“Hey, now, don’t make fun of my couch,” William defended. “It’s comfortable and keeps me from spilling my drinks. Plus it reclines.”
Lorna lifted her hands between them as if to keep him back. “I wouldn’t dare come between a man and his couch.”
That sounded a tad dirtier than she’d intended. She pretended not to notice.
“Is there something between you and Vivien?” Lorna needed to know. “Or was there? The two of you put off a vibe.”
“No, and never. We’ve all been friends for a long time and have been through life’s trials together, but there was never anything remotely romantic going on.” William’s lips curled up at the side in a sheepish smile. His hand rested on her upper arm, forcing her mind to focus on his touch. She dropped her arms at the contact. “In case it isn’t completely obvious, Lorna Addams, I like you in a romantic way. I want to get to know you better.”
Lorna’s heart quickened by small degrees. She wasn’t some schoolgirl with a crush. Butterflies didn’t generally flutter around in her stomach at the thought of being next to a man. She knew what sexual attraction was. Most of the time it was that annoying ache that argued with all the logical thoughts in her head. She looked at his light grip on her arm. He had the rough fingers of a man who worked with his hands. There was a fantasy somewhere in that fact alone.
Silence filled the theater like the captured breath of an audience waiting for the climactic final act. She felt as if they were watched, rapt eyes looking at every detail of what they did. A shiver worked its way over her, covering her skin with goosebumps. She was an actress who didn’t know her lines, didn’t know how to push this story thread forward.
Thoughts raced through her mind, crowding the single moment. It had been a long time since she’d kissed someone who wasn’t Glenn. They’d been together most of her adult life. Those moments were part of her, sprinkled throughout her existence in impressions and memories. That knowledge kept her frozen in place and unable to act on her impulses with William.
For years, she’d told herself that what she wanted didn’t matter. She was a mother. She was a wife. She was the glue that kept the family together, the oil that kept it running smoothly, the tonic that kept them healthy and safe. She was what everyone else needed her to be. She was endless dinners and rides to school. She absorbed their pains, healed their wounds, loved them unconditionally. She took very little for herself. It had never been her intention to sound like a martyr. It all happened so slowly, piece by piece until she forgot who she was without them.
But her children were grown, and her husband was dead. She no longer needed to be all those things. She could shed that skin and become something new, someone new.
New.
The future had no road map. There was no porch swing for reminiscing. The home she’d raised her children in no longer belonged to her.
New.
Terrifying.
Exciting.
The next chapter.
Her second chance to live a new life.
New Lorna could kiss William, or in the very least allow him to kiss her.
William apparently had no such inner struggle. When her eyes moved up to meet his, he leaned forward. His intent was clear, and he gave her plenty of time to react and pull away. His hand moved from her arm to cup her cheek, quietly asking permission.
Lorna’s heartbeat quickened. His gentle kiss barely had time to settle before a slow clap sounded from the invisible audience. She gasped in surprise and pulled away. Her eyes went to the seats, not seeing anyone.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
William grumbled and turned to the chairs. Loudly, he stated, “Vivien, I know that’s you. Stop acting like a teenager.”
Lorna briefly touched her lips. They tingled and she wanted him to continue.
“I’m sorry, where were we?” He cupped her cheek and moved to resume his kiss. This time he deepened the pressure, parting his lips so that his tongue could slip along the seam of her mouth. A light moan left her.
“William? Are you in here?” Heather yelled from the back.
Lorna pulled away first at the sound.
William closed his eyes and frowned. “Yes, sis?”
Heather appeared slowly from between the curtains searching for them. “Oh, there you are. We were thinking of going to get breakfast. Is Lorna with you?”
“You’re leaving?” Lorna came from behind William.
“Vivien wants pancakes and I need to pick up some tools to fix the stage.” Heather slowly walked down the aisle toward them. “I’ll be back in an hour… unless you need me to stay away longer?”
“I don’t see anything wrong with the stage,” William stated. Whatever the moment had been between them had gone with Heather’s interruption. Lorna wished they could get it back.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind ballerinas dancing their way into a crater.” Heather chuckled, coming closer. “I’m pretty sure my insurance will frown about that.”
He looked down at the floor and tapped at the boards with the heel of his boot. “What am I missing?”
“Seriously?” Heather came closer. Her eyes went to the stage, and she frowned. She looked up in question.
Lorna shrugged from behind William and mouthed, “I don’t know.”
Heather hurried up the stairs and began the same process Lorna had gone through, pressing around the place the hole had been with her foot.
“Are you sure you weren’t doing anything more than drinking last night?” William teased. “Maybe grandma left a little wacky tobaccy with her book?”
“You’re hilarious,” Heather muttered.
“I’m not the one seeing holes where there are none,” William said.
“I saw it too,” Lorna put forth. “There’s a lever that opened up to a secret area underneath the floor with a…”
He gave her a bemused look.
“It happened,” Lorna insisted. “There are a series of pullies and tracks under the stage.”
“What all did my sister tell you about Grandma Julia?” William asked Lorna.
Heather waved at him in dismissal, indicating she wasn’t paying attention to him as she went to where Lorna had discovered the levers.
