Emily nodded. “Sure, yeah, okay.”
“You need to stay away from Caster. He’s a dog, a womanizer. You know he can’t be faithful. And he’ll definitely never marry you.”
Her heart hurt for him, and she offered a sympathetic smile. “I know it’s hard for you, seeing me with another man, but Caster makes me happy.”
“He’s all wrong for you. You want different things.”
She shrugged. “I’m not so sure anymore. Maybe we’ve both changed. Maybe we can want the same thing. He’s different. I feel I can trust him now.”
Joey let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, really? Maybe you won’t be quite so trusting when I tell you what he’s doing.”
A tremor of dread skittered through her. “What do you mean?”
“Caster has been playing you all along. He came back into your life, because I insisted. I wouldn’t leave him alone until he agreed to romance you.”
She shook her head. “No, Caster wouldn’t…and why would you do that? Why would you want me with him, then warn me away from him? None of this makes sense.”
“I wanted him to come between you and Ken. I knew the jerk was out for your money, and I needed someone to put an end to his scheme. I was afraid you’d marry him.”
A chasm opened in her stomach, filling with an ache so strong, she couldn’t draw a full breath. “So, you convinced Caster to pursue me.” Her voice sounded as hollow as her heart felt.
“Right. I even coached him on your favorite things. The roses, the chocolate, the wine. That was all me.
She sniffed. “And the peach pancakes.”
Joey let out a sigh. “If you need any more convincing, check out the date he started volunteering at the nursing home. That was another ploy to win you over. He started the day he accidentally ran into you at the coffee shop.”
Needles of agony pierced her heart. Maybe it was true. Was Joey telling the truth?
“And his deception started a long time ago. The only reason you and I met is because Caster wanted to push you off on another man, so you wouldn’t try to hang onto your relationship with him. He timed the break up perfectly, just after he introduced you to me.”
She shook her head from side to side. “No, that’s not…he wouldn’t do that.”
“I’m afraid he would. I’d like to say I’m sorry. I knew what he was doing at the time, but I’m not sorry. Because it gave me you. And you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. That’s why I want to protect you. Even after my death.”
Tears she’d been fighting flowed freely down her cheeks. This was too much. Joey here, but not here. Now, she’d have to grieve him all over again. And the pain of Caster’s betrayal. Shouldn’t she have known better? How could she have thought, for one second, she could trust him?
Joey glanced over his shoulder. “He’s coming. I’m going to…well, I’ll leave you two alone. I’m sure you have a lot to say to him.”
Emily nodded, unable to speak around the knot in her throat. When Caster and John approached, she brushed tears from her cheeks and said to John, “Can you give us a moment? If you’ll go see the young lady at the desk over there, she’ll show you around.”
“Sure.” He frowned, looking between the two of them, then headed toward the desk.
“What is it, Emily? What’s wrong?”
She brought her gaze up to his face—his gorgeous, lying face. “When did you start volunteering at the nursing home?
He frowned, then chuckled. “What? Where did that come from?”
“Just answer me, please.”
He didn’t speak. Was he debating whether to tell her the truth? Or searching his mind for a plausible lie?
The cold blast of air came again. She shivered, and Joey materialized, standing next to Caster.
Caster shot him a look, then plastered an innocent expression on his face. “I don’t remember, exactly, but I can check it out and let you know.”
He was pretending Joey wasn’t there, thinking she couldn’t see him. Boy, was he a piece of work. She shook her head. “It won’t be necessary. I know exactly when. It was the day I saw you at the coffee shop.”
“What? How do you know that?”
She pointed at Joey. “He told me.”
Caster closed his eyes. “Ah, hell.”
“So it’s true. All of this with…us…was a lie. You only spent time with me because my dead husband forced you to.”
Caster scowled at Joey. “How could you do this, man? How could you hurt her like this?”
Joey shook his head. “No way. You’re not putting this on me. You’re the one who hurt her. I just made her see it before it was too late.” He turned to Emily. “I’m heading out now.”
“Will I see you again?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be around. I’m stuck here until you find the happiness you’re looking for. I’m sorry about my part in this.”
She nodded. “I know you were trying to protect me.”
He reached out a hand toward her, then blinked out in the darkness.
She turned back to Caster. “You can go now. We’ll handle these last few nights without a Michael Myers. And, if you want to take Freddy with you, that’s fine, too. We’ll manage.”
“Please don’t do this, Emily. Give me a chance to explain.”
“Unless your explanation involves proof that what Joey said was a lie, I’m not interested.”
He lifted his hands, then let them drop to his sides. “He wasn’t lying. But you’re wrong about my spending time with you because Joey forced me to. That’s the way it started, but I care for you. Really care. I don’t want this to end.”
She curved her mouth into a sarcastic smile. “Well, since a good time isn’t what I’m looking for, and since the jig is up, it’s no longer necessary for you to hang around. Please leave.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to lose you.”
