"Protoplasmically challenged individuals?" Vanessa suggested with a sly smile.
Ben had to laugh. "Yeah. Ghosts." He chuckled again. "Is that the politically correct way to refer to them?"
Vanessa grinned. "Who knows? I never met one to ask. But I always strive to be politically correct."
Ben chuckled with her, remembering how un-P.C. she'd been the day before when she'd affected the speech patterns of a southern mammy. "I see."
Emptying the carpet sweeper into a metal trash can, Vanessa spoke again. "About the stuff that once belonged to Ham and Cory… I know about half the stuff in this place is from their time. The thing is… I don't know which. Corrie would know."
"Okay. I'll go ask her." That was exactly the last thing he wanted to do right now. He would have preferred to postpone another meeting until she'd — okay, both of them — had a chance to cool down.
But… if he was going to find anything out about this house and its ghosts… He chuckled. Protoplasmically challenged individuals, he reminded himself. He'd have to talk to Corrie.
He just hoped she'd talk to him.
Chapter Five
Ben stepped outside just in time to see Corrie disappear around the west corner of the house. He waited a moment to see if she was coming back then followed her around onto the shaded lawn.
He rounded that corner just as she hurried around the next one.
"Come on, Corrie," he muttered. "Stop trying to avoid me." That was stupid, even to Ben. As far as he could tell, she wasn't aware he was looking for her. He increased his pace and hurried toward the sunny back yard.
Rounding the corner, he left the coolness of the shady lawn and entered a warm service yard, baking in the sun. He just caught a glimpse of Corrie's faded denim as she disappeared into a door. The door was marked, For Employees Only, he discovered as he reached it. Ben drew in a frustrated breath and raised his fist to knock.
The door gave too easily under his hand, and Ben stepped back. He realized then that Corrie had pulled it open, and he peered into the murky interior trying to see. Corrie backed away, hand at her throat, obviously as startled as he was.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't know you were coming back out," he continued lamely.
"I see." She looked at him as if, perhaps, she didn't.
Sensing her wariness, Ben bristled. He hadn't run her down to hurt her. He willed himself to be calm. "Vanessa told me you could help me discern which items around the house were there in Cory and Ham's time."
Corrie sighed, an aggrieved expression on her face. "Remind me to thank her," she murmured dryly. Then the irritation disappeared, replaced by a placid mask. Ben didn't like that look any better than the first one. "Why do you need to know?" Corrie stepped out of the room, some sort of storage closet, and locked the door.
How many times was he going to have to repeat the same story before he got the information he needed? Even to him, it had begun to sound far-fetched. "I want to see if I can pick up any… vibes from them."
Corrie turned and headed toward the kitchen — or, at least what Ben presumed to be the kitchen. "I thought you hadn't picked up anything."
For lack of anything else to do, Ben followed her. He caught her sleeve and stopped her as she reached for the door. She turned and gave him a warning look.
He let his fingers uncurl from the rough fabric of her work shirt and lowered his hand to his side and flexed his fingers nervously. "That was before last night." He shrugged, not sure he could explain clearly what he was thinking. "Last night seems to have been some sort of turning point…" His voice trailed off because he couldn't come up with a firm explanation of why he felt that way; although, he had a very strong suspicion.
"Would that be before or after the retro thing?" She arched an eyebrow and reached again for the door.
How could he put this so that he didn't sound like an absolute nut case? He took a deep breath and charged on. "I think the kiss…." Corrie winced, but Ben went on. "The kiss was the turning point. I think it opened some kind of window, or door, if you like, and Cory and Ham are out now, trying to communicate with us." Maybe even through us, he didn't tell her. He knew she wasn't ready to hear that yet.
Ben couldn't stop remembering how neither of them had experienced anything other than friendly feelings. Then… He shuddered as he remembered feeling chilly and then completely and inexplicably out of control. Had it been the same for her?
