Bound Spirits

by Jean Marie Bauhaus

  “That’s enough.” Derek put himself between Chris and Drew. “Come one, let’s get you home.” He steered her away from her father, putting a protective arm around her as he led her away. Where the waiting room met the corridor, she stopped and turned back. “Dad?” she called, her voice so choked she could barely get it out. He glanced at her, indicating he had heard her, but then turned his back to her.

  “Let’s go,” said Derek. Too stunned to resist, she let him lead her to the elevator.

  Ron sat at Chris’s desk, staring at the phone and willing it to ring. The sun had been up for hours and there had been no word from Chris. Ron had considered going out to find her, but it had been such an intense night, she feared she wouldn’t have the energy to make it back home. Joe had run out of steam and retreated to the attic to sleep shortly after sunrise. Ron had even tried calling Chris, but she only got her voice mail. She tried leaving a message, but she had no idea if her voice even registered on the recording.

  She heard the familiar sound of Derek’s Mustang pulling up out front and felt tension flow out of her, replaced with relief. She went to the front door, watching as he and Chris both got out of the car and made their way up the walk.

  Opening the door to greet them, she took in the stunned and broken look on her sister’s face. “What happened? Did you find Marsha? Is she—”

  “She’s in the hospital,” Chris said. “She almost drowned.”

  “What? How?”

  “The white lady.”

  Ron shuddered. She remembered all too vividly the hopelessness and despair she’d felt upon hearing the other spirit’s cries. “Thank God you’re okay.” Chris let out a scoffing noise and shook her head. Ron asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Dad—” she began, but her voice broke.

  Fear clenched an angry fist around Ron’s heart. “What about Dad? Is he—”

  “No, he’s fine. He—” Her face scrunched up. She covered it with her hands.

  “Chris? Tell me.”

  Before she could say more, Derek came in behind Chris. He put his hands on her shoulders and bent to kiss her cheek. “Why don’t you go get something to eat? There are some leftover muffins in the fridge.”

  “But I need to tell Ron—”

  “I’ll catch her up. Go on.”

  Chris looked imploringly at Ron. Taking in how weary her sister looked, she nodded. “Yeah, go. It’s fine.”

  Chris headed down the hall toward the kitchen. Derek went into the office and Ron followed. He went to the floating shelves along the back wall and took down a device that looked like a small radio. That was basically what it was, except it was modified to cycle through all of the available frequencies, snatching words from the airwaves that would serve as Ron’s voice as she spoke to him. He set the ghost box on the desk and switched it on.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Marsha’s fine. Physically, at least. She’s in the hospital. They’re holding her for a psych evaluation because of the apparent suicide attempt.”

  “And my dad?”

  “He’s staying with her.”

  “Then why is Chris so upset?”

  Derek looked disgusted as he leaned wearily against the desk. “Let’s just say they had words.”

  “What words?” She had a vague notion of what was said. “Wait, let me guess. He blames her for all of this.”

  He made an “on the nose” gesture, then shook his head. “The stuff he said to her… he was pretty harsh.”

  Ron swore. It didn’t register on the ghost box—probably because the word she used wasn’t allowed to be broadcast over radio frequencies. “I’ll go talk to her.”

  Without waiting for a response, she popped herself to the kitchen. Chris stood at the sink, hugging herself and staring out the window into the back yard.

  “Chrissy?”

  “Dad hates me.” Her voice sounded small and far away.

  “No, he doesn’t.” Ron was surprised at her own conviction. She knew firsthand that Drew Wilson was perfectly capable of hating his own daughter. But even so, she couldn’t believe that anyone could be capable of hating her baby sister. “He’s having a hard time with all of this. He almost lost the woman he loves for the second time in his life, and he needs someone to blame. It’s how he is.”

  Chris looked at Ron. She didn’t appear to be comforted. “He thinks I’m crazy. He thinks I caused this somehow.” Her face crumpled as a sob escaped her. “Oh, Ron, he thinks I’m delusional!”

  “Oh, honey!” Ron flew to her side, hating her own inability to wrap her sister in a hug. She settled for stroking her hair. “You always knew Dad’s powers of denial were unmatched. You can’t take this personally.”

  “How can I not?”

  “Because it’s not about you. Not really. You have to get that through your head.”

  Sniffing, she wiped her eyes, then grabbed a paper towel and blew her nose. “That never stopped you from taking it personally.”

  “Yeah, well. I guess it won’t stop you, either.”

  Chris shook her head. “How could he be so mean?”

  Ron almost said, “Welcome to the club,” but bit her tongue. Deep down, she’d always been a little jealous and resentful that Chris had clearly been his favorite, that she could do no wrong while Ron could never do anything right. But it gave her no satisfaction to see Chris bearing the brunt of his anger for a change. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair.”

  She found a clean corner of the paper towel and dabbed her eyes. “How did you stand it all those years?”

  Ron shrugged. “I focused on taking care of you.”

  At this, her eyes started to water again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more understanding. This feels awful.”

  “I know, sweetie. I’m sorry you have to feel it.”

