The Widow's Walk

by Carole Ann Moleti

  The floodgate opened. “Even though she’s more capable of handling the medical issues, I needed to be here for you. I should have made you go to the doctor. What would have happened if Kevin wasn’t there to pull you out of the water?” She started to cry.

  “You pulled me through last night.” If he shared the memory he had of Jared dying of the same disease, she’d never leave. And if he confessed how hard he’d battled Jared pulling him away from this life, would she understand, given her own self-destructive compulsions?

  “Good news.” The well-rested Allison charged in, too upbeat. “The doctor thinks you’ll be able to go home late tomorrow, as long as you have no more fever.”

  Liz stood. “Is the doctor still here? I would really like to talk to him.”

  “It’s a she. Doctor Shey. Come, I’ll show you where she is.”

  “I’m sure I can find her.” Liz pushed away her uneaten breakfast.

  “Right out by the nurses station. Stop off and see her on your way out. Take my car back to Brewster.” Allison slipped into the chair Liz had just vacated.

  Mike’s stomach lurched. “I think Mae or Kevin should come get you, Liz. Allison, she hasn’t been able to drive with her leg in the brace, and she’s not used to your car.”

  Liz’s neck muscles tightened. “I’ll be fine.”

  He, Mae, and Kevin had made an agreement not to leave her alone. “I don’t think this is the right time to experiment. “Please Liz. I don’t want to get myself all upset worrying about you.” It was a desperate, and underhanded move, but he had to separate the two of them. And be sure his wife got home safely.

  Liz snatched her overnight bag, the glare in her eyes strong enough to cause sunburn. “I’ll call Mae and, while waiting, find the doctor. You’ll let me know when it’s okay to come back, and if I can bring Eddie?”

  Allison tried to help. “Come back whenever you’re ready. With the baby. I’ll find a wheelchair and take Dad to the lounge.”

  “I’ll call when I’m on the way.” Liz strode out.

  Allison shrugged. “Did I do something wrong, Dad?”

  “She thinks you’re blaming her for me being sick.”

  “Dad, I’m just trying to help.”

  “I know, but she’s oversensitive right now. Her son has stirred up a legal tornado that is threatening to wipe her out financially. Then she got hurt. Then this. Her husbands died of lung problems, too.” Mike caught the slip too late.

  Allison looked at him sideways.

  “I mean her husband. Medicine makes me loopy. Gerry had lung cancer.” Time to get off this subject before it went any further afield.

  “Do you need money, Dad? I have plenty I could loan you.”

  This needed to end here. “No. We’ll be fine once the house is sold.” He didn’t get into the fight over which one they’d sell. “Liz is working as a substitute teacher, but don’t worry, I won’t be fishing anytime soon.”

  “Dad, really. Tell her I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “I know, sweetie. Let it go. Things are too emotional right now.” He jumped when the door opened, fearing Liz might have returned and overheard, but it was the aide carrying an armful of linens.

  “Let me get out of the way and go find Liz. And don’t worry, I’ll be careful what I say.”

  As the door closed behind his daughter, Mike wished he was strong enough to go with her–to be sure.

  Mike relaxed in the parlor reading the paper, doing the crosswords. The coming home hoopla finally died down. Dana and Allison were on their way back to New Hampshire. Eddie was asleep. Jared was behaving. So was Elisabeth.

  Liz carried in a glass of milk. “Time for your antibiotic.”

  “I’m sick of this already. My stomach cramps as soon as I take it.”

  “The doctor said it might do that.”

  “I know. I have to finish it or I could have a relapse.” He’d listened to Allison’s admonitions before she left. Now he had to hear it again.

  “Okay.” She turned to leave.

  He’d hurt her feelings again. “Liz, wait. I’m sorry. I want things to get back to normal.”

  “Were they normal before?” She settled onto the loveseat next to him.

  “We were doing all right before the ghosts got restless. I don’t think it’s a coincidence I got sick right after I touched Elisabeth. And Jared has been, well, a bit pushy.”

  Liz fidgeted in her seat. “Pushy?”

  “I have to work at keeping him quiet.”

  Liz chewed her lip. “I had no idea that was happening. You never said anything.”

  He laughed, though it wasn’t funny. “You can’t just have a conversation about possession with anyone.”

  “But you can have it with me. I suppose you’d prefer to sleep in the guest room to stay away from Elisabeth.”

  “Actually, I’d like to be sleeping in my old house, but it’s as depressing as a tomb. It needs your touch, to fix it up, make it look as pretty as this one. Then we’ll both enjoy being there.”

  She shook her head. “What you’re saying is reasonable, but I’ve put so much into this place, and there is so much history.”

  “Much of it bad. Face it, Liz. This place is haunted because very little good went down under this roof.”

  She stiffened. “How do you know that?”

