Bound Spirits

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Bound Spirits Page 2

by Jean Marie Bauhaus

“Right. I…” She trailed off as she spotted what had gotten Dead Phil’s attention. He had stopped to talk to a petite young woman with short, blonde curls. Very familiar curls. “What the…”

  “What is it?”

  “I’ll be right back.” Chris got up from the table and headed out to the parking lot. Making her way across the lot, she kept her eyes on the ghostly pair. The blonde spoke animatedly to the transient.

  Chris had almost reached them when the homeless ghost shuffled away, fading from sight as he went. The blonde watched him go with a grin on her face. Her smile grew brighter as she finally noticed Chris approaching. “Hey, sis! What are you doing here?”

  “You stole my line. Ron, did you follow us here?”

  “What? No. It’s a total coincidence.”

  “You know I don’t believe in coincidences. Why are you here?”

  Her sister’s spirit let out an exasperated huff of non-breath. “I had some news for Burt. He asked me to check up on his estranged daughter.”

  “Burt?”

  Ron jerked her chin in the direction Dead Phil had disappeared. “I saw him approaching you the other night when I tagged along on that taco run and I headed him off at the pass.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Why would I? It was nothing I couldn’t handle. Anyway, he agreed to meet me here tonight to find out what I learned.”

  Chris felt a little ashamed of her suspicion. Ron could sometimes be a meddler, but her heart was always in the right place. And ever since Chris’s abduction last spring, Ron and her partner Joe were more protective than ever. They’d been running interference with the spirits who came to Chris for help so she could recover and focus on her new relationship with Derek. Chris appreciated the help.

  “Is there anything I can help with?” she asked.

  “Nope, it’s handled. You should go back to Derek. He’s probably wondering why you’re out here talking to yourself.”

  “Derek can wait a minute. I need to ask…” She bit her lip. Ron was out here doing something nice for her. Still, Gus made her wonder. “You weren’t out at the Hex House lot tonight, were you?”

  “No. Why would I be?”

  “No reason.” She waved away the notion. “Something was out there—”

  “Really? I thought that place was all tapped out.”

  “I did too, but something showed up. It wouldn’t show itself, but Derek got some good footage for his next video, so that’s something. Anyway, Gus is convinced that you were there messing with us.”

  “Yeah, well, Gus can go ahead and—”

  Chris’s back pocket rang before Ron could finish her instructions for Gus, which Chris doubted she’d want to deliver anyway. She held up a finger and pulled out her phone, expecting Derek to be calling to see what was taking her so long. Her surprise at the caller ID filled her voice as she said, “It’s Dad.”

  Ron’s eyes widened. “This late? I hope everything’s okay.”

  Chris answered. “Hey, Dad. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Drew Wilson’s voice crackled with static. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I thought you’d be in bed. I was going to leave a voice mail.”

  “Well, I’m up, so I guess you can tell me why you called.”

  “Marsha and I were wondering if you had any plans tomorrow night. We’re heading up there in the morning and were hoping we could all have dinner. Derek too, if he’s available.”

  Chris winced. She’d love to see her dad, but dinner with his girlfriend was always a torturous affair. Still, she couldn’t think of a good excuse. “Sure. I mean, I’ll have to check with him, but I can do dinner. Tell me when and where.”

  “What about your place?”

  Chris paused and looked at Ron, who looked back at her questioningly. “My place? Really?”

  “Sure. You’ve been bugging me to come see that house of yours.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s just that you’ve never—”

  “I think it’s time. Besides, Marsha and I have some news, and it’s not really something I want to announce in a crowded restaurant.”

  “News? What kind of news?”

  “Nothing bad. You’ll find out tomorrow night. Listen, I’ve got to get off and wrap some things up so I can turn in. We’ve got to get an early start tomorrow. We should be to your place by seven, if that works for you.”

  “Um, okay. Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

  “Great. Now get to bed, kiddo. Love you.” He hung up without waiting for a reply. Chris stared at her phone, feeling slightly ambushed.