“No, really, it’s fine. I’m sure Joey will leave you alone now. He’s probably off tormenting some other guy into dating me.” She lifted her chin and took a deep breath. “Goodbye, Caster.” She turned and walked away, forcing herself to not look back. To keep her head high, though the leaves crunching beneath her feet mirrored the cracking of her heart.
Chapter Eight
One week later
Man, am I the biggest dick on Earth, or what? Joey leaned against the counter and watched Emily move around the kitchen like a zombie—a heartbroken zombie. He’d been watching her for days, hoping she’d snap out of it, realize learning the truth about Caster was the best thing for her. And now she could move on. But she didn’t look like a woman who would ever be ready to move on.
He was forced to admit a truth he’d denied since he’d met her. Even during their marriage, Caster had occupied a piece of her heart. She might not have been fully in love with him—Joey was pretty sure these past few weeks and the peach pancakes had pushed her into the love zone—but Caster had always been there between them. Like the ghost of a past love. He chuckled at the irony.
And now, the only woman he’d ever loved, the woman he’d do anything to protect, was miserable. Caster wasn’t faring any better. He looked like a man who’d been beaten down by life, and then life had dealt him a nice, hard kick to the balls, just for good measure. They both had Joey to thank for this. Nice job, dick head.
“I’m so sorry, Emily.” He resisted the urge to kiss her cheek—neither of them would feel it anyway—and headed to Caster’s.
****
Caster rolled out of bed and glanced bleary-eyed at the clock on his nightstand. Seven a.m. on a Saturday, and he was up. Could be because he hadn’t been able to sleep well in the past week. Nothing unusual for him, but this time, he couldn’t blame it on his party life style. He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol—or a woman—since Joey had made an appearance and his life a living hell.
He pushed to his feet and went into the kitchen, stuck a pod in the Keurig, and closed the lever. The machine was making its last few spitting
gurgles when icy air filled the room. Damn.
Caster swigged down half the coffee and turned to scowl at Joey. “If you’re here to gloat, be done with it and get the hell out.”
“I’m not here to gloat.”
“Then what do you want?”
“You’re one miserable son of a bitch, aren’t you?” Joey didn’t wait for an answer. He chuckled. “You really love her.”
Caster shook his head, knowing it was a lie as the words left his lips. “I do not. I just didn’t like hurting her like that.”
“Huh. Looks like you hurt yourself, too.”
“Whatever. Is there a point to all of this?”
Joey shrugged, then said softly, “Go after her. Tell her how you feel.”
Caster shot him an incredulous look. “Are you out of your mind? You drop a bombshell that breaks us apart, now you’re telling me to go after her? What kind of sick game are you playing?”
Joey shook his head. “Not a game. My job is to make sure Emily’s happy. From the looks of her, that’s going to be impossible. Without your help.”
In spite of himself, Caster’s interest was piqued. “What do you mean, from the looks of her?”
“She’s as miserable as you are. I’ve never seen two more miserable human beings, and I’ve seen a butt load of dead people.”
Caster grudgingly smiled. “So what do you want me to do? It’s too late.”
“Ha! Too late is when you’re in my shoes. As long as you’re breathing, there’s hope. Now, get your ass over there. Unless you want me and the Louisville Slugger to give you another show.”
Caster considered for just a moment, then drained his mug and headed for the shower.
****
Emily stalked toward her house, pausing to divide the trash from the haunted forest into the recycling bins. God, was she relieved it was over. They’d raised a good deal of money, but the last few weeks had taken a toll on her heart, and her spirit. To think that her husband’s ghost was out there…watching. She shuddered. Then, of course, there was the fiasco with Caster. How could she have been so gullible? So blind?
“Emily.”
She spun around. Caster stood on her porch, looking devilishly sexy in jeans, a black oxford shirt, and brown leather jacket.
“What are you doing here? I think we said all we had to say to one another.”
He shook his head. “Huh uh, not me.”
She brushed her hands on the seat of her jeans and crossed her arms. “Say it and leave.”
He stepped off the porch and sauntered toward her. She held her breath, fighting the urge to step back. She would not retreat. Would not show him the effect he had on her.
“I never said I love you.”
The words lanced her heart. Words she’d wanted to hear—for years, if she were honest. But now, they rang hollow. She knew they were false.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re up to now, but I really am over this. Please just go.”
“I have a note.”
She raised her brows. He wore a charming, sheepish smile that wreaked havoc with her insides. “A note?”
“From Joey.”
“You’re kidding, right? My husband’s ghost wrote a note?”
“He wanted to tell you some things, but didn’t think it was a good idea to appear to you again. He didn’t want to upset you. He really just wants to be able to move on. He wants you to move on, too.” He held a folded sheet of paper toward her.
She hesitated, then snatched it from his hand. The quicker she read it, the quicker she could get this over with.
