"To Hilary's mom's."
Fear enters his eyes, and he shakes his head. "No way."
* * *
Kevin finally agreed to visit Mrs. Porter with me. We stood in front of our cars debating it for nearly ten minutes. I think his guilt for not being there for his mother-in-law since Hilary's death and after the funeral is the reason he agreed. With Kevin's reluctance, I offered to drive us both to Freeport. I figured there was a chance he'd not actually go, but so far he's been true to his word. I keep glancing into my rearview mirror and seeing his car.
When we pull up to her apartment building and he parks beside me, I let out a deep breath. I'm not sure why I want this so badly. Maybe because I believe it will do both of them good. Of course, I'm not sure how she feels about him, so I could have just forced a disaster that leaves everyone in tears. Yay, me.
I step out of my air-conditioned car, and despite it not being as humid as previous nights, it's still sticky and gross.
Kevin's walk to the door is slow and hesitant.
When he's within reach, I pat his shoulder. "You got this. Don't worry."
"She probably thinks I did it. She's going to hate me. Why would she want to see me?"
Oh yeah, I kinda didn't mention that Tanya asked us to come by and that Mrs. Porter doesn't even know. There's no reason to tell him now. He'd surely turn and flee.
"Come on," I say and knock.
The door opens, and Tanya is standing there looking ever so perky in a baby blue coverup with her hair in a ponytail. It looks damp, which suggests, with her outfit, that she's been swimming.
"Hey," she says. "I'm glad you could make it."
"Of course. Anything for Mrs. Porter," I say.
Tanya gives another hey to Kevin, but it's reserved. Then she walks into the living room and lets us enter.
"This is a bad idea," Kevin whispers after shutting the door.
I have nothing to say.
We step into the living room as Tanya heads to the bedrooms.
"Have a seat. I'll be right back," she says over her shoulder.
I'm way too antsy to sit. I wonder if Steven is home and how he and Kevin will greet each other. Will it be like with Enzo? I have no idea what Steven's temperament is like. As a kid, he was a typical brat.
Kevin starts fidgeting. "I could leave and come back another time."
I roll my eyes. I'm already tired of his cowardly lion routine. I almost miss his aggressive side. Okay, not exactly. I point to the armchair by the front windows and bark, "Sit."
Surprisingly, he does as told without a word. Oooh, I need to try my assertive side more often.
Light footsteps sound, and Tanya and Mrs. Porter come into view. The older woman is shuffling her feet. She's dressed in a mauve-colored house dress and beige slippers. Her hair is down and frizzy, as if she just woke up or has been lying down for a while. She sees me, and the wounded look on her face softens.
I go to her, wanting to comfort her before she sees Kevin. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all. I hold out my arms and pull her in for a big hug.
She holds on tight, and soft sobs gently shake her body.
I wish there were something I could say or do to make it better.
"Thank you for coming," she whispers when we release each other.
"I hope you don't mind that I brought someone." I half turn so she can see Kevin.
He rises but stays by the chair.
I glance at Tanya, who looks as nervous as I feel, and then back to Mrs. Porter.
At first she has a pinched expression, and I'm suddenly scared she's going to yell at him to get out. That won't do either of them any good, although I couldn't blame her if she believes he killed her daughter. But her eyes well up, and she reaches out a hand.
In the next moment, Kevin is charging forward. I take several steps back so I'm not trampled on. Then Kevin and Mrs. Porter are hugging and heavily sobbing.
Tanya's wide-eyed surprise matches my own. She points to the kitchen, and I follow.
She puts on the kettle, and I gather four mugs from a cabinet she points at.
"Is Steven here?" I ask and reach for a fifth.
"No. He's working." She grabs a box of tea bags. "And it's just as well. Steven just told me he believes Kevin killed Hilary."
That's not surprising. It's what most people probably think.
"Does he have any reason other than Kevin being her husband?"