  “What’s going on?”

  Chris looked from the phone to her sister. “Dad’s coming over for dinner tomorrow night.”

  “He’s coming to the house? Really?”

  “Yeah. He said it’s time.”

  Ron’s eyebrows crawled up into her bangs. “What does that mean? Time for what?”

  “Time to face where you died, maybe?”

  “I doubt that.” As usual, Ron was dismissive of the idea that their father grieved her passing in any way. “He probably means it’s time to get over himself and come see where his only daughter lives. And he’s right about that.”

  “Anyway, he’s bringing Marsha, so you’ll finally get to see what she’s like.”

  “Not unless she comes up to the attic, I won’t. I think Joe and I will keep out of the way.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Chris glanced at the phone. “He said they have news.”

  “Good news or bad news?”

  “He said it’s not bad, but that could be subjective.”

  “You don’t think… I mean, they’ve been together a while now. Do you think—”

  Chris held up a hand to cut her off. “Don’t say it.”

  “But you’re thinking it.”

  “I’m trying not to think about it.”

  “What else could it be?”

  “I don’t know. Lots of things. Maybe Dad won the lottery, or got a new job. Or maybe they got a new puppy.”

  Ron smiled. “You’re cute when you’re in denial.”

  “Yeah, well.” Chris pocketed her phone. “I’m going back in to tell Derek. If you won’t be there for moral support, at least he will.”

  “And you can tell me all about our new step-mommy-to-be in the morning,” Ron called after her as she went back inside.

  Chapter Two

  Chris admired the spread laid out on the kitchen table. She didn’t know how Marsha felt about Italian food, but she didn’t really care. It looked delicious and smelled even better, and she couldn’t wait to dig in. She picked up a fork and reached for the baked ziti, the recipe courtesy of Derek’s aunt’s Sicilian mother-in-law, intending to shave a tiny sliver off one corner that nobody could possibly miss. Derek caught her and smacked her hand.

  “No!”

  “Oh, come on! A taste.”

  “You already had a taste when it came out of the oven.”

  “O ne more, then. It’s so good.”

  He grinned. “I’m glad you like my cooking, but you can wait until the guests get here. Why don’t you open the wine? It needs time to breathe.”

  “Fine.” Chris tossed the unused fork in the sink and retrieved a bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge. “Have I mentioned that you’re a lifesaver?” She nudged the refrigerator door closed with her hip and opened the drawer next to it to fish out the cork screw. “Where did you learn to cook, anyway?”

  “My mom, mostly. But I also did a couple of stints subbing for the morning show anchors and helped out on some cooking segments. You tend to pick up a few things.”

  “I’ll say. You saved me from having to serve takeout. My cooking skills are pretty much limited to picking up a phone.”

  “Oh, come on, that’s not true. I’ve seen you pour a mean bowl of cereal.” He winked and then jerked his chin toward the table. “Besides, you did a great job with the salad.”

  “Yeah, I guess chopping vegetables isn’t too far out
side my skill set.” She grimaced as she pushed down on the levers of the cork screw. The cork was being stubborn.

  “Want me to get that for you?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve got it.” She pushed harder. The cork started to give. At that moment, the doorbell rang. With an exasperated sigh, she handed the bottle and the cork screw over. “Here. Remember, I loosened it for you.” With a wink, she headed out of the kitchen.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she heard behind her, followed by a distinct “pop!” as the cork came loose.

  Chris hurried toward the front door but slowed her steps at the entryway. This wasn’t merely the first time her dad had been to her new place. It was also the first time she and Derek had entertained together as a couple. Between that and the mysterious announcement she was about to hear, she couldn’t help the nervous flutter in her gut. She paused to take a deep, calming breath before opening the door.

  It opened barely a crack when an admittedly impressive diamond was jammed in her face. “We’re getting married!” Marsha shrieked, shoving the door open the rest of the way and pulling Chris into a vice-like hug, all the while hopping up and down on her designer heels.

