The Ghost of a Chance (20 page)

"Well, that depends on your point of
view."
 
I sigh, feeling heavy and
exhausted.
 
I really could use a cup of
coffee, though I suspect its energizing magic would fall miles short
today.
 
This fatigue isn’t physical;
it’s soul-deep.
 
"Maybe the library
will grow on you.
 
You’ve been here for
less than a year."

"It feels like ten."

I shrug and offer her a halfhearted smile.
 
"If you dislike it so much, why don’t
you try something else?
 
What would you
enjoy doing?"

For a moment, Annabelle’s eyes spark with a hidden
fire, and she leans forward, opening her mouth, on the verge of speaking her
dream aloud.
 
But then she glances to me
and deflates, shaking her head slightly.
 
"I don’t know.
 
I’m still
paying off my student loans.
 
It would
be irresponsible to quit now."
 
She
bites her lip and sits in thoughtful silence for a few seconds.
 
Then her eyes narrow and glare in my
direction.
 
"Why are we talking about
me
, anyway?
 
We were trying to
figure out a way for you to seduce Alis, and you changed the subject on
purpose
."

"I have no intention of seducing anyone,
Annabelle.
 
That would be a little OTT,
don’t you think?"
 
I smile softly
as Annabelle nods her agreement.

"Yeah, subtle is best.
 
You could just take her out to dinner,
maybe?
 
The Poseidon has some cozy
tables, and it’s pretty quiet in there.
 
Good for conversation.
 
And the
food’s okay.
 
A little salty."

My eyes rest again on
The Caveman’s Bride
, but
my thoughts are far away, wondering.
 
Would Alis agree to go to The Poseidon with me?
 
Would I dare to ask her, after what happened
last night?
 
It might be nice for the
two of us to get out of the house, away from the familiar, and talk about…
us
on neutral ground.

I massage my temples as a pang of guilt clenches my
heart.
 

Neutral ground, meaning away from the house, from
the cabin.
 
Away from Catherine’s
presence.

Annabelle may not be a traitor, but I am.
 
How could I even entertain the
possibility
of dating another woman?
 
And not only
another woman, but Catherine’s own nurse…

Then I see the Scrabble tiles in my mind’s eye—KISS
HER—and shake my head, raking my hands through my hair.
 
It’s impossibly baffling.
 
It’s too much.
 
I can’t put the pieces together. They don’t fit.
 
If only I could talk to Catherine, ask her
what she needs, what she wants from me…
 
I remember the séance scheduled for this weekend and feel a gasping
flicker of hope.

"So, are you going to do it?"

"Do what?" I ask Annabelle, blinking.

"Ask Alis to dinner,
duh.
"

"Oh."
 
I stand up and scoop
The Caveman’s Bride
from the floor, heading
over to the ladder by the romance shelves.
 
"I’ve got to sort some things out first.
 
I don’t know if I’m ready to take that step yet, and I don’t want
to make things more complicated than they already are."

Annabelle follows behind me, plucking up romance
titles from the untidy piles, wobbling a little on her decidedly
un
comfortable
four-inch heels.
 
"Life is always
going to be complicated, Darcy.
 
But
love is about as simple as it gets.
 
It’s either there or it isn’t, you know?"

More
After-School Special
wisdom.

Still…

It’s either there or it isn’t.

I reach for the stack of romance novels in
Annabelle’s hands and begin to slide them onto the shelf, taking care to
alphabetize.

---

Alis is waiting for me in the hallway when I arrive
home from work, wearing her nursing scrubs and twisting her hands together, her
blue gaze downcast, her lips pale, colorless.
 
Her hair hangs lank and loose over her shoulders.
 
I freeze in the open doorway, hand on the
knob, snow gusting in all around me.
 
When she raises her chin to look up, my lips part in horror, and my
heart falls like a stone: her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed from crying, and
an ugly, purplish bruise stains her right cheek.
 
Blood, black as ink, encrusts her nose.

"Alis, what—"

"Oh, Darcy!"
 
She’s in my arms, sobbing silently against my chest.

Constricted by my heavy coat, I hug her awkwardly,
smoothing my hand over her hair as my mind draws the most likely
conclusion.
 
A fireball of rage sizzles
inside of me, hot and hissing, but I swallow its heat and whisper through
clenched teeth, "Was it Jason?"

Alis nods her head, still pressed hard against me,
crying without making a sound.
 
Her
hands cling to my coat, pulling at the thick fabric.
 
"I’m so stupid.
 
I’m
so
stupid.
 
Why did I marry
him?
 
What’s
wrong
with me?
 
Why couldn’t I see—"

"Come on," I tell her softly.
 
"Come upstairs, Alis.
 
You should lie down.
 
You need to rest."

"But we have to—"

"Rest first.
 
Then we’ll figure out what to do."

"But what if he comes here?
 
What if he comes for
you
?"

"Well…"
 
I kiss her jasmine-scented hair and rest my cheek against the top of her
head for a moment, eyes closed.
 
I
sigh.
 
"I’d like to see him
try."

"Don’t say that, Darcy.
 
He’s monstrous.
 
He waited for me in the parking lot at the hospital, and he said
the most hateful, vicious things about you—"

"Of course he did.
 
I would have been shocked if he hadn’t."

"But he said he was going to…to…"
 
She shakes her head as sobs wrack her small,
trembling frame.
 
I catch the tears
streaming from her eyes and feel my own eyes begin to water, despite the
bonfire blazing in my chest.
 

"Come on, Alis."
 
My voice is hoarse, strained.
 
I ease her around gently until she’s facing the stairs.
 