Tanya shrugs. "He knows they argued some, or at least that's what Hilary hinted at. With their schedules, they didn't speak often, so he doesn't know much, but she mentioned a few times that they weren't compatible."
"Did Steven ask why they stayed together, then?"
"I don't know."
"And that's the only reason Steven thinks Kevin killed her?" I ask.
"That and how it's usually the spouse. Like I told you at the diner, I don't think he did it, but I don't know him."
I glance at them through the archway.
They are now seated on the couch, hunched over and holding hands. From my angle, I can see Kevin's face. It's wet from tears, red, and he looks to be in so much pain. That can't be a man who killed his wife.
"It's good that you brought him over though," Tanya says just before the kettle whistles.
"Yeah." I smile because, despite the agony they are going through, I'm glad I listened to my gut.
Tanya and I silently fix the tea, and before long I hear Mrs. Porter's soft laugh.
I freeze for a second and glance at Tanya. We exchange smiles and carry the tea into the living room.
Mrs. Porter looks up at us, and she's still grinning "I am thrilled to see both of you today. Thank you."
Tanya hands out the piping hot mugs.
"I am sorry I didn't stop by after the funeral," Kevin says. His head is hung, and he will only look at Mrs. Porter.
She pats his hand. "I understand, and I need you to know that I never believed you hurt my precious girl."
The tears and pain in her voice constricts my chest.
"Excuse me," I whisper and go to the bathroom. I need a few minutes alone so that I don't start crying and make Mrs. Porter feel worse.
I shut the door, turn on the light, and lean against the sink. Three deep breaths and I feel momentarily calmer. Then a chill flows through me, and I look up, into the mirror, and see Hilary behind me.
She appears so straight that she looks stiff. Her face is devoid of any expression.
We just stare at one another.
Mrs. Porter's laughter floats through the walls. I should feel calmer, but staring at Hilary makes me think about how neither of them will ever be able to laugh together again. No more hugs, Mother's Day celebrations, holidays…
I squeeze my eyes shut. No, I can't think of this. It hurts too much. Plus…I feel my resolve slipping. I'm going to have to truly deal with my own feelings soon enough. Yes, I've been telling myself that I don't care, but come on, Gianna. Normally I'm a big bundle of feels. I'd rather deal with this now than come to some sort of crash or break down in six months and wish I had, because it will be too late once Hilary has moved on.
I open my mouth and eyes at the same time to say something, but she's gone. I'm not sure if it's good or not because now I get more time to figure out what I want to say.
When I get back to the living room, Mrs. Porter and Kevin are still clutching hands. Tanya nods toward the kitchen, and I follow her back in there again.
"I figure they should talk alone," she says and jumps up and sits on the counter.
"That's a good idea. They probably need it." I have no reason to be here anymore. Kevin has his own car. I should get going.
"So it's weird seeing you and Kevin together," Tanya says. "I thought Steven said that the two of you can't stand each other."
I give out a nervous chuckle. "We did. Or I thought we did. It's complicated and goes back to when we were kids," I say.
"Wait, Hilary knew him for that long?" she asks.
"No. Well, she may have seen him at my house, but they didn't truly start hanging out until she was in college. He was friends with my sister, so I met him when I was around twelve."
"Wow, I hadn't realized your relationship went back that far," she says.
"Yeah, over most of our lives."
"Did you and Kevin ever…hook up?" she asks with a wicked grin. "I mean, he is hot."
Is he? I guess if you find bullies attractive. But it also feels like an odd thing to say when the man's wife just died and you're engaged to his brother-in-law.
"No, never." I try to not visibly shudder at the idea. Kevin and I may be in a truce and I no longer want to verbally attack him, but that doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to forget how he…how we treated each other over the years. There is no way to wrap our pasts up in a pretty bow and turn it into something sexual.
She shrugs and is still smiling. "I hear hate sex is hot."
"Not for me." Especially not with him.
She chuckles and kicks her feet back and forth, coming just short of banging her heels into the cabinet below. "I'm glad Mom is having a good night now."