“Not only did Julia charge for séances,” William continued, “she bootlegged moonshine and grew marijuana during Prohibition. That’s how she made enough money to build this theater and several of the other Warrick properties in town. Our Julia was quite the outlaw.”
Heather slapped her hand against the post with the levers.
“I think she sounds like an amazing, strong, intelligent, fascinating woman,” Lorna answered. She liked William, and there was no denying her attraction to him, but his pigheadedness on the topic of all things Julia-related bordered on annoying.
“She was all those things,” Heather agreed.
“I wish I could have known her,” Lorna added, wondering if Julia’s spirit could hear them talking. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like to be a woman in the 1920s, forging her own way in not only a man’s world but during the Great Depression, and commissioning buildings, and running a theater.”
“She ran a hotel too,” Heather added, “but it burned down in the fifties.”
“Foul play?” Lorna asked.
Heather shrugged.
“I think you misunderstand the point I was trying to make,” William said. “All pot-smoking jokes aside, bootleggers were known to have hidden stashes, secret compartments, heck, even secret tunnels and rooms. So, if you’re telling me that Julia rigged some kind of hidden contraption that made the bottom of the stage open up, I’m inclined to believe you. What was down there?”
Lorna shared a look with Heather.
“A ledger of her séances, people she contacted, what she charged, stuff like that,” Heather said.
“The book you were reading last night,” William concluded.
“It was with that old altar from those photographs that Dad
had of her,” Heather said. “The altar is still down there.”
“That’s why you looked spooked.” William gave a long sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “You weren’t just reading that old ledger, were you?” His gaze went to where Heather touched her ring and then to Lorna’s hand. “Those belonged to Julia, didn’t they? Vivien had a ring too. I thought they looked familiar. Julia had a whole box of those when we were little. You’re meddling with that stuff.”
“What do you care?” Heather asked. “You don’t believe it’s real. Isn’t that what you’re always telling people? By your logic, if it’s not real, then there is no harm in what we’re doing.”
“Heather…” William looked like he wanted to plead with her but stopped himself. “I have to get some papers together for work. I’ll see you later. Let me know if you need help figuring out the floor.” To Lorna, he added, “I hope to see you Thursday, if not before.”
Lorna nodded. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.” His smile was well-meaning, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he turned away to hop off the stage and make his way up the aisle. He didn’t look back as he left.
“He used to see them,” Heather said softly as she came to stand by Lorna. “When he was little, he saw ghosts, but he grew out of it. My mother tried to convince him it was imaginary friends, but I think he knows the truth deep down, even if he can no longer see them for himself. I also think it scares him.”
“Is Julia here?” Lorna asked, looking around at the chairs.
“I don’t see her,” Heather answered. She motioned for Lorna to follow her as she stepped down from the stage.
“Last night, do you think we…?”
Heather gave a short laugh. “I think we drank too much. I think we took a little too many creative liberties with holding a séance. And I think the only thing we summoned was a hangover and the heebie-jeebies, which can both be cured with coffee and carbs.”
“So, no one else is here?”
“Not that I see,” Heather said. She led the way from the stage, moving up the aisle.
Lorna glanced to where she’d seen Heather say hello to her grandmother. “Were they here when you walked in?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Are you sure?” She’d felt like people were watching her when she was with William on the stage.
“I didn’t see any.”
Lorna opened her mouth to ask more, but Heather stopped walking, turned around, and lifted her hand.
“It’s not a parlor trick or party game,” Heather stated. She took a deep breath as if policing her tone. “I know what you and Vivien want from me, and I’m sorry, I can’t force it to happen for you. I couldn’t make it happen for me. I looked everywhere for my son until it ended the tiny shreds of my marriage that had survived his death. I don’t tell people what I can do because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life answering whether or not I see spirits.”
What a horrible side effect of such a skill, to be reminded constantly of death—especially after the death of a child. That’s not something Lorna had considered when faced with the idea of séances and ghosts. She’d thought of her own selfish need to confront the past. They’d been rash and foolish the night before, playing around with things they didn’t understand. Why hadn’t that fear been there while they were doing it? It’s almost like a spell had been cast over them, forcing them to throw caution to the wind.
“I won’t ask again,” Lorna said. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. Vivien and I should not have pushed last night. I don’t think of you like some grinder monkey ready to perform tricks on command. If that’s what it felt like, I apologize. The two of you are the only friends I have here. Actually, the only friends I have anywhere. You don’t treat me like a novelty, or a dumbass. I value that and don’t want to lose it. All I know about ghosts comes from the horror movies my kids used to watch with their friends and from decorating for Halloween. I don’t know how any of this works in real life. What we did, or tried to do, has left me on shaky ground.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Heather reached for the curtain in the doorway before turning to see what she was doing. Her hand bumped the wall and she yelped in surprise. She jerked her hand back.
“Are you all right? What happened?” Lorna asked as Heather cradled her hand.
“I cut myself on something.” Heather clenched her fist.
Lorna went to check and found that the curtain holdback had broken off the wall. It left behind a sharp protrusion of plastic.