She unfolded the note, tears rising in her throat at the familiar scrawl.
Dear Emily,
I’ve wronged you, deeply, and I can never say how sorry I am. I claimed I wanted your happiness, but I came between you and the only person who can give it to you. Yes, I mean Caster. He really does love you. I know I didn’t listen to you like I should when we were married. I know I didn’t make you feel special, but you are. Very special. You deserve a man who knows that and who values you, who listens to you. I didn’t tell Caster about the peach pancakes. I didn’t even remember that you loved them. He did. I know it’s not exactly moving mountains, but it’s something…right? Please don’t let me stand between you and the happiness you deserve. I can’t rest until you’re happy. And, I’ve grown weary of straddling two worlds. I’m ready to move on. So should you be.
All my love for eternity,
Joey
Emily lifted her face to Caster, not even caring about the tears that flowed down her cheeks. “Is it true, did you remember the pancakes yourself?”
Caster nodded and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “Yeah. I knew they were special to you. I thought you could use some cheering up.”
She was touched, but that didn’t mean she could trust him. She waved the paper in the air. “I’m not sure what to do about this. I mean, I want Joey to move on, but I’m not sure being with you is what will make me happy. You’ve caused me too much heartache over the years.”
“Things are different now. I promise. I can’t lose you again. I meant what I said. I’ve fallen in love with you.”
She shrugged. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t really matter, does it? Since we want different things.”
“All I know is I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. I’ll even do the whole marriage thing if that’s what it takes to keep you.”
She let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, would you really? Oh wow, I must be the luckiest woman in the world that you would suffer through the whole, dreaded marriage thing for me.”
He huffed out a breath. “That didn’t come out right. Marriage has never held appeal, but when I’m with you, somehow it does. You are the only woman I can see spending the rest of my life with.”
God. He was wearing her down. But could she trust him? Her heart couldn’t take another hit.
He stepped closer, and this time, she did back up. “Don’t run from me, Emily. It’s truth time.”
“Truth time?”
He narrowed his eyes on her, and she was powerless to look away. “Do you love me?”
“That—it doesn’t matter. We’ll never work. I can’t—”
He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. His head tilted forward, and he captured her lips with his. She clung to him, returning the kiss, drowning in sensations only Caster could evoke.
“Do you love me,” he murmured against her lips.
She tugged away, and he released her. Shoving a strand of hair behind her ear, she let out a sigh. “Yes, dammit, yes, I love you. So now what?”
A grin split his face, lighting his ice green eyes. “Now, we get married and make babies.”
She laughed. “Really?”
“Oh, yes, most definitely.”
She saw the sincerity, the love in his eyes, and knew she could trust him with her heart. Stepping into the circle of his arms, she turned her face up for his kiss.
A blast of icy wind surrounded them, and she looked over her shoulder. Joey appeared behind her, wearing a sad, loving smile. He lifted his hand in a wave, then faded away.
A word about the author...
Alicia Dean lives in Edmond, Oklahoma, and is the mother of three grown children. Alicia loves creating spine-chilling stories that keep readers on the edge of their seats. She’s a huge Elvis Presley fan, and loves MLB and the NFL. If you look closely, you’ll see a reference to one or all three in pretty much everything she writes. If she could, she would divide all her time between writing, watching her favorite television shows—such as Dexter (before it was canceled; she’s still hoping he comes back), Vampire Diaries, Justified, and True Blood—and reading her favorite authors...Stephen King, Dennis Lehane, Michael Connelly, Lee Child, and Lisa Gardner, to name a few.
Find her here:
Email: [email protected]
Website: http://aliciadean.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/page
s/Alicia-Dean/131939826889437?ref=br_tf
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Alicia_Dean_
~*~
Other Alicia Dean titles
available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
END OF LONELY STREET (January, 2015)
KILLER LOVE (boxed set with 4 suspense stories)
NOTHING TO FEAR
TEARS OF THE WOUNDED
POETIC INJUSTICE
TRULY MADLY
THICKER THAN WATER
A KNIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
Crimson Summer
by
Cecilia Farrell
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Crimson Summer
COPYRIGHT © 2014 by C. J. Farrell
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Black Rose Edition, 2014
Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-564-7
Halloween Anthology 2014
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For my mother. I miss you.
He said, “I’m here to help. To listen to your story. You understand that, don’t you?”
She laughed harshly. “You won’t believe my story.”
“Don’t you think it will help to talk about it?”
“No.” She looked at the wide mahogany desk, the diplomas on the wall, the faded (but genuine) Persian rug on the floor. The chairs they both sat in were smooth black leather. The bookcase held expensive reference books, a big conch shell, and a nineteenth-century clipper in a bottle. The walls were painted a pale butter yellow with a few soothing watercolours hung for effect.
Hauntings in the Garden, Volume One Page 10