"Let me take care of you.
 
You took care of me when I needed you
most."

She inhales deeply, then, and her sobs abruptly
still.
 
For a long moment, she stares
down at the tiled floor, breathing in and out, loosely fisting her right hand.
 
When she looks up at me at last, her blue
eyes shine, as dark and opaque as moonlit seas.
 
"But I’m so afraid for you, Darcy," she whispers,
wiping the dampness from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
 
"If anything happens to you, I’ll
never—"

"Nothing’s going to happen to me, Alis.
 
Or to you."

"How can you know?
 
How can you really, truly know that?"

I shrug and smile apologetically: "Because I’m
as stubborn as an ox, and I hate to be wrong."
 
I brush away the wet hair clinging to her face, taking care not
to graze her bruise, which seems to spread even as I watch it, now claiming the
full expanse of her cheek.

"No, seriously, Darcy, he’s—he’s never going to
stop.
 
He doesn’t want me to come
back.
 
He’s just…
furious
that he
can’t control me, that I’m not his doll anymore."
 
She gulps down air, sniffling and squeezing
my hand.
 
"But he’s especially
furious that I’ve fallen—I mean, that—"
 
Flushing, she turns from me and pulls her hand away, crosses her arms
over her chest, shoulders hunched up around her ears.
 
In a shaking voice, she whispers, "That I’m here with
you."

"I know," I say softly, outwardly calm
despite my fury toward Jason, and despite my anxious, aching heart.

Alis leans against me, then, sagging, and I wrap an
arm around her waist, supporting her weight as I guide her slowly up the
stairs.

"You’re so good to me," she whispers when
we stand outside of her room, facing one another.
 
"What did I ever do to deserve…"
 
Alis’ eyes, lowered and dark, rise to gaze
at me, and the faintest smile slides over her lips.
 
"…a friend like you?"
 

Smiling back, I nudge the door open with my hip,
taking her hand, urging her to follow me inside.
 
"Come on, let’s get you settled."
 
I gesture toward the bed, though my heart
pangs at the sight of it.
 
Catherine
made the lavender afghan coverlet, knitted it in her hospital room during my
hours-long visits, her needles gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights as we
talked, her smile radiant even though she was so ill…

I blink and turn my back to the bed, refocusing on
Alis.
 
She stands in the doorway, face
drawn, looking small and very lost.
 
She
tilts to one side just slightly.
 
"Would you like some tea?
 
I
could make tea or coffee, whatever you want.
 
Are you hungry?"

She shakes her head.
 
"No.
 
Thank you.
 
I don’t think I could eat anything right
now."
 
For a long moment, she gazes
at me, biting her lip, which I notice is a little swollen, possibly
bruised.
 

The fire rises again, and my hands clench into fists
as I imagine Jason lurking in the parking lot, waiting for Alis—and then
startling her, attacking her, hurting her to satisfy some twisted, macho
compulsion.
 
I want to go find him.
 
I want to hurt
him.
 
I want to ask him what kind of monster
he is, to harm Alis…
 
What kind of
monster could
do
this to her?
 
I
won’t let him get away with it—

"I already reported it to the police,
Darcy," Alis says softly, watching me.
 
"He broke the restraining order, and they told me that they’d try
to find him.
 
They took photos of what
he did to me...for evidence."
 

I bow my head and draw in a deep breath, exhaling it
with a heavy sigh.
 
"I wish I’d
been there."

"I’m glad you weren’t."
 
Alis smiles fondly but admonishingly at me,
sitting down on the edge of the bed.
 
She draws Catherine’s afghan around her shoulders until she’s encased
shoulders to toes in a lavender cocoon.
 
"One of my co-workers helped me in to see a doctor and then took me
the police station.
 
Luckily, Maribel
was just coming out to the parking lot and found me there, right after
Jason"—she cringes as she pronounces his name—"drove away.
 
And an officer dropped me off
here."
 
She toys with one of the
tassels on the afghan, her mouth grim.
 
"I had to leave my own car behind.
 
Could you take me to pick it up later?
 
I won’t be able to get to work if—"

"Of course, Alis.
 
Don’t worry."
 
I sit
beside her and, after a moment’s hesitation, rest a hand lightly upon her
leg.
 
"Did the doctor give you any
medication or instructions?"

She shakes her head, eyes dull and unfocused.
 
"No.
 
I mean, yes.
 
Something for the
pain.
 
I can’t remember…
 
He just told me to rest."

I watch her closely, worried by the detached tone in
her voice and the blank expression on her face.
 
Her hands fall into her lap, and she stares at them for a long,
silent moment.
 
Then, without a sound,
without a movement of lashes, tears form at the corners of her eyes and begin
to drip onto her fingers.

"It breaks my heart to see you like this,"
I whisper, sliding my arm away from her leg to encompass her blanketed
waist.
 
With my other hand, I catch the
tears on her cheek, leaning near.
 
She
tilts toward me to rest her forehead against mine.

"I’ll be all right, Darcy.
 
It’s just the shock." Her breath comes
in short gasps now between her words.
 
"Tomorrow I’ll feel better.
 
Angry.
 
But better."

"Oh, I’ve got angry covered.
 
I think I’m angry enough for both of
us," I mutter, sighing and drawing back to press my lips to the raw skin
of her cheek.
 
"If I ever see that
monster again—"

"I hope you won’t," she says quickly,
straightening and staring at me with wide, frightened eyes.
 
"I hope you never see him, Darcy.
 
I hope
I
never see him, never
hear
him, never…feel him…"
 
She rubs
at her upper left arm, wincing as if it aches.