’s arms and realized how well rested I felt. I’d slept like a baby all night. The fact that she hadn’t tried to seduce me leapt into my mind as soon as I awakened. Lying there, I pondered the issue a good while. Was it because she didn’t want me? Or did she actually want to protect me and make me feel safe?

“What time is it?” she asked. One of her arms still rested on my waist. She tightened it, pulling me secure.

“About eight,” I replied, glancing at the clock. “Hey, your voice is better.”

She chuckled. “About time. How did you sleep?”

“Amazingly well. Guess it helps to have my protector close.”

“Some protector I am. I got myself strangled and floated around the reading room. That’s helpful.” She laughed ruefully.

“It still felt good to have you here,” I admitted.

“So.” She sighed. I felt her chest swell behind my back. “Since we’re not distracted by looking at one another, wanna tell me how you feel…about us?”

“What do you mean?” I touched her hand where it pressed against my stomach. I needed to escape, but loved the feel of her against me.

“You sense it as much as I do. That we’re supposed to be together.” Her voice was quiet and thoughtful.

“How can you know something like that? I can’t know that.”

Silence grew between us. I had to admit to myself I did feel the energy connecting us, just as surely as I’d felt Mary’s energy yesterday. Guilt filled me. Mary. How could I think of loving another?

“You’ll never stop loving her,” Angie said in a low voice. “You need to accept that and move on. Your heart is big enough to love us both.”

Tears welled in my eyes. I realized suddenly that I
did
love them both. And as much as I felt the cavernous emptiness from Mary’s removal from my life, I knew if I lost Angie, it would be just as painful. As if she sensed my distress, Angie buried her face in my hair and held me close. I had no response, or at least not one that I felt I needed to put into words.

We stayed that way a good while, silently drinking in one another. Angie finally sighed and moved onto her back. “Well, as nice as this is, I guess it’s just about time to go to work. Want to have brekky with me at Mama’s?”

I turned over and peeped at her from behind my pillow. I felt renewed, playful even. “I do. Can she do pancakes?”

“Can she do pancakes? Honey, you are talking about the pancake queen! They are so light and airy, you’d think she mixed them from clouds.”

I cocked an eyebrow at her and lifted up on one elbow. “You sound like a commercial.”

She laughed and rolled to her feet. She stretched and touched her toes ten times. “Can I use the shower?”

I stretched out flat in the bed, surrounded by quilts still warm from her body. “Of course. Just save me some hot water.”

As soon as I heard the water start, I had to run into the Bookmark and use the public restroom. Restless Mary had been at it again. The paper towel holder, which fed towels by a motion sensor, had been practically emptied during the night. I sighed and spoke to her.

“Is it okay, Mary? Is it okay if I love another? Love Angie?”

I felt a sense of warmness steal across me and I felt joy. The first real joy I’d felt since Mary had been taken from me.

In the bedroom, I put a knee on the bed, ready to crawl back into the warmth until Angie was done. Instead, without thinking too much about it, I tapped gently at the door and went in. I stood outside the glass door of the shower for a long beat as Angie watched me from the other side. She moved the door open about six inches and held out a hand to me in invitation.

I stepped out of my pajamas and stepped fearlessly into her arms.

She lifted my chin and pressed her wet lips to mine. The scents of soap and shampoo surrounded me as her kiss conquered me. My legs grew weak under the gentle onslaught. I felt my center liquefy and craved her with almost painful demand.

Her strong hands found my waist and caressed me there. I lifted my arms and cradled her head as our kiss transported me. Much later, her hands moved up my waist to cup my breasts, her fingertips moving sensually against my nipples, sending rockets of pure sensation through me.

I spread Angie’s legs with my knee and pressed my vulva against her thigh, hoping she could feel the swelling her touch caused.

She moaned into my mouth. I felt her hot breathing increase. I depressed the pump for the liquid soap and soaped our bellies and backs. The soap glided like quicksilver, leaving trails of slippery flesh and suds. She copied me and soaped my breasts, looking into my eyes as she teased the area from breast to neck.

Her gaze was hard with desire. She moved her hands under my arms, the pressure just shy of tickling, and used those hands to lift me to her lips again. I whimpered at the possession.

After kissing me thoroughly, she lowered a hand and touched me there, where I wanted her the most. I arched into her, the autonomic response beyond my control. The soap and my arousal allowed her to slip easily inside. She moaned and fell against me. I was cradled into the curve of her body and her arm against the wall of the shower as she pushed into me, riding my thigh while she pushed rhythmically against my clit and the slick area behind it.

Our lips found each other and meshed. Passion became a physical thing that occupied the shower with us. My mouth fell open as every move of her body pressed against my newly sensitive breasts, making my body clench against her fingers again and again until I felt the overwhelming rush of orgasm swell and break like storm-tossed waves against Angie’s hand.

She slowly stilled her hand, but leaned in to suckle my breasts, extending the orgasm and wringing gasps of satiation from me. Thank goodness she was strong enough to hold me upright because I was limp from the power of that shuddering release.

Slowly, she soaped my body again and shampooed my hair, her fingers mesmerizing in their powerful adeptness. I hugged her close when she rinsed my hair and body, wanting to convey closeness and love. She turned off the cooling water and continued to hold me, pressing gentle kisses to the top of my head.

Mary came to me on Sunday about midday. I must have been distracted or have let my guard down while pondering the Eleanor issue so intensely. One minute I was alone in the kitchen double-checking a to-go order, and there she was standing on the other side of the dough board. She was dressed simply in jeans and a dark green T-shirt, but it was Mary.

She looked at me with soulful brown eyes. I felt sadness radiating from her. As usually happens, I was suddenly awash in images. Mary purchasing Eleanor’s book in a small bookstore in Virginia. Mary in a small room crammed floor to ceiling with books, sitting at a desk when Eleanor’s book falls open in front of her. Eleanor appeared to Mary. Time passed like the fast forwarding of a videotape. Mary using a laptop and looking for someone…for Annalise.

“You were helping her,” I said.

“Helping who?” Mama said behind me. “Do you have Caroline’s order?”

I absently handed her the bags. She carried them into the restaurant, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Mary had known what Eleanor needed to move on. It had to do with finding Annalise.

I suddenly knew that was what we had to do, find Annalise and tell her that Eleanor what? Loved her? Well, I would cross that bridge later. For now, I had a clear direction: find Annalise. I smiled and sighed deeply. At last. I silently thanked Mary, promising to care always for Grey, and went back to work.

It took me a good thirty minutes of mentally planning computer searches and waiting on two tables before I realized that Annalise had to be dead as well. Duh. If she had lived her youth in the forties, then her time here on this plane had passed. Depression swamped me. If Annalise was dead as well, why couldn’t she and Eleanor find one another? My head reeled.

“You look kinda sick,” Gail said, passing by me lugging a bin full of dishes cleared from the tables. “Are you okay?”

“Here, let me help you with that,” I said, hurrying to take the heavy bin from her. “Where’s Pedro?”