"Me too."
The room gets cooler, and I look over to see Hilary by the fridge.
"Why did you bring him here?" she asks.
I frown and then widen my eyes at Tanya, as a sign that I can't very well answer her.
She scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. "Just admit your stupid gift already so that I can have a better afterlife."
My blood pressure rises. Is she making this only about her? Again.
"Michael called Hilary selfish. I understand why," I say and raise a brow to the fridge.
"Stop being a baby," Hilary yells at me.
Tanya looks lost. "Oh yeah? I got the impression they were friendly."
I chuckle. "Oh, they were. Very. They were having an affair."
Hilary groans and balls up her fists. "You witch!"
Tanya's eyes widen. She almost stumbles to her knees as she jumps off the counter. She steps closer and lowers her voice. "Really? Did he tell you this?"
"He confirmed it."
"He's a good guy," Hilary says. "Leave him out of this."
For all I know, he could've killed Hilary. It's not like I believe all she says. But I shouldn't be gossiping about him either. Now I wish I hadn't said a word. Me and my anger.
"But what gave you the thought?" Tanya asks.
I think of Hilary's neighbor Brenda and say, "Someone saw him at her place one night."
Tanya stares into my eyes and then smirks. "Your brother told you. Don't worry. I won't say anything and get him in trouble."
"Thanks," I say and turn away. Shoot, I hope I didn't just start a half-truth rumor.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning, I'm woken to ringing coming from my cell phone. Right next to my head. Oh, it's so loud. I reach out and fumble for it on the nightstand and nearly push it to the floor. But I grab it just in time and see Winnie's name at the top of the display. I swipe to accept the call and notice it's barely seven a.m. Why on earth…?
As I place the phone against my ear, something crashes on her end, and she yelps.
I spring up into a sitting position and kick the sheet off my legs. "Winnie? Are you okay?"
"Gianna. I need your help. Now. The ghost."
Oh no.
"I'm on my way."
I do a mad dash of finding clothes and brushing my teeth. I'm not sure what my hair looks like because I don't stand in front of any mirror long enough, but it's hot, so I'm throwing it into a messy bun anyway.
Thankfully, most of the traffic lights are in my favor, and the stop signs… Well, let's just say I'm glad I know a couple of cops just in case.
When I pull up in front of Winnie's house, she immediately appears at her door. She's been watching out for me. This really can't be good.
Her street is busier this time with people leaving their homes and going to their cars. There's some chatter between spouses or parents and kids. It's mostly a blur as I jump out of my Kia and run to Winnie. I don't know if I'm making a spectacle of myself, and from the very deep frown on her face, I don't think Winnie minds either.
"What is it?" I breathlessly ask. Someday I'm seriously going to work out.
She grabs my arm, yanks me inside, and gently pushes me into the living room.
I'm pretty sure my mouth hangs open.
Everything, and I mean everything, is floating or flying around the room. Okay, that's a lie. The massive TV is still on the wall, but the furniture is floating and anything light enough to pick up with one hand—like the remote and lamps—are literally drag racing in midair.
I glance at Winnie, who looks more scared than shocked. "What happened?"
She shrugs, still staring at her flying decor.
Oh, come on. Something started this.
"Is there a room where gravity still exists?" I ask.
She nods and turns to the hall. She opens the first door, and we enter a guest bedroom. It's dim in here, but she walks to the front windows and opens the drapes, revealing a soft yellow comforter on a full-size bed, pastel yellow walls, a white dresser and nightstands, and a large sunflower-shaped throw pillow in the center of the bed.
"I found out more information on my ghost," Winnie says. "And when I told her… Well, I wasn't certain she was in the room, but it felt like it. So I told her, and that started."
"So basically she didn't like what you said and is having a tantrum."
Winnie nods.
"What did you learn?" I ask.
"There was a woman fitting your description of my ghost that died on the property behind mine."
Oh, interesting.