  Derek popped his head in. “How you doin’?”

  Chris shrugged and wiped her eyes.

  “Okay if I come in?”

  She looked at Ron, who stopped petting her and stood back. “I should get upstairs. Will you be okay?”

  “As okay as I can be. Thanks, sis.”

  Upstairs, she found Joe stretched out on the sofa, sound asleep. Faded to barely visible, she could vaguely make out his outline, along with Buster’s curled up beside him. She knew she should sleep, too. But she was too angry. This might be typical behavior from their father, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. She’d put up with it herself for years. But she wouldn’t put up with it being done to Chris.

  It was easy to find him. All she had to do was close her eyes and focus. He sat in the hospital waiting room, slumped over with his head in his hands. Ron stood before him, looking down at him, wishing she could hit him, or at least yell at him. Looking around at the other people in the room, she wasn’t sure why she’d come, what she’d hoped to accomplish by it.

  He sat up and looked right at her, startling her. For a split second she thought he could see her, but then she realized he was staring through her, out at the hospital corridor. The look on his face made her feel for him in spite of herself. He looked worried and anguished, his face haggard, his eyes red and puffy. She hadn’t seen him look that way since the accident, when they had all sat together in another waiting room, awaiting news about her mother.

  “It’s no excuse.” She knew he couldn’t hear her but told him anyway. “I know it hurts. I know how much it hurt when Mom died. And maybe what happened to Mom was my fault but what happened to Marsha isn’t Chris’s. However much you’re hurting right now, however scared you are about losing Marsha, you should be more scared about losing your daughter. She still needs you. I needed you.”

  Her hands had curled into fists. She forced them open. She didn’t feel any better for having gotten that off her chest. She still wanted to smack some sense into him.

  Her anger gave her enough fuel to get back home. She watched Joe sleeping and thought about everything he’d done for his little girl. Finally, she woke the dog and
shooed him to the end of the sofa. Then she stretched out along the sofa’s edge, spooned against Joe’s faint form. Her anger gradually faded and turned to gratitude that she’d ended up with such a good man. But as she drifted off to sleep, she mourned the fact that they could never have kids of their own and show her father how it was done.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Did you eat?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Wow,” said Derek. “I think that’s a first.” He came to stand behind her at the kitchen sink, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Chris closed her eyes and leaned back against him. “I don’t know about you,” he said, nuzzling her neck, “but I’m exhausted.”

  She let out a weary sigh and nodded.

  “What do you say we go get some sleep? Maybe when you’re not so tired things won’t seem so bad.”

  Chris had her doubts about that. But she let him take her hand and lead her out of the kitchen and down the hall. She watched him as they went, appreciating the way he took over sometimes and took care of her.

  She gave so much of herself to taking care of others, both living and dead. It was nice to have someone take care of her for a change. It felt so good to simply be loved. Didn’t she deserve this? Hadn’t she earned the right to be happy? Derek made her happy, even when he drove her crazy. He loved her. She was so grateful for it, but she was also greedy. She wanted more.

  She stopped walking but didn’t let go of his hand. He stopped too when he felt the tug and looked back at her. “You okay?”

  “My room is trashed. Can I sleep with you?”

  “Yeah, of course.” He tilted his head to one side, seeming to study her. “If you’re sure.” He held up a hand as if making an oath. “And I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

  She reached out and pushed his hand down. “There’s no need for that,” she said, pressing up against him.

  He looked surprised and a little confused. “There’s not?”

  “I love you, Derek. And I know what I was waiting for. I needed to be sure. And I am. I’m so sure. About you. About us.”

  “Good. Because so am I.”

  “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

  Pressed up against him, she felt his heart racing. Or maybe that was hers. He took her face in his hands and kissed her, so tenderly. Then he rested his forehead against hers. His voice sounded rough when he spoke. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  “I want you, too,” she whispered.

  He kissed her again, passionately this time, and swept her off her feet. Somehow, he managed to carry her up the stairs and to the guest room, kissing her the whole way, without stumbling. They didn’t even stop while they fumbled with the door knob. Once inside, he kicked the door shut behind them and carried her over to the bed, where laid her down gently before climbing on top of her.

  Chris clung to him. His mouth explored her neck as his hands traced her curves. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on each sensation, letting the love she felt and the pleasure of his touch drown out any feelings of trepidation and the hurt she still felt. She wanted this. She needed this. She needed him.

  His mouth returned to hers. She moaned contentedly and arched her body against him. He kissed her, deep and hard, and then broke it off with a frustrated groan and sat up.

  She lay there, watching in confusion as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Derek?” she asked tentatively. Her voice shook. “What’s wrong?”

  “This isn’t right.”

  “What do you mean? I thought it was perfect.”

  “It was. You are. I mean…” He sighed and shifted to face her, wincing as he moved. “Chris, babe, you’re exhausted and hurt. I’d be a bigger jerk than your dad if I took advantage of you right now.”

  She raised up on her elbows. “You’re not taking advantage of me. This is my decision.”

