Bound Spirits

by Jean Marie Bauhaus

  She could have simply popped herself down there with a thought, but she wasn’t sure exactly where they were and she didn’t want Chris to see her and know she’d caved. So she transported herself to the second floor and took the stairs the rest of the way down, creeping slowly and listening for voices as she went.

  Sounds of laughter drifted out of the living room. Ron approached cautiously, peeking around the corner to see where Chris was seated before materializing behind her, safely out of sight. While it seemed that other spirits could somehow remain invisible to her sister if they so chose, that was one trick for which Ron had never developed the knack.

  From her vantage point behind Chris’s chair, she stood facing her father, who was all smiles as he leaned forward to pick up a wine bottle and refill his glass. He also topped off the glass of the woman seated next to him on the love seat, who could be none other than the infamous Marsha. Ron couldn’t help noticing the big diamond prominently displayed on the hand that was propping up her chin as she gazed adoringly at their dad. She also couldn’t help immediately comparing the woman to her mother, which she knew wasn’t fair, but still. The differences were striking.

  Ron’s mother had been a natural beauty. Ron had inherited her curly blonde locks, which she had worn long, usually braided to keep them out of a face rarely touched by makeup. She simply hadn’t needed it. By contrast, Marsha was exactly as Chris had described—a brunette Barbie, dressed to the nines with perfectly winged eyeliner and a face expertly buffed and powdered to perfection. Actually, there was a name for the brunette Barbie, wasn’t there? Bridget or Midge or something like that. Ron should know. She had really been into Barbie dolls as a kid. That was how she’d inadvertently killed her mom, after all.

  “—your sister could be here for this,” the living Marsha doll said. Ron blinked. She had been so caught up in her own thoughts that she barely heard a word anyone was saying, but that got her attention. “I would have loved to have known her.”

  “I’m sure she would have loved you.” Drew reached over to squeeze her hand. Ron made an involuntary sound of disgust, which went unheard by all but Chris, who suddenly cocked her head and glanced behind her.

  “Will you guys excuse me?” she said, leaning forward to set her drink on the coffee table and standing up.

  “Everything okay?” asked Derek.

  “Yeah. I need to check on something.” She headed into the hallway before glancing back and making eye contact with Ron. A jerk of her head commanded Ron to follow.

  They were in the office with the door safely closed, but Chris still kept her voice low. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with this.”

  Ron shrugged and folded her arms. “So I got curious. Sue me.”

  “How long have you been there?”

  “I don’t know. Not long. A couple of minutes.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. So, Dad’s getting married, huh? Good for him.”

  “Yeah,” said Chris. She didn’t sound overjoyed.

  “Are you okay?”

  Chris shrugged. “That woman’s going to be my step-mother.” She flinched and corrected herself. “Our stepmother. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Pretty sure it doesn’t count when you’re dead.”

  “So what do you think of her?”

  “I don’t know. She’s really different from Mom, but other than the whole homecoming queen, sorority girl vibe she gives off, I haven’t really seen enough to form an opinion.”

  Chris nodded. She was silent a moment as she watched Ron, seeming to consider something. Finally, she asked, “Do you want to come back in there with me? I could tell them you’re here. You could meet her, sort of, and maybe talk to Dad.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Dad would love that. No thanks.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. But you should get back. My curiosity’s satisfied. I’m going to head back upstairs.”

  “Ron…” Chris looked like she wanted to press but wasn’t sure what to say. Before she could complete her thought, a thump out in the hall grabbed their attention. She turned to peer through the French doors “What was that?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the cat?”

  Chris opened the door and leaned out into the hall. “Here kitty,” she called, but there was no sign of Miss Persnikitty, nor of anything else that could have made the noise. She eyed Ron sharply. “You and Joe didn’t bring home any strays, did you?”

  “No,” she said, indignant. Then she considered and softened. “At least, I don’t think. You haven’t bought any antiques lately, have you?”

  Chris glanced at her once-haunted desk. “No.”