  Chris’s gaze found her dad as she patted Marsha’s back awkwardly and tried to muster up sounds of enthusiasm. Even through her shock, she couldn’t help but notice how happy he looked underneath his obvious embarrassment. “Gee, Marsha, don’t keep her in suspense.”

  Marsha released Chris and stood back, grinning as she fanned her face and blinked back tears before they could ruin her mascara. “I know we said we’d tell her together over dinner, but I couldn’t help it. I’m so excited!”

  The sound of footsteps approaching from behind helped bring Chris back to her senses. “Excited about what?” Derek asked. Chris opened her mouth to answer, but Marsha beat her to the punch with an encore performance. “Hey, that’s great!” Somehow, he sounded sincere as she threw her arms around his neck and squealed right in his ear. Patting her back with one hand, he reached the other toward Chris’s dad. “Congratulations, you two.”

  “Thanks.” Smiling, he shook Derek’s hand, then turned to Chris. “Do I get a hug?”

  Chris blew out a breath. “Of course.” She leaned into one of his patented bear hugs and squeezed him hard. “Congratulations, Daddy.” They released each other, and she stepped back. “Come on in.”

  The four of them moved into the foyer, where both Marsha and Drew studied the ornate staircase. “Oh, how beautiful,” Marsha gushed. “Sweetheart, wouldn’t this be a wonderful place for a wedding? Couldn’t you picture the bride coming down these stairs with her dress trailing behind?”

  “I don’t think—” Drew began, but she cut him off.

  “Oh, I don’t mean our wedding. We’ve got our venue all picked out. But for somebody, someday…” She looked meaningfully from Derek to Chris and gave Chris a big, showy wink.

  “I’m pretty sure that whenever Christine does get married, she won’t want to do it in the spot where her sister died,” Drew said, his voice tight.

  Everyone fell silent. Marsha’s hand flew to her chest. The horrified look on her face made Chris feel a little sorry for her. “Oh, Drew, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know—”

  Ignoring her, he turned to Chris. “This is it, isn’t it? Where it happened?”

  Chris nodded. She looked around, hoping Ron had decided to sneak down for a peek at Marsha and was there to witness their dad’s obvious grief. But she and Joe had apparently decided to remain tucked away in the attic for the evening. Chris sighed. “Yeah. This is it.”

  “Where did you find her?” The tremor in his voice was barely perceptible and would probably be missed by anyone who didn’t know him as well as Chris.

  “Over here.” She led him to where she’d discovered Ron’s twisted body.

  Drew stood there, contemplating the spot. Out of the corner of her eye, Chris saw Derek move close to Marsha and slip an arm around her shoulders. She gave him a grateful look and patted his hand before pulling away from him and coming to stand next to her newly minted fiancé. She took his hand and simply held it in silence, and Chris thought maybe, if she tilted her head and squinted, she could see a little of what her dad must see in the woman.

  After a protracted moment of silence, Drew tore his gaze away from the floor and smiled at Marsha. “I’m sorry.” He patted her hand. “I don’t mean to rain on your parade.”

  “It’s our parade, and I’ll march through rain all day long as long as you’re by my side.”

  Chris didn’t know whether to feel touched or slightly nauseated by Marsha’s pronouncement, but her dad seemed to be moved by it. He bent his head to kiss her forehead, then seemed to remember they weren’t alone. “We, uh, we brought some champagne.” He patted his pockets as if he might find it there. “I must have left it in the car.”

  “I’ll get it,” said Derek. “Is the car locked?”

  “The keys are in my purse,” said Marsha.

  “I’ll get them.” Chris went to retrieve Marsha’s purse and dig out the keys. As she handed them to Derek, she leaned in and said in a low voice, “Please tell me you got that wine open.”

  “There’s already a glass poured and waiting for you.” He pecked her on the lips before heading out the door.

  Chris watched him go until the door swung shut behind him. Then she took a deep breath and turned to her guests. “I hope you guys are hungry!”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go down there?” Joe twisted one of Ron’s blonde curls around his finger.