“When did that happen? It wasn’t like that during the recital.” Lorna frowned.
“I’m glad I found it and not one of the customers.” Heather opened her hand to examine the cut. It had sliced her palm. “I don’t think it’s too deep.”
“Let me get you something for the bleeding.” Lorna ran ahead of her to the napkin dispensers. They were the closest option. “Here, let me see it. You might need stitches.”
“It’ll be fine. Working on job sites, I keep my tetanus shot up to date. If it’s bad, I’ll just superglue it together and save the six-hundred-dollar emergency room fee.”
Lorna pressed napkins into Heather’s palm, dabbing at the cut. “At least let me clean it for you.”
With two boys and a girl who could outplay her brothers, Lorna was a pro at doctoring cuts and bruises. She placed the bloody napkins on the glass case and grabbed clean ones to apply pressure.
“Are you ladies coming? I’m starving,” Vivien said as she came from the direction of Lorna’s apartment. Her eyes went to the bloody napkins. “What happened here?”
“There’s a first-aid kit in the office,” Heather said. “Would you mind grabbing it for me?”
“On it.” Vivien hurried to retrieve it.
“I’m sorry if I sounded short with you earlier,” Heather said as Lorna continued to press napkins against her hand. Lorna was careful not to make contact with the woman’s flesh. They didn’t need another emotion-exchanging episode right now. “This thing I can do, it’s not something I can turn on or off like a switch. Either I see them or I don’t, mostly I don’t because I don’t want to and I ignore them.”
“I understand,” Lorna answered. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”
“Spirits aren’t like bumping into someone living who you have to acknowledge or step around. Sometimes they’re simply impressions, energy left over from some traumatic event—a heavy feeling when you walk into a room, a chill that runs down your spine for no reason. Other times they’re aimless loops, repeating the same past event over and over. We call those residual hauntings. And then there are the few who are aware, like Julia. They come and go as they please, or as their energy allows. I’m not sure how that works. When they talk it’s like listening to someone shouting under water. It’s difficult and it takes a lot of concentration.”
Lorna remembered Heather’s reaction when Julia had been communicating with her. She had cupped her ears and seemed drained afterward.
“My hand doesn’t hurt,” Heather said. “If anything it kind of tingles.”
Lorna quickly lifted the corner of the napkins to look before pressing down once more. “There’s a lot of blood, but it looks like the bleeding is slowing down. That’s good.”
“Got it!” Vivien returned with the kit and set it on the concession counter. She pulled out a small antiseptic wipe and tore open the package. “Here.”
Heather used it to swipe her palm. She frowned, scrubbing harder.
“Easy,” Lorna warned. “It might start bleeding again.”
Heather held up her bloody hand. “I don’t think so.”
Vivien leaned close to look. “I don’t see anything.”
“That’s because it’s gone,” Heather said.
Lorna frowned. “I saw the cut.”
“I felt the cut, and yet…” Heather wiggled her fingers. “No cut.”
“Then how is there blood?” Vivien asked.
&nbs
p; Lorna studied her hand. Weakly, she said, “I think it might have been me. The night I put on the ring I swear my knee was on its way to a deep purple. I could barely walk. Yet, somehow, when I rubbed my hand over it, the bruise and pain went away. Never mind. As I hear myself say it out loud, I know I sound crazy.”
“There’s one way to find out.” Vivien went behind the counter and took up a knife they used to open packages. She pressed the tip into her thumb and flinched. She held the bleeding digit toward Lorna. “Heal me.”
Lorna grabbed a napkin and pressed it over the woman’s thumb. “I don’t know…”
Heather didn’t take her eyes away from Vivien’s injury. “Just focus your intentions on Vivien’s hand. Want to heal her.”
Lorna concentrated on the thumb, imagining the puncture wound disappearing as the skin healed. Her hand again tingled with electricity.
“I feel it working,” Vivien said.
Lorna pulled the napkin away. Vivien kept her thumb up for inspection.
“You’re a finder and a healer,” Vivien proclaimed.
“I can’t believe that worked,” Lorna whispered in disbelief. Her hands were shaky. “How did that work?”
“It’s us,” Vivien said. “I told you. This is our destiny. We’re special.”
“I feel it too. When we put the rings on…” Heather studied her hand. “Maybe because we were touching each other.”
“Something happened when we all touched that book,” Lorna added. “It’s… It’s…”
“Magic,” Heather finished when Lorna couldn’t think of the right word.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but yes. We’re magical.” Lorna gave a small shake of her head, a little dazed by the reality of what she’d been able to do. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. But how? Why us? Why me? You both, I understand. You come from families of mediums and psychics. I have never been exceptional at anything. I’m just a nobody.”
“Stop that,” Vivien scolded. “I can’t stand when women our age think they should fade away into the background like life is over. Forget that. I never want to hear you say anything, ever again, that makes it sound like you don’t matter. You are special. You are somebody. We all are. We all matter. And I’m clearly not the only one who thinks so. Grandma Julia, from beyond the grave, has brought us together.” She paused to fan her face. “And, also, hot flashes can kiss my butt.”
Second Chance Magic: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel Page 10