  “It’s probably nothing, but I’ll check it out. You should get back to your dinner.” When Chris hesitated, Ron shooed her away. “Go! I’ve got this!”

  Her reluctance evident, Chris gave in and went to rejoin the living. Ron watched her go. Then, hands on her hips, she looked around the room. “Hello? Who’s there?” When nobody responded, she added, “It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid. Come on out and let’s talk.” She moved to the back of the office, peering into each darkened corner, even looking under the desk. The creak of a door made her turn in time to see one of the French doors swing open.

  Suddenly, Ron had a vivid flashback to her first day in this house. A sense of dread filled her. She crept toward the double doors, hoping she wouldn’t find that a spirit had followed her home. Leaning out into the hall, she heard a low growl. She sighed and slumped with relief.

  Buster.

  “What are you doing down here, little guy?” she asked as she approached the pooch, the adorable ghost of a Jack Russell that had been left behind when his owner’s spirit was freed to move on. He stood peering into the living room, shoulders hunched, head low. As Ron got closer he grew emboldened enough to start barking. It looked like Marsha was the target of his ire, although he might have simply been put out by having strangers in the house.

  From her spot back on the couch, Chris looked over at them and raised an eyebrow at Ron. She waved a hand dismissively before bending to scoop the pup into her arms. “They say dogs are a good judge of people,” she muttered as she carried him back upstairs, growling and barking the entire way.

  Chapter Three

  Chris tried to turn her attention to whatever Marsha was saying as the sound of Buster’s barking receded up the stairs. She was probably dropping another hint about Chris and Derek getting married—something she’d been doing all night, in spite of Chris’s father’s attempts to rein her in. Every time she made some not-so-subtle allusion to their impending-only-in-her-deluded-mind nuptials, Chris glanced nervously at Derek. To his immense credit, he seemed to be bearing up under the assault better than Chris herself was managing.

  But as it turned out, Marsha was enthusiastically telling them about the venue they’d picked out for their own wedding—an old mansion that sat on an estate in one of the more affluent outskirts of town. Apparently, it belonged to Marsha’s grandmother, because of course someone like Marsha came from money.

  “It sounds beautiful,” Chris said once Marsha finished regaling them with descriptions of lush gardens and stately woods and even a picturesque pond, complete with a gazebo. The plan was to hold the wedding in the house, which boasted its own grand staircase, and have the reception outside, with a band set up on the gazebo for dancing.

  “Oh, it’s going to be so lovely,” Marsha agreed. “I can’t wait until it all comes together. Almost as excited as I am for us to move in. It’ll be the perfect place to raise a family.”

  Chris looked at her dad. “Huh?”

  “Right.” He set his drink down and leaned forward. “That was our other announcement. We’re moving back to Tulsa.”

  “Isn’t that great?” Marsha beamed. “We’re all going to be one, big, happy family!”

  Chris stared at the two of them. “That’s—” she started but faltered, at a complete loss for words.
“I mean. Wow.”

  “It is great.” Derek squeezed her hand reassuringly as he took over for her. “In fact, I think that deserves a toast.” He raised his glass. When Chris only gawped at him, too much in shock to fully understand what was happening, he picked her glass up from the table and put it in her hand. She closed her mouth and raised her drink obediently as he said, “To the happy couple. Here’s to love that lasts a lifetime.”

  Everyone took a drink. Chris had to resist the impulse to drain her glass. It was helped when Marsh piped up and said, “Something you two no doubt know all about,” causing Chris to choke on her wine.

  Derek took her glass from her and handed her a napkin, then pounded her on the back as she coughed violently into it. “Oh dear,” said Marsha, getting up. “I’ll get some water.” She returned a moment later and held a glass out to Chris, who gratefully took a sip and did her best to breathe slowly.

  Once her coughing fit finally subsided, her dad stood up. “On that note, we’d better head out. We have to head back to Dallas tomorrow and we need to get an early start.”