  “I’m sure.” She wiggled down into the couch cushions and wrapped her arms more tightly around him as if to declare that she was firmly anchored to that spot. “Believe me, there’s nothing going on down there that interests me.”

  “I gotta admit, I’m interested. Aren’t you even the least bit curious about this Marsha character?”

  “Not really,” Ron fibbed. The truth was that she was dying—figuratively speaking, of course, seeing as how that ship had sailed—to get a look at her father’s lady friend. But the thought of seeing her dad carry on as though he’d never even had an older daughter, let alone felt any grief over her tragic passing, simply hurt too much. “But by all means.” She extricated herself from Joe’s arms and sat up. “If you want to go down, don’t let me stop you.”

  “Now don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “All huffy and put out. I said I’m curious, is all. That don’t mean I’m about to leave you up here to stew.”

  “I’m not stewing.”

  A crease in Joe’s brow conveyed his skepticism as his gaze drifted down to her arms. Ron looked down to see that they were folded protectively in front of her. She hadn’t even realized she’d folded them. She forced them to her sides and adopted a relaxed posture. “I’m not stewing. I really don’t care that my dad’s down there.”

  “Now that’s a lie if I ever heard one.”

  Ron sighed. Joe knew her too well. “Fine. I care. But I don’t want to think about it. I’m too tired. Aren’t you tired? Today was a long day.”

  “You got that right.” He made a show of stretching, then reached an arm over to pull her back against him. “How many people did we help out today?”

  “Five. Two coaching jobs, and a whole lot of Googling for the other three. But you’re the one who did all the legwork.”

  “If you can call the way we get around legwork.”

  “Well, it’s still exhausting. Who knew Tulsa had so many dead people wandering around with unfinished business and having no idea what to do with themselves?”

  “Your sister knew.”

  Ron nodded, conceding the point. “Well, she can’t help all of them single-handedly.”

  “She’s hardly helped any of them since you took over. Does she know how much you’ve been doing for her?”

  She shrugged. “She knows enough. The whole point is for her to not have to think about it. She’s got enough on her p
late with her new boyfriend and his YouTube channel. Not to mention all the physical therapy she needed for her leg.”

  “Well, at least that’s done.” Joe shook his head. “I don’t understand this YouTube business, though. It ain’t like we show up on camera. What’s the point?”

  “Some apparitions do. And don’t forget about voice recordings. Anyway, it’s spooky and people like it. I was trying to convince Chris that we should start a YouTube channel before I joined the corporeally challenged.”

  “I guess I’ve seen enough horror in my time that I don’t understand why people go lookin’ for scares. All those kids who used to break into the house whenever nobody lived here… Thank Heaven Lilly and I managed to scare ‘em all off before Sarah got to ‘em.” He looked at her sideways. “Our scare tactics didn’t work so well with you, though.”

  “Yeah, well, when I get scared I tend to be more fight than flight.”

  “Don’t I know it.” He brushed her hair behind her ear. “Can’t exactly complain about the way things turned out, though.”

  Ron leaned back in and snuggled up against him. “Neither can I.” It wasn’t that she was happy about being dead. But if she hadn’t died, she wouldn’t have known Joe, and they had managed to cobble together a pretty good existence here in their limbo between life and whatever comes next. Between this and watching over Chris, she managed to stay busy enough that she hardly had time to miss out on life.

  She tilted her head to smile up at Joe. He returned her smile, his eyes crinkling in that way that made her feel warm all over. They held each other’s gaze for a long while before he brushed her forehead with his lips. “You’re right, though. I am a might tuckered out. I could use some shut-eye.”

  “You and me both.” She laid her head on his broad chest and closed her eyes.

  But sleep didn’t come.

  Despite all her bravado about not caring, she couldn’t shake the sense of awareness that her father was right downstairs, or an intense curiosity about his girlfriend. It was only sheer stubbornness that held her in place long after Joe had faded out of consciousness. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she slipped out of his arms and went downstairs.

 

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