Corrie rolled her eyes and gave him a pained look. "I find that a little hard to believe." She opened the door and stepped inside, leaving the screen to slam in Ben's face.
Glad that he hadn't blurted out what he'd been thinking, Ben yanked open the screen and followed Corrie inside. She was a woman versed in the concrete and technical world of science and computers. She would be much slower to accept the notion of Ham and Cory working through them. Even if she did look so much like Cory it was uncanny. "Well, are you going to help me?" Ben blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior of the kitchen.
****
Corrie poured herself a cup of coffee and raised the steaming liquid to her mouth. Oh how she needed this! Would this morning ever end? Her head ached as if she'd spent all day huddled over her computer debugging a particularly difficult program. She glanced at the clock on the stove. It was barely nine a.m.
Belatedly, she remembered her manners. She was supposed to be a gracious hostess, after all. "You want some?" She waved her hand toward the pot. It was the best she could do.
Ben shook his head. "I've had my quota for the day." He leaned back against the counter and watched as she drank.
Finally, unable to stand any more of his heated gaze, Corrie turned. She closed her eyes, only to see his image burned on the inside of her lids. How had he managed to sear her so with his blue, blue eyes? She sighed. "I'm not at my best at this time of day. Do you think you could find something else to do until this afternoon? Then I'll be glad to point out the older furniture and artifacts."
She could tell that Ben wasn't crazy about her request, but it was a pretty good compromise. Maybe by the time afternoon rolled around, she'd be able to think clearly enough to feel like she had some defenses against him. Corrie glanced back at him.
Ben's shoulders sagged, and his chest seemed to have deflated some, but he responded graciously enough. "All right. I have some research to do at the courthouse in Mobile. I'll be back this afternoon." His tone was mild, but the tense way he stalked out of the room told Corrie more than his words.
She poured another cup of coffee and put it to her mouth. She should have been relieved that he had gone and left her alone, but she felt almost bereft. The room, which had seemed too crowded with him in it, now seemed empty. And cold.
Vanessa bustled in, arms full of towels ready for the washing machine housed in the laundry room under the stairs. "What did you say to him? He barely spoke," she said as she shifted the heap of laundry in her arms. "Acted like he'd just lost his best friend."
Corrie put down her coffee and made a face. "He's put out because I wouldn't give him a grand tour this morning. He'll get over it." She hoped.
Maybe she couldn't put her hands on her hips, thanks to the armload of towels, but it was plain that Vanessa did not approve. "Girl, we ain't gonna make much money here if you keep this up." She reverted to her regular pattern of speech. "You're supposed to be accommodating to the guests. Even if you don't feel like it." She hugged the towels to her and headed on toward the washing machine.
Corrie watched Vanessa go and wondered why Ben had the effect on her that he'd had. Sure, he was an attractive man, but it was more than that. She had been around good-looking men before. She'd always been able to deal with them rationally. At least, she had since she'd finally departed those awful, awkward teenage years. But something about Ben Chastain kept her constantly off balance.
Vanessa came back in. "I've done all my chores. I'm gonna head into the office and get to work."
Corrie heard what Vaness
a said, but with her mind on something — or someone — else, she didn't answer.
"Girlfriend?" Vanessa stood, her hands on her hips, glaring.
"I heard you," Corrie answered dreamily. "Go ahead."
When Vanessa passed her, Corrie had a stray thought. "Do you think I look like Cory Venable?"
Vanessa stopped. "What made you ask that?"
Corrie shrugged. "Ben says I could be Cory's twin. Do I look that much like her?"
"Everybody who's seen you and that picture does. I don't know why you keep questioning it. Why are you asking about that now?"
Corrie drew in a deep breath. Or maybe it was a sigh. "It's just something that Ben said." Or — what he hadn't said. Maybe she was reading too much between the lines of Ben's half-baked theory, but she had a feeling Ben knew more about what had happened in the kitchen than he had told her.