  “That’s right. Lots of loose ends to tie up before we can get settled up here and start planning the wedding!” Marsha grabbed Derek’s arm and continued to talk his ear off about wedding plans as he escorted her to the door.

  Chris hung back with her dad as he paused to contemplate the spot where Ron had fallen. “Dad,” she began. She wasn’t sure this was a good idea but forged ahead anyway. “When I got up to go check on something earlier? That ‘something’ was Ron. She’d come down to scope out Marsha.”

  He pursed his lips and breathed a heavy sigh but didn’t say anything.

  She pressed on. “Look, I know you’ve never been a big believer in that part of my life—that I have this ability to see and communicate with people who’ve passed on. But like it or not, she’s still here. You could talk to her, if you want to.”

  He stared at the floor a moment longer, then fixed his gaze on Chris. “Really? We’re doing this tonight?”

  “Dad, I—”

  He held up a hand to silence her. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to come here? Eating and carrying on like everything’s fine, like I’m not sitting feet from where my daughter—” He stopped as his voice cracked and cleared his throat. “Really, Christine. I don’t understand what possessed you to move in here.”

  “I told you. It’s because Ron’s here.”

  His jaw tightened. He seemed to struggle for control. When he spoke again, his voice was even. “Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you, but—”

  “But you don’t believe me.”

  He sighed. “I came tonight because Marsha insisted. She thought it would be good for me. She believes, for what it’s worth. She’s helped me to be a little more…” He paused, seeming to search for the right word before continuing, “Open. But I need more.”

  “More what?”

  “I don’t know, honey. Time, I guess. Evidence. But I’m not ready for this. Not now. Not tonight.”

  Chris nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat, upset mainly with herself for bringing it up. “Okay. I’m sorry I said anything.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” He took hold of her elbow and squeezed it. “There was something else I wanted to talk to you about, and I didn’t want it to go like this.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s Marsha.”

  Chris’s body stiffened slightly. She hoped it didn’t show. “What about her?”

  With a glance to make sure the fiancée in question wasn’t paying them any attention, he leaned in and lowered his voice. “Look, I know she’s not your first choice of women to marry your dad, but she’s called dibs on you to be her maid of honor.”

  Chris blinked at him. “What?”

  “I was planning to ask you to stand up with me. Be my best girl, or person, or whatever the PC term is when your daughter’s your best man. But Marsha’s really got her heart set on having you stand up with her and, well, the truth is she hasn’t got anybody else.”

  “How is that even possible? She’s got to have at least a dozen potential bridesmaids lined up.”

  He laughed, but there seemed to be a touch of sadness mixed with his amusement. “Yeah, I know, she comes off as that type. And she does have a lot of women acquaintances. But she doesn’t really have a lot of friends. Marsha has a hard time letting anyone get too close.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I know she seems like the outgoing, social type, but there’s more to Marsha than meets the eye. You might figure that out if you take time to really get to know her.” He looked over at Marsha, admiration for her plain on his face. Chris couldn’t help softening a little, even though she simply didn’t get it. “Anyway,” he said, turning back to her, “I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d accept when she asks you.”

  “But who will be your best man?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. She has plenty of male relatives. Maybe I’ll ask her brother, or that nephew of hers, the future lawyer. Help ingratiate myself with the family.” He glanced sideways at Derek. “Or I suppose I could ask my future son-in-law.”

  “Dad! We’re not—”

  He laughed. “I’m kidding. And don’t worry, I’ll talk to Marsha about that, get her to lay off.”

  “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” She glanced over at Derek, who looked intent on whatever it was Marsha was animatedly telling him. He was doing a lot of smiling and nodding. Chris had better go rescue him. “Okay then. I’ll do it. But I call power of veto on the bridesmaid dress.”

  Drew smiled. “That’s my girl.” He took hold of her arm and leaned in to kiss her on the head. “Goodnight, pumpkin.”

  Chris couldn’t help but smile. “Night, Daddy.”

