Steve was quiet for a long moment.
“Daisy, when a person is dead, they can see inside people… kind of.”
“You mean like their guts?” I asked, wrinkling my nose.
“Umm… no, thank God or whoever is in charge,” Steve said with a chuckle. “It’s like I can see auras—colors. I can see feelings and emotions.”
“So you could clearly see that I still loved you even though I hated you last night?”
He nodded and smiled.
“Lying to a dead person is impossible then,” I said, thinking the new information through.
“Yes, but you’re a terrible liar anyway so it’s not a big deal. Right?”
I stood and began to remove the boring granny dress I’d chosen. I almost laughed when I slipped it over my head and remembered I’d bought it for a Halloween party to go as an old lady. “I suppose it’s not a big deal,” I said. “Tell me what you saw around Gideon.”
“Deep pain. Sadness—far too much for someone his age. Yet his colors changed when he saw you. They came brighter and warmer,” Steve said as he floated into the closet and looked through my clothes. “Have you not bought anything new in a year? I recognize all of this.”
“Nope. Why would I buy anything? I don’t go anywhere other than work or out with the girls,” I admitted.
“That’s going to change,” Steve muttered. “The little black dress. Put it on.”
“It shows side boob. Not gonna do that,” I told him with an eye roll.
“Put. It. On,” he insisted with a grin.
“You’re a real pain in the ass,” I snapped, yanking it off the hanger.
“Thank you.”
“It wasn’t a compliment,” I said with a laugh.
“Trust me on this, Daisy. I’m right. You have wonderful breasts and your legs are phenomenal.”
Closing my eyes, I thought about what he’d seen around Gideon—pain and sadness.
It shouldn’t be surprising since the Grim Reaper sent souls into the darkness. I would think that would take a toll on a person or whatever he was. For the most part, Gideon was a really nice, stupidly gorgeous guy. It didn’t all add up with Grim Reaper at all.
“If you’re wrong about this hooker getup, I get to remove a body part of my choice,” I said, pulling the dress over my head and realizing I would have to wear a freaking thong and forego a bra altogether.
“Will you glue it back on?” Steve questioned with a delighted laugh.
“Of course,” I said with another eye roll. “I might have become a little violent in my forties, but I’m still a nice Southern girl.”
“Black stilettos,” Steve instructed. “Diamond studs—no other jewelry. No pantyhose. Actually, no pantyhose ever. We need to throw those nasty things away. They’re just awful.”
“Anything else?” I inquired sarcastically.
“Yes,” he said. “Hair down. Smoky eyes. A hint of pink gloss. Do not twist your hair up into a bun. You will be yourself. You will have fun. If you’d like to get intimate with Gideon, I’m fine with that—actually, I’d be thrilled. In fact, I’ll go to the nursing home and spend the night with Gram so you won’t feel awkward.”
“Umm… thank you, but no,” I said, feeling a small tsunami beginning to brew in my stomach. I truly couldn’t believe I was having this conversation with my husband. Of course, Steve was dead… and gay… but still… “I will not be sleeping with Gideon anytime soon.”
“Should I order some porn?” Steve asked, completely serious. “You know, so you can get up to speed on techniques?”
“No, you should not order any porn,” I snapped. “I’m going to go eat dinner with him—not blow him.”
Steve began to laugh. My language had taken a real dive in the last month. I tried to keep a straight face. I failed.
“Daisy, Daisy, Daisy,” Steve said, still grinning. “The mold was broken after you were created.”
“Thank God for small favors,” I muttered.
“Do you believe?” he asked, growing pensive.
“In what?”
“God,” he said. “Heaven. Hell.”
I sat back down on the bed. I didn’t know how to answer. Steve was headed somewhere in the near-ish future. I could lie and say I firmly believed, but he would know.
“Honestly, I have no idea. Do you?”
Steve shrugged. “Same. Although, now that I’m dead I’m hoping there’s something.”
“Where have you been this past year?” I asked. “Do you know?”