"She fell off her back stoop and hit her head on the pavement. This was sixty years ago. It was an accident, according to the news article. Her name was Betty Fisher. She had been a schoolteacher."
"Just like you," I say.
Winnie nods. "I wonder if that's our connection, why she's here and not haunting my neighbors."
"Who lives in that house now?" I ask.
She appears to be thinking when something smacks against a wall, and we both flinch.
I peek my head out the door and into the hall. Everything is still spinning. How is this ghost doing that for so long? She's going to be wiped out soon, which isn't a bad thing for Winnie.
Poor woman. She doesn't deserve this. No one does.
The heck with this.
I march back into the entry of the living room. I'm not dumb. If I go too far in, I'll likely be knocked unconscious. "Ghost!" I shout.
Yeah, not your best idea, Gi.
"Betty Fisher!"
Suddenly everything stops moving and holds in mid-air.
Winnie is behind me, and she lets out a deep breath.
I must admit it's pretty cool. This ghost has mad skills.
Then just as fast as stopping, everything falls. The lamps crash and shatter, the furniture lands and causes enough momentum that the front drapes ruffle and a low vibration spreads under my feet. The remote's battery cover flies off, a decorative ashtray breaks, and glass from picture frames cracks.
The ghost flickers before me several times before appearing mostly solid. Oh yeah, she's drained.
"Stop this instant," I say, trying to sound like I have any authority in this situation.
Betty looks at me with defiance, but I have a feeling she can't do too much about it right now.
"It's not Winnie's fault that you died. And this isn't where it happened. You're haunting the wrong property." I hold out my arm and point in the backyard's direction.
Not that I want this woman to haunt anyone, but Winnie is innocent.
Betty turns her head slightly, and I wonder if she's thinking about what I said. Before I have time to ask her, she vanishes.
I take a big breath and say, "She's gone."
For now at least.
Winnie places a hand on my shoulder. "Thank y
ou, Gianna. You don't know how much you've helped. I didn't know what to do."
"It's fine. I'm happy to. Now let me help you clean up this mess."
She tightens her grip. "No, I can do that later."
I face her. "Are you sure? 'Cause I don't mind."
She smiles. It isn't as vibrant as her usual ones, but it's not strained and full of fear either. "Really. This was my husband's room, and I'd like to put it back together myself."
Of course.
"Let's have some tea though, okay? I could use some chamomile for my nerves." Her laughter is light.
I follow her through the destroyed living room, careful to not step on anything I can further damage, through the dining room, and into the sunroom. Winnie rushes off into the kitchen, and I stand at the windows facing her backyard. I can't see much of the next property with the line of shrubs separating them. The house must be a one-story, like this one and the others on the street, because I can see the roof but no second floor.
What if Betty goes over there and starts terrorizing them? Am I supposed to follow her around and keep trying to reason with her? It's one thing doing it with Winnie. She knows my secret. But total strangers? Yeah, I can't.
I think of Hilary and her insistence on me telling everyone my secret. If I didn't keep it quiet and others, even strangers, learned the truth, then what? Would I even be able to leave my house? Would reporters and people wanting to speak to their dead loved ones follow and chase me around town? I don't mind helping others out. There's no way I could help everyone. There isn't enough free time in my day. Although I'll admit I have more than usual lately.
Plus, there are so many skeptics and people who would try to disprove it all, and I don't want to spend the energy dealing with that. And last but furthest from least, what about the science community? Would they want to poke and prod me? Secret government groups wanting to do experiments and deranged people who don't have compassion or empathy. Okay, so maybe the last two aren't likely. I hope. But the whole idea still makes my skin crawl.
I sit at the table and wait for Winnie. I hear the teakettle and some cabinet doors. I pull my phone from my bag and check to see if I have any texts or messages I missed with the commotion. Nothing. My stomach sinks. I still haven't heard from Julian. I get that he's annoyed, but in the past, I don't think we've gone more than eight hours without a text, even if it's just a silly emoji.
Diamonds, Pies & Dead Guys Page 15