  She walked him to the door, where he and Derek shook hands. Marsha seized the opportunity to assault Chris with another hug. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” she said, sounding step-motherly, or at least trying to, despite the fact that there was only a ten-year difference in their ages. She held Chris by both arms as she leaned back to better see her face. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun planning this wedding!” She giggled like a teenager and hopped up and down with excitement.

  “Yeah.” Chris kept her smile plastered on. “It’ll be great.”

  With a not-so-sly glance at Derek, Marsha leaned in and stage whispered, “And I’m sure we’ll also come up with loads of ideas for your own wedding. Never too early to start a Pinterest board, you know.”

  Chris shot her father a look. He stepped in, putting an arm around Marsha and pulling her close. “We’d better get going. I’m sure these kids are tired.” He yawned, and it was plain to see that he wasn’t putting it on. “I know I sure am.”

  “Okay, then.” Marsha beamed up at him, then looked back and gave Chris and Derek a little wave. “Goodnight, guys.”

  “Night!” they both said in unison, standing in the doorway and watching them go. Finally, Chris shut the door and turned to Derek, eyes and mouth wide open. “Can you believe that woman?”

  “What? She’s sweet.”

  “Yeah, if you like saccharin. Ugh.” She moved past him and headed back to the living room. “I can’t believe she’s going to be my step-mother.”

  “I think you could do worse in the step-mom department.” Following her into the room, he started gathering up empty wine bottles while Chris handled the glasses. “She seems to sincerely want a relationship with you.”

  “She sincerely wants us to get married, that much is clear.”

  She winced as soon as she said it and glanced at Derek. Rather than showing signs of panic, he merely shrugged. “It’s normal for newly engaged people to go into matchmaking mode. They want everyone to be as happy as they are. If you think she’s obnoxious now, wait until they’re newlyweds. Or better yet, wait till they have a baby.”

  “Whoa!” She spun to face him. “A baby? Why would you even say that?”

  “Why n
ot? You heard what she said about raising a family. She’s still young, and your dad’s not exactly a senior citizen.”

  “Ugh! Stop!” She set down the dishes and put her hands over her ears.

  “Oh, that’s mature.” Derek set down his own bundle and came over to her. “C’mere.” He gripped her waist and pulled her close. She leaned in and nestled her face against his neck. “I know it’s hard to see your dad moving on. And I know Marsha’s a bit…”

  “Annoying? Obnoxious? Overbearing? Totally fake?”

  “I was going to say much. But do you think maybe you’re being a little hard on her?”

  Without lifting her head, Chris shrugged. Derek chuckled lightly and rubbed her back in circles. “It’s going to be okay.”

  She sighed. “I know.” Her voice was muffled against his neck. She took a moment to close her eyes and breathe in his scent—the heady smell of man mingled with Ivory soap, mixed with his favorite cologne. It was both intoxicating and comforting. With a groan, she pulled away from him and regathered the dirty dishes.

  “I can’t believe they’re moving back here. I mean, I expected the engagement announcement, and I had almost talked myself into being okay with it. But that’s when I thought they were going to stay in Dallas. What am I going to do without that buffer? What if Marsha wants to hang out all the time?” She set the glasses down again and put her hands on her hips as she turned to face him. “Do you know what my dad asked me before they left?”

  “No, what?”

  “To be the maid of honor.”

  Derek looked confused. “I thought the bride usually picked out the maid of honor.”

  “Well, yeah. And apparently, she told him she wanted to pick me.” She folded her arms. “He was giving me a heads up and he asked me to say yes.” Chris shook her head, mystified at it all. “I don’t even know what a maid of honor is supposed to do. Do you?”

  “Well, believe it or not, I’ve never actually been a bridesmaid.” He grinned at the look she shot him. “But having worked several years at a news station that favored young reporters fresh out of journalism school, I got to witness a lot of weddings being planned. My general impression is that the maid of honor helps out with the bride’s side of things—picking out the dress, flowers, that sort of thing.”