He floated to the bed and lay down on it. “The best way to describe it was like it was a dream sleep—everything around me seemed gray, lifeless. Maybe it was Purgatory.”
“Maybe,” I said, hoping that wasn’t what he was destined for when he eventually left me. The thought left me unsettled. “Everyone I’ve helped went into a golden light and seemed serene and happy.”
Steve was silent. I could tell he was thinking since he made the little noise that I’d missed so much. “I can only hope I’ll be in the same boat. Other than harming you, I led a mostly good life.”
“You didn’t harm me with intent,” I insisted, not liking the direction of the conversation. “You harmed yourself and I got caught in the crossfire.”
“It was some shitty crossfire,” Steve said quietly.
“Yes and no,” I told him, crawling up the bed and lying beside him. “Yes, it screwed me up sexually, but no I wouldn’t change it. My life without you would have been wrong. And making sense out of this is impossible.”
“You can’t change it,” he pointed out. “It happened.”
“It did,” I agreed. “You apologized and I accepted. I’ll love you until the day I die. Nothing will change that, Steve.”
He smiled and gently touched my cheek. It saddened me that his skin felt papery and not warm and alive, but he was dead. That’s the way it was. His touch was still lovely.
My husband was dead. I was alive and not quite as broken as I used to be.
My dead husband had basically set me up on a date with a man who was way out of my league. My dead husband had also revealed that I had no sexual game to said man who was way out of my league. Said man didn’t seem to care.
Tonight was going to be a disaster. I was sure of it.
“Stand up,” Steve directed.
I did. Slipping on the black stilettos that would make my feet scream in agony in about five minutes, I popped in the diamond studs Steve had given me a few years back and waited for him to tell me I looked as ridiculous as I felt.
No such luck.
“You are stunning, Daisy. That man won’t know what hit him,” Steve said, giving me a thumbs up.
“Oh… that man happens to be the Grim Reaper, by the way.”
Steve’s eyes grew wide for a hot second and then he grinned. “Shut the front door! And it just got more interesting. You will make the bad boy good.”
“You’re crazy,” I said, giving him the middle finger.
“And you adore me,” he shot right back, raising his own middle finger.
“I do,” I said with a giggle. “For better or worse, I do.”
“My eyes are up here,” I said dryly.
Gideon had been practically speechless from the time he picked me up in a flashy black sports car to the time we were seated at the finest restaurant in our tiny town. His mouth had hung open for a second when I came down the stairs into the family room. It was great for my fragile ego and terrible for my stomach and equilibrium.
The Grim Reaper clearly enjoyed a little side boob.
Of course, when Steve had announced—six times—that he was going to spend the night at the nursing home with Gram, I practically shoved a grinning Gideon out the front door.
Steve had no filter whatsoever. We were going to have a chat about that soon.
All ten of my other dead squatters—including John—were there to send me off as well. The appreciative grunts were nice, but the entire scene was so surre
al, I needed to get out of my own house. Normally, my home was my safe haven. Tonight? Not so much.
Glancing around the luxurious dining area of the restaurant, I wanted to shrink until I was invisible. Gideon and I were a major point of interest. We were creating a shitstorm of gossip for the town. Poor old Widow Daisy was out to dinner with a man who could crook his finger and have any woman he wanted. What on earth was that man thinking?
“We should have gone a town or two over,” I mumbled, burying my face in the menu. Oh my God, the prices were absurd. A freaking salad was twenty-five dollars.
“Why?” Gideon asked, raising his gaze and finally acknowledging that I had a face. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”
“The other way around,” I muttered.
“I’m proud to be seen with you, Daisy. You’re an exquisitely beautiful woman,” Gideon said, giving me a look that made all thoughts of the town gossips in the restaurant evaporate.
“Do you use that line a lot?” I asked with a raised brow. “Does it work?”
“Spicy—very, very spicy,” Gideon said with a chuckle. “I like it.”