"Well, you do look like her. After all, she was your great-grand-something. Why wouldn't you?" Vanessa pulled open the door, but stopped and tossed one last thought over her shoulder. "Come to think about it, Ben looks a lot like Ham."
****
After a second shower, which Corrie justified as necessary after her bout of weed pulling, she felt much better. She hoped that her behavior this morning had been due only to first morning jitters and didn't foretell of things to come. Vanessa was right when she'd said that she had to put on a better face for the guests in the mornings. However, most of the guests in the future, she hoped, would not make her heart go pitter pat as Ben did.
She'd finally gotten herself alert enough to work for a while on her software project, and for a time managed to stay sufficiently clear headed to keep Ben Chastain and his resemblance to Ham Jordan out of her mind.
But, now that she stood at the front desk, with the likeness of Ham — and Ben — staring over her shoulder, the similarity was impossible to ignore. Sure, Ben's hair was longer and wilder, curling around his face, while Ham's had been combed back in a severe and well-oiled sort of look. The two men did look very much alike. And who knew, if Ham had allowed his hair to grow, it might have been as wavy and wild as Ben's. Corrie lifted the photograph down from its hook on the wall and studied it intently.
The phone rang, its insistent shrill startling her so that she almost dropped the picture. She clutched it to her chest with one hand and reached for the phone with the other. As she tried to listen, her heart beat so loud that she could barely hear the voice on the other end.
Corrie laid the picture carefully down on the counter and covered her unencumbered ear with her free hand. Of course, it did nothing to stop the incessant pounding. "Excuse me a minute," she asked the voice on the other end. "We have some noise here, and I can't hear you." She placed the receiver on the counter and counted to ten, then did every deep-breathing exercise she knew. Finally, the cacophony subsided. "Thank you for waiting," she announced in what she hoped was her most businesslike manner.
It was Jack Jessup, the handyman who did their repair work and the heavy gardening, responding to her earlier message about the lawn. She listened to the man's rambling little speech.
"Sure, Mr. Jessup. I don't mind if Junior cuts the lawn as long as it gets done. We'll expect him this afternoon." She started to put the phone down then added, "I hope your lumbago feels better." Wondering what exactly lumbago was, she hung up the phone.
Remembering the picture she had left face down on the counter, Corrie sighed. Now that Vanessa had pointed out the resemblance between Ham and Ben, it fairly shouted at her. Why hadn't she noticed the resemblance before? She picked up the polished, wooden frame and studied the picture carefully then sighed again.
Benjamin Chastain was such a good kisser.
"Penny for your thoughts," a male voice offered from behind her.
Dreamily, Corrie placed the picture back on the wall and turned to face the devastatingly distracting Dr. Ben Chastain. Her heart started to flip flop, but Corrie willed it to behave. She couldn't keep having her body parts acting up all the time like this. She forced a smile.
"You haven't allowed for today's inflation," she told him cheerfully as she passed him his room key. "That information will cost you a dollar at the current market rate." And me more than that in mortification if you'd known what I'd been thinking just then.
"I meant to stop at an automatic teller machine while I was in town. All I have is…" He reached into his pocket and counted out his change. "…sixty-seven cents. Will that do?"
"Sorry," Corrie answered. "Guess that means I get to keep my thoughts to myself." And she was very glad of it. "How'd your research go?"
"Pretty well," Ben answered as he pocketed his change. "I found a couple of things about Ham and Cory that you might already know, but that surprised me."
"Such as…?"
"The biggest thing is that Ham and I share a name. Sort of. He's Hamilton Benjamin Jordan and I'm Benjamin Hamilton Chastain. It could just be a coincidence, but there's usually some connection between ghost and human to encourage them to communicate."
"So you think Ham is talking to you because you have a similar name?" For Corrie, that seemed to be stretching the notion more than a little bit. But then, her name was Corrine Venable Wallace. Corrie Venable? Had Ben made that connection too? Of course he had.
