by Bryn Donovan
“Yeah, and I guess with the angle of the wound and everything, they said they could tell you had done it. They would have found out if I’d said anything else.”
He drifted away again then woke up for a third time to daylight.
“There’s a lot of stuff in here,” he said to Andi, who seemed to be permanently encamped next to his bed.
“Yeah. The lilies are from Gloria.”
David looked over at them. “Aren’t lilies for when you die?”
“When I called her, that still seemed like a distinct possibility.”
“Oh. I bet she’s upset about that commission.”
“Not especially. She was worried about you. The big plant’s from my mom and dad.”
“Really? They hardly even know me.”
“They’re really worried about you! My mom wanted to get flowers, but my dad said a plant was better since you’re a guy.”
A bad thought occurred to David. “They think I tried to kill myself? They’ll tell you to break up with me.”
“I didn’t tell anyone else that!” She glanced at the door again. “Look, with Gloria and my family, I just said you got hurt in the fire. I told them you didn’t want visitors. Okay?”
Relief washed over him. “Andi, that was perfect.”
“And there’s a card from Mr. Willingham. He’s been here a couple of times, but you weren’t awake. I told him what really happened.”
“He must have freaked.”
“Mostly he just hopes you’re okay.”
A lot of people had been worried about him. He’d always thought of himself as such a loner, so he found it surprising and gratifying.
The door to the room opened, and he saw someone else who looked worried: Morty Silva, with a Styrofoam cup of coffee. “Look who’s awake,” he said.
“Hey,” David said to him. “So, that demon showed up, after all.” He tried for a flippant tone.
“Yeah, so I hear.” Morty didn’t smile. “I swear I didn’t know it was going to go that way. I would’ve done it with you if I’d known.”
The man’s obvious guilt made David uncomfortable. “I know. It’s over now.” He looked to Andi. “Is it all over? Is the house—”
“Yes!” she said. “Didn’t I tell you? I thought you saw it go up. It’s torched. Look.” She dug in her purse and pulled out a newspaper.
The color picture of the burning house showed one wall still standing, the framework visible, like a skeleton, engulfed in flames so spectacular they looked like the fires of hell itself.
“It all caved in,” Andi told him. “The story says it’s just a pile of charred rubble and ash.”
David stared at it, taking it in. The menace that had threatened to consume him, all his life, had been utterly and completely consumed.
He thought he had never seen a more beautiful picture. He wanted to frame it.
“It’s the best job I ever did,” Andi declared. “So much for home improvement.”
“Burning down that house was such an improvement,” David said with feeling. “What does it say about the fire?”
David enjoyed the supreme satisfaction in Andi’s voice as she read, “Investigators believe the fire may have started when sparks from a faulty power tool ignited varnish vapors in the house.”
“You did a hell of a thing, David,” Morty said. Had the psychic ever actually called him ‘David’ before? “Andi would be dead if you hadn’t cast him out like that. I’m sure of it.”
“I told you,” David said. “I’d never let anything hurt her.”
Andi took hold of his hand and her eyes misted.
“Hey, come on,” he said. “Everything’s all right now.”
“I’ll come back later,” Morty said simply and exited the room.
Andi sniffled. “David, I love you so much. I’m just so glad you’re going to be okay.”
Her nerves were shot. After the last couple of days, it was no wonder. He hated that she’d gone through all that.
She went on, “I mean, no matter what happens with us, I just…always want you to be okay and want you to be happy…”
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “You can’t go anywhere on me, Andi.” He wearily lifted her hand in his and pressed it against the side of his face, appreciating the warmth of her fingers. “You’re going to marry me, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“You kind of have to now. I mean, after I stabbed myself and everything.”
She let out a half-laugh that was close to a sob, pressing a hand over her mouth.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. “I’m kidding. You don’t have to—”
“Yes!” Andi’s blue eyes glinted with pure joy. She leaned over to hug him, avoiding the IV and pressing her flushed, damp cheek next to his. Next to his ear she whispered, “Of course I will.”
Epilogue
David stood on the porch of the neat white Queen Anne Victorian with Gloria.
“I still can’t even believe you’re looking at this place,” she said. “This is so not your style.”
“Eh, I’m kind of sick of my style.” He shrugged. “And what can I say? Andi likes old houses.”
“Is that why she’s been in there so long?”
“She’s just feeling it out,” he told her.
Andi emerged out onto the porch, smiling.
David asked, “What do you think?”
“Clear as a bell,” she told him. David trusted her abilities by now. If she said a place was ghost-free, that was good enough for him. “In fact, it’s better than clear,” she went on to say. “It’s got…good echoes. People were happy here.”
Gloria’s mouth twisted. He knew the real estate agent, who found the whole idea of ghosts ridiculous and even slightly offensive, thought Andi was something of a flake. He also knew that, over the course of the last couple of months of house-hunting, Gloria had come to like Andi quite a bit anyway.
“I don’t know much about the house’s history,” the agent said diplomatically. “The family who’s selling raised three daughters here. They seem like lovely people.” She tilted her head. “I think you can get them to go down even more on the price. It’s going to need a lot of fixing up.”
Andi grinned back at the house. “I know. It’s perfect.”
A cell phone interrupted them. Andi looked down at the number and said, “Sorry, it’s a client.” She walked a few paces away from them, saying, “This is Andi Petrowski,” in a crisp, confident voice.
Gloria peered after her. “Huh. So, she’s still contracting?”
“Oh, yeah,” David said. “She loves it.”
There was no reason to tell Gloria the business’s name had been changed from Handy Andi to Petrowski Paranormal Services. Her new ads in suburban weekly papers had gotten a huge response. Apparently supernatural happenings plagued the suburbs, which somehow didn’t surprise David at all.
Morty advised her and occasionally helped her out, and she was proving to be a very quick study. Relieved to know another competent psychic in town, he passed some jobs in the city on to her instead of feeling obligated to deal with all of them himself. With some success, he was trying to stay sober, and his new full-time job at a metaphysical store seemed better suited to that goal.
When Andi rejoined them, David asked her, “So should we make an offer?”
“Let’s do it.”
“I’ll go get the paperwork,” Gloria said, and headed back to her car.
“It’d be so nice to move in here right after the wedding,” Andi said. “God, can you believe it’s only a few weeks away?”
“I know,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “It’s going to be official.”
For most of his life, all of this had been out of the question for him. Love. A marriage. Buying an old house, on purpose.
They had burned all the old dread away.
Andi felt so good in his arms. He felt like taking her back to their condo right then and showing her how
much he loved her. But he supposed he could wait until after they signed the papers and had lunch. There was going to be plenty of time for that kind of thing. A lifetime, in fact.
“You’re going to be all mine,” he said.
She looked up into his eyes. “That’s been true for a while now.”
He knew it. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her—and nothing she wouldn’t do for him. She had complete possession of his heart.
* * * * *
About the Author
Bryn Donovan is a creative professional, a quilter, and a published poet and essayist with an M.F.A. in creative writing. Her previous romance novel was published by The Wild Rose Press. She lives in Kansas with her very romantic husband and their very goofy dogs.
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ISBN: 978-14268-9450-3
Copyright © 2012 by Stacey Donovan
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