I squinted up at the ceiling and tried to bite back my grin. It was useless. I liked him. I was crazy. I saw dead people and I liked the Grim Reaper.
“Okay, I’m sorry I was rude,” I apologized, leaning forward on my elbows and resting my chin on my palms. “Let’s start over.”
“I can work with that,” Gideon said. “You look lovely tonight, Daisy.”
“Thank you,” I said. “You must be speaking of the obscenely low neckline and the copious amount of side boob that I’m displaying. Steve insisted I wear the dress. He wasn’t as fond of the one he labeled asexual librarian.”
Gideon’s laugh was addictive. “Okay. That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but it was certainly descriptive. Please send Steve my thanks.”
“I aim to please,” I said. “And you look very handsome, Gideon.”
“Thank you.”
“So, where do you live?” I asked.
Gideon seemed happily taken aback by the question. He’d completely misunderstood, but I wanted the answer. He could think whatever he wanted.
“I have a place in town. One of the historic homes,” he replied. “Would you like the address?”
“Umm… no,” I said with a smile. “That’s not what I meant. I meant when you’re not here… where do you live?”
Gideon eyed me for a moment. “Are you sure you want to ask questions like that, Daisy?”
“I am,” I replied. “You heard more about me this afternoon than anyone should know in a lifetime. It’s only fair.”
“Very well then,” Gideon said, leaning forward so our conversation would stay between the two of us and not be fodder for gossip in our nosey little town. “When I’m not here, I’m nowhere.”
“That makes no sense,” I said, frowning. “You’re cheating.”
“It’s the truth.”
“So, when you’re not here, you don’t exist?” I questioned, trying to figure out if he was pulling my leg. How was that even possible?
“See if you can follow me,” Gideon said, looking suddenly very tired. “If a person were to live… let’s say… forever. And for argument’s sake, I’m not talking a few hundred years. I’m talking forever. You with me?”
I nodded. I was afraid if I spoke, I might tear up.
I could suddenly feel the pain that Steve had seen in Gideon. Plus, Steve would be appalled if I ruined my smoky eyes in the first half hour of my date or whatever this was.
And even though the other patrons might not be able to hear us, they were watching like hawks. I didn’t need it to make the rounds that I cried while out to dinner with the hottest man alive.
“So, one would think this person would partake in all the alluring things life has to offer—multiple times. Most likely the person did,” he said, staring at me with such intensity I felt naked. The dress didn’t help, but it wasn’t the dress. It was the force of his gaze. “After a while, pleasure—physical, spiritual, all pleasure—ceases to have meaning. What was once gratifying, amusing, diverting and entertaining no longer holds any appeal for this person. The world around this person becomes colorless and void of anything that makes sense.”
“What happens to this person?” I whispered, tamping back my instinct to dive across the table and hug the Grim Reaper.
Gideon smiled, but it didn’t reach his beautiful gray-blue eyes. “Not much. This person no longer has the impulse to interact with the physical or the mental. He has no wish to find purpose or significance. Definitions of words like happiness—even anger or desire—lose meaning. If you had all the time in the world, what would you do with it, Daisy?”
“I don’t know.”
“You would fall,” Gideon replied with no emotion in his voice. “You would fall into a mist, hurtling toward an invisible floor that doesn’t exist. You wait for the inevitable, but it never comes.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“You shouldn’t ask questions you’re not prepared to have answered,” he said.
“It’s not that,” I said, trying to figure out what I felt. “I can handle the answer… it simply makes my heart hurt.”
Gideon looked down at the menu. I could tell he wasn’t really seeing it. He glanced up and pinned me with a stare. I felt like I was a butterfly caught in a web of fire.
“And then one day, this person finds something that makes him feel alive again,” he went on as my heart sped up in panic and something I couldn’t define—maybe excitement, maybe fear. “He finds something—or someone—who wakes him up. It’s disconcerting and extraordinary. Very unexpected. Unheard of would be more accurate. At first, he’s angered and confused by the unwanted emotions. He’s done feeling anything. He’s been done for a very long time.”