  “Come on. Jared wondered for the rest of his life what drove Elisabeth to kill herself.” No use burdening her with the knowledge of how, and from what, Jared had died. She was already hovering over him like a police helicopter tailing a suspect.

  “It’s old, drafty. Something is always breaking. But it’s beautiful. This is my home, where I was meant to be.” She put her face in her hands.

  How could she not see? “Liz, this place is making us both sick, physically and emotionally. You’re hobbling around like a little old lady, and I’ve become a tottering old man.”

  Tears tracked down her face. “The warm weather is coming. The inn will be full–we have tons of reservations coming in. We’ll be making money. Mike, please. We’ll sleep in another bedroom. There are five of them after all.”

  No way was he leaving Eddie alone in there. “Look, for now, we’ll just stay where we are–together. If Liz and Mike are united, then Jared and Elisabeth aren’t going to be able to get in between us.” He brushed the tears off her cheeks.

  She stared at him intently, fear, maybe desperation in her eyes. “We can only talk to each other about this. Others might use any information against us.”

  “Who would do that, Liz?’

  Her demeanor hardened. She sat up, raised her chin. “My son. Your daughter. Sandra.”

  “You’re paranoid. The kids have no inkling about ghosts. All Sandra has are theories. She doesn’t know about your incident–or my illness. And I’m not going to tell her.” Guilt twanged in his gut. Sandra had come up with all the ghostly interpretations on her own, right?

  Liz jumped up. “She knows about my injury. Maybe not how it happened, but when Mae went in there to get my things, she figured out it was for me. She reads minds, or manipulates people into blabbing what they know.”

  Mike lowered his voice to a whisper. “It doesn’t take much for Mae to spill information. I think you’re giving Sandra too much credit.” Yet, she did ask him about the ghosts as soon as he sat down.

  “You can joke all you want, Mike, but this is serious. We can’t let anyone else in.”

  “I won’t say a word about anything ghostly to anyone. As long as things stay under control.”

  Liz studied him.

  Mike squirmed. “I think I’m going to take a nap.” He settled back on the sofa.

  She tucked the blanket around him and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll go help Mae with
dinner.”

  She didn’t believe him. He didn’t trust her. This was never going to work.

  Chapter 19

  Liz carried a tray of tea and fresh baked cookies into the bedroom.

  Mike sniffed the aroma of chocolate chips and brown sugar. “For me?”

  “Yes. For you.” She rested the tray on the floor, snuggled next to him, and slipped her hand beneath the collar of his robe to tickle his chest.

  He pulled away like she’d stuck him with a pin. “What about the cookies?”

  The joke did not amuse. “In a minute. I just wanted a kiss.”

  Mike obliged with a quick peck on the cheek, no eye contact. “They taste better when they’re warm.”

  Liz picked up the tray and settled it over his lap. “Why don’t you want me close to you?”

  “You’re still limping, and I feel like I could sleep for a month. It’s hard to think about anything else but getting better.” He munched on a cookie and looked away.

  “I feel great, and you’re back to normal.” Liz kissed him on the neck and brushed her lips across his cheek.

  Mike put his hand on her back, then turned his attention back to a book.

  Why was Mike acting like being near her was torture? For the week before and after he was hospitalized, she’d been a perfect wife and mother. No crazy compulsions. They’d put their financial plan into place, and had been talking things through. He’d been puttering, going out to retrieve wood, keeping the fireplaces going, eating and snacking. Happy.

  Both their ghosts were quiescent, Mae and Kevin calm, albeit hovering over both of them. She was the one about to go crazy since the substitute gig ended and they were all home together, all day, with everyone watching her, waiting for her, or Elisabeth, to mess up.

  Frustration bubbled inside, and she suppressed the urge to dump the cookies in his lap. “You aren’t being honest with me, Mike. I can’t fix the problem if I don’t know what it is.”

  He kept the plate and moved the tray to the floor. “Liz, I just have no desire, no urge to . . . I’ve never had problems with performance. It all started after I touched the ghost.” He looked away.

  “Things will be fine once you’ve recovered.”

  “I hope so. Hate to think that part of my life is over forever.” He looked more interested in the cookies.

  “Can’t we just cuddle? No pressure.”

  “Sure.” Mike didn’t move closer, didn’t make eye contact.

  Liz adjusted her pillow until she could sit with her arm and leg touching his.

  He grabbed the plate and offered it to her. “Last two.”

  “No thanks, I had plenty before.” Would he even be talking to her if it weren’t for the damn cookies?

  He emptied the plate and got up. “Where’s Eddie?

  “Mae is giving him a bath. It’s so hard for me to get up and down holding that little worm.”

  “Mae and Kevin are the best.” He went into the bathroom.