Ben shrugged. "I know it's a long shot, but it's the only real link I have right now." He turned to go upstairs.
Corrie wondered if she should point out the resemblance to him. On first thought, she decided not to, then changed her mind; the evidence was there staring her in the face. After all, he'd commented on her resemblance to Cory. Turn about was surely fair play here. "I can think of another."
Ben stopped and looked back.
"You look as much like Ham as I do to Cory."
****
"I wondered if they would ever notice it," Cory murmured from her post at the gallery rail above.
Ham glanced at his wife. "Really, dearest? I do not see a resemblance."
Cory laughed. "Neither did he. You'd think something like the way a man combed his hair wouldn't change his face any more than it would his character." She looked down at the man standing by the desk below her. "He is quite striking with all that wonderful, golden hair."
"Humph, the man needs a haircut." Ham paused a moment and added admiringly, "He does have grit, I'll give that to him. Traipsing around with curls like a woman."
"And I suppose next you will denounce women who wear their hair as short as a man does," Cory responded archly. "Why Ham Jordan, you posture worse than any old preacher."
"Well, Benjamin could get his hair cut. It isn't natural for a man to have hair falling all around his shoulders."
"Then why does it grow, dearest?" Cory countered sweetly. "It seems unnatural to constantly cut away something that wants to grow."
Ham had no answer for that.
"And remember when Cousin William wore that ridiculous — what did they call it? Crow cut, I think, where his hair stood on end? Some time about sixty years ago I reckon it was. You hated that too."
"That was a crew cut," Ham replied stiffly. "And it was as stupid as growing one's hair long and curly about one's shoulders."
Cory smiled serenely. "You have always said you love the way my hair curls around my shoulders."
"And I do." Ham's breath caught. "I have longed these last years to experience the feel of your smooth skin and to touch the silky softness of your hair again."
"As you did last night," Cory reminded him with a sigh. "That was wonderful."
"And as I will again," Ham asserted. "We must do what we can to make our Corrie and the professor like each other again."
Cory looked down. "Perhaps, they're on the way. They do look as if they are getting along better now."
****
Ben turned around and came slowly back to the registration desk. He wasn't certain what he thought he'd heard, but he wouldn't ask Corrie to repeat it.
"You do look like Ham," Corrie said as i
f she'd been reading his mind. "Come look." She took the picture down from the wall.
He had to stop himself from snatching it out of her hand. How could he have missed something like that?
Corrie handed him the small, framed photograph. "Do you see it now?"
Ben closed his fingers over the cool, glass-filled frame. He scrutinized the picture again. The last time he'd been too busy comparing the two Corries to pay much attention to Ham. But now he could see it in black and white. Hamilton Benjamin Jordan stared back at him, looking much as Ben had when he'd been a marine. After wearing that stupid, jar-head haircut for four long years, he'd sworn he'd never wear short hair again. And so far, he'd kept that promise.
"Yes. I see it," he grudgingly agreed. And it was becoming more and more apparent why Ham and Cory had chosen now to make an appearance after all that time.
"Quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say?" Corrie took the picture from him and put it back where it belonged. "I wonder what it means."
After today's jaunt to the hall of records, the significance was beginning to gel in Ben's mind. He wondered how much he should tell her. Or should he just wait and see how events played themselves out? He looked into Corrie's sea-green eyes and knew he couldn't keep her completely in the dark. He cleared his throat.
"Did you know that the third of June will be the anniversary of Cory and Ham's marriage? And their deaths."
Corrie shook her head, a troubled look on her face. "I knew it happened in the summer, but I didn't know the exact date. Would there be something significant in that?"
"There could be," Ben answered slowly. "Anniversaries tend to figure prominently in paranormal activities."
****
All Corrie could do was stare uncomprehendingly at Ben Chastain. Why did he feel he had to tell her that? And why did he have to come barging into her life, upsetting all her carefully laid plans? A thought struck her. If Ben had never come, none of this would be happening now.
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