“Is he still angry?” I asked.
“No. He’s not.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling somehow safer using hypotheticals instead of names—like his or mine. I was walking through landmine here. “So would sex solve his conundrum?”
Gideon smiled and shook his head. “No. That would only take the edge off.”
Not the answer I was looking for.
“Well, that’s certainly interesting and slightly terrifying,” I said. “Since I’m clearly into asking inappropriate questions, I may as well go for the mac daddy. What exactly is this person looking for with the someone he found?”
“Are you man enough to hear the truth?” he asked as a smile pulled at his lips.
“Since I’m not a man—the side boob is proof—no. However, I’m woman enough to handle pretty much anything. The past few weeks have taught me that. I glue body parts onto dead people for crying out loud.”
Gideon’s smile turned into a laugh and my spirits soared. Making him laugh was as addictive as hearing it.
“He wants all of her—her body, her mind, her soul. He wants to be seen by someone who makes him feel alive again. He wants to feel all of the things that he thought were lost to him.”
Closing my eyes, I willed myself not to scream or pass out.
Of course, I’d asked. He’d simply answered.
Of all the ways I’d imagined this evening playing out, this wasn’t one of them. It would be far easier if he just wanted to get into my pants. I was a forty-year-old woman. He was… shit, I had no clue how old he was.
Mutually consensual sex was no big deal between responsible adults. Although, it was a slightly bigger deal to me since I’d been abstinent for so long. But Gideon had just made a quick bang or three infinitely more complicated.
“That’s a tall order,” I whispered.
“Very,” he agreed as the waitress came to the table.
I watched as she practically fell over herself when her eyes landed on Gideon. I could have been buck naked and she wouldn’t have noticed. The man was that pretty.
“What will you have, Daisy?” Gideon asked, ignoring the salivating woma
n taking our order.
“A side salad,” I replied.
“Umm… no,” Gideon replied with a chuckle. “The pork chop is wonderful here.”
“I don’t do pigs,” I told him and then blushed furiously. “That came out a little wrong. I meant I don’t eat pork. I like piglets… they’re cute.”
“Got it,” he said, grinning. “Steak?”
“Not really,” I said, feeling like an idiot. “I mean, I’m not vegetarian or vegan, but…”
“May I order for you?” he asked.
Was there much he didn’t do right? He was such a force of nature I couldn’t believe he asked permission.
“Yes,” I told him. “That would save me from looking at the prices.”
“Fish okay?”
“Yep. I haven’t formed an attachment to sea creatures yet,” I replied.
“Excellent,” he said, eyeing the menu with amusement. “We’ll start with the sea scallops. Two caprese salads, and then we’ll both have the Coho salmon. Also, a bottle of your best pinot noir. Good?”
“Great,” I said, thinking this dinner would cost me an entire paycheck.
Did Gideon have credit cards? Bank accounts? A driver’s license?
How exactly did the Grim Reaper get paid… or did he get paid?
Was Gideon really even a lawyer?
My questions were endless and mind-boggling.
“I’ll be right back with your wine,” the waitress—who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five—said breathlessly.
“Thank you,” Gideon said, dismissing her.
She looked disappointed, but who wouldn’t?
“Are you really a lawyer?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m a lot of things,” he said cryptically. “I’ve had some time on my hands. Getting degrees has been a hobby over the years.”
“That’s kind of cool,” I said with a grin. “What else are you?”
“Seriously?”
“Completely. Are you a doctor?” I inquired.
“Yes.”
“A politician?”
“No. Never had the desire.”
“Don’t blame you,” I said with a shudder. “What else?”
Gideon smiled and sighed. “I’d much rather talk about you, but since you’re so interested… social worker, human rights activist, professor of philosophy, firefighter, sculptor, and the list goes on and on and on.”
It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis : A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel: Good To The Last Death Book One Page 22