  “Yeah, but she won’t let me out of her sight. And Kevin insists on driving me to physical therapy, to the store, everywhere,” she called to him.

  Mike brushed, the toilet flushed. He retuned to the bed and sat on the edge next to her.

  “They’re just worried, that’s all. We’re all worried.” The tone of his voice, somewhere between a lecture and condescension confirmed her fears. “And you got the job of sleeping with me to be sure I don’t wander off at night. Otherwise, you’d be in the guest room.”

  He jumped up and bristled, further lending credence to her theory. “That is absolutely not true. You’re my wife, for God’s sake. Liz we’ve both been sick. How can you even think about sex?”

  “This isn’t about sex. When I was pregnant, when I had the flu last year–-we might have missed a few days here and there, but we could still talk to each other, cuddle, comfort each other. Those crystals have something to do with it. I felt much better after I took that pendant off. And the magnetic bracelet.”

  Sandra gave her an aphrodisiac stone after she’d given Mike something to suppress his libido: A good way to drive them apart. Drive him crazy. Drive him into her arms instead of his wife’s. “She enchanted those stones.”

  Mike laughed. “Oh come on. Liz. Do you really believe in witchcraft?”

  “I didn’t believe in ghosts until a couple of years ago. Why not witches? For all I know there are fairies in the woods and pixies down by Smith Pond waiting for us to wander by.”

  Mike burst into laughter. “I think you’ve been reading too much Harry Potter. But Sandra does paranormal investigations. I still think we should talk to her about our problem.”

  Worry stabbed her at just the mention of Sandra and ghosts in the same sentence. The whole sad affair Sandra had unearthed about their past had to remain secret. Liz had to keep that woman away from her husband. “You promised to not tell her anything about this house. Or about us.”

  “And I think that’s a mistake.” He slipped his hand into his pocket.

  That damn key fob must be there. He carries it everywhere. If he’s really impotent, maybe that’s the reason. Either that or he and she are . . . She shook her head to clear it. This wasn’t Elisabeth fabricating nonsense. This was the living, breathing Liz, the one whose husband was only sleeping in the same bed out of a sense of duty. Babysitting. Could he and Sandra be fooling around?

  “Look, I know she’s your friend but I want you to stop going to her shop. I want you to get rid of that key chain. Stop taking all the potions she mixed. Then we’ll see if I’m right.” Accusing him of infidelity was a wild conclusion, and she wasn’t ready to jump that high yet.

  “Maybe Sandra can help.” He took her by the shoulders.

  “Where is that key ring? I’ll put it with my jewelry.” She didn’t tell him the pendant and ankle bracelet was buried in the back yard under a tree, wrapped in black silk, just like the book advised was the best way to cleanse and discharge a crystal.

  “It’s downstairs with the keys to my truck. I’ll give it to you in the morning. I’m going to see if Eddie is ready for bed yet. The cookies were great, thanks.” He left the room with his hand in his pocket, probably figuring she couldn’t move as fast as he.

  Wrong. The physical therapy had been very effective. She got to the landing in time to see a flash of silver as he got to the last step, and heard the clunk as he dropped the key fob onto the desk in the hall. So, he carried it with him all the time and just lied to her about it.

  What was it that her friend Marti had said, just after she’d caught her husband cheating? I knew, Liz. It was the way he acted: cold, disinterested, no affection. Like my touch was poison. If it ever happens don’t let yourself be fooled, or to be made a fool of, like I did.

  Every move was being watched, monitored. Mae hadn’t left her alone with Eddie for a minute, claiming it was because of her bum leg. Her authority as a mother was gone, her privileges to come and go as she please restricted, her husband had given up but was too responsible to renege on his vows—yet.

  She was penniless with a bastard child, a liability to him. Her housekeepers were working for her out of some misguided sense of duty. She couldn’t pay them, and she no longer had any authority. The worst part was they were so nice and accommodating about it.

  Liz took the tray downstairs. She hated to even touch the key chain, but dropped it into a vase on her desk. Tomorrow she’d take it out and bury it with its mate, in full view of all three of them if they refused to let her out unaccompanied. She was in control of herself, and her ghost. No one was going to make her the village idiot.

  Touching the damn thing comforted him somehow, but giving it up was the only way to convince Liz that his physical issues had nothing to do with crystals, or witchcraft, or Sandra Kensington. Elisabeth’s ghost ha
d damaged him.

  She’d find it when she came downstairs and hopefully that would put the issue to rest. Then there would be another one. Liz was losing her battle with Elisabeth, becoming more paranoid and flighty every day. Snapping at and suspecting everyone of being out to get her, even Kevin who didn’t even know what the word devious meant.

  Maybe she’d always been like that and he’d never noticed it until adversity flushed out her demons. There were a lot of things he’d discovered about her that he never knew.