  “Yeah, I know, but…” He closed his eyes, his face full of pain and frustration. He shook his head. “This isn’t how I want this to go.”

  “But—”

  “Baby, come on. We’ve waited so long. Do you really want our first time to happen because you’re angry at your father?”

  “That’s not why—”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he said. “But I need to be sure.” He looked up at the ceiling and gave a little shake of his head. “I never thought I’d say that, but there you have it.”

  “You need to be sure… about me?”

  Derek turned and leaned over her, looking into her eyes. “You are the one thing I am sure about. I need to be sure you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

  She started to assure him that she was, but he put a finger over her lips.

  “I want to be sure that when we do this, you won’t have any regrets.”

  His gaze searched her face as he pulled his finger away, but she remained silent. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that this was right, that now was exactly the right time. But deep down, she knew he was right. Part of her even felt a little relieved, and she loved him all the more for his perceptiveness and his willingness to put aside his desire for her protection.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you, too.” He kissed her again, sweetly this time, although she could still feel the undercurrent of his desire. Then he said, “Roll over.”

  She rolled onto her side. He stretched out behind her, spooning against her back. He tucked one arm under both their heads and wrapped the other around her middle. “How’s this?”

  “Perfect,” she said, nestling her head against his bicep and closing her eyes.

  She was back at the mansion, standing at the edge of the pond. The white lady stood on the other side, silently watching her. Chris opened her mouth. Instead of a despairing wail, the ding-dong chime of the doorbell issued forth. Chris awoke with a start.

  She had no idea how long they’d been sleeping. At some point, she’d rolled onto her back. Derek still lay beside her, one arm draped limply across her stomach. She wanted to lie there and savor being next to him, but the doorbell rang again. With a groan, she moved his arm gently.

  “Make them go away,” he mumbled as she got up. She went to the window overlooking the front yard, glancing at the clock as she went. It was well past noon, going on one o’clock. She looked down at the street and swore as she spotted her dad’s car parked out front.

  “Who is it?” Derek asked, his voice groggy.

  “It’s my dad.” She hurried over to the dresser and checked herself in the mirror, grateful that she and Derek had kept their clothes on after all. After smoothing out her hair, she hurried out of the room and down the stairs, her racing heart jolting her fully awake.

  What was her dad doing there? Had Marsha taken a turn for the worst? Had he actually come to apologize? With no shortage of trepidation, she reached the door and opened it.

  “They released Marsha,” he said, neither waiting for a greeting nor offering one. “She went to her parents’ house. She didn’t want me to come with her. She still says the wedding’s off.” He pushed past her without waiting for an invitation. Chris goggled at him, amazed at his audacity. She started to say something about it but took in his devastated appearance and kept it to herself. Sighing, she shut the door.

  Derek came down the stairs. “Everything okay?”

  “No,” Drew answered, even though he’d been addressing Chris. “Marsha won’t talk to me.” He looked up at Derek and seemed to take in his rumpled appearance. He looked at Chris, who was pretty rumpled herself, and gave them both a knowing look. She didn’t bother correcting whatever notion was going through his head. It was none of his business.

  “That’s rough,” said Derek, “and I’m sorry. But to be honest, I’m not sure your daughter’s in much of a mood to talk to you right now, either.”

  Drew looked at Derek, and his gaze hardened. He looked like he wanted to tell him off. Instead, he turned to Chris. She stood by the door, arms folded, her hair falli
ng in front of her face. She didn’t meet his gaze.

  He came over to her and her whole body tensed up. But then he brushed her hair back and took hold of her face, tilting her cheek toward the light. “The thing that hurt Marsha did this?”

  “It knocked her down when she tried to help Marsha,” said Derek.

  Drew’s mouth twisted in an angry knot. Who he was angry at, Chris didn’t know. But then he pulled her into a hug and planted a kiss on top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he said, and she began to relax as he held her. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

  Chris looked up at him. “Does that mean you believe me?”

  He sighed and released her. “I don’t know what to believe,” he said, rubbing his face wearily. “The police questioned me. She had bruises on her neck. Like someone had tried to strangle her.”

  “Oh, Dad. They thought you did that?”

  “She told them I didn’t, but since she couldn’t tell them who did, they thought she was protecting me.” He shook his head disbelievingly. “And then this morning, that thing at the pond…” His voice trailed off, like he had no words for what he’d experienced. He looked at Chris. “Is she going to be safe?”

  She wanted to reassure him, but she couldn’t honestly do so. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  He looked at Derek, then back at her. “What are we going to do?”

  “I’ll go talk to her,” said Chris. “I’ll try to get her back here.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Derek.

  “No. I need to go alone.”

  “It’s not safe.”

  “I’ll be fine. That thing has been pretty consistent about attacking in the middle of the night. We should be safe this time of day. Besides,” she added with a glance at her dad, “I have a feeling there’s something else going on with Marsha. She might not open up to me if you’re there.” She put a hand on his arm. “Stay with my dad. Please? He looks like he could use the company.”

  He regarded her a long moment but finally nodded. “Fine. Take my car. The keys are on the entry table.”