“I think I should be the one to tell her Sandra was here. This involves her and Elisabeth far more than you.” Asking her to believe in a past life would be stretching the rubber band way past the snapping point.
Now she took to waving a finger. “Don’t ask me to lie to save your marriage.”
Mike got in her face, voice raised. Despite Mae’s meddlesome personality they’d never been at each other like this. Then again, neither of them had backed themselves into a corner like animals with Mae defending her nest, Mike his territory.
He lowered his voice and moved away. “I’m asking you to help me protect Liz. I was hoping Sandra could help.”
“Well, I don’t trust that woman. She looked at me funny, like she was casting some sort of spell. She’s into all that, ya know.” Mae flipped her hand, her finger pointed in a bad imitation of a witch.
“Yeah, I know.” Mike jammed his hand into his pocket, still looking for the comfort of that crystal Liz had hidden. He fiddled with tissue lint instead.
Mae’s voice softened. “Michael Keeny, I know you love your wife.”
Tears came to her eyes. “Katherine defended Jared. She went against everyone and never backed down.” Her brogue was nearly gone, almost but not quite slipping into a soft British accent.
Did the clue he’d planted as to Sandra’s identity jog something loose, turn a page in Mae’s memory book?
This was his only chance to salvage the effort. “Neither of us wants anything to happen to Liz. And we have to work together on that. I promise to tell her as soon as she gets home that Sandra was here.”
Mae’s face had gone pale, her chest heaved. Mike wanted to hug her. Jared wanted him to hug Katherine, thank her for all she’d done for him and Elisabeth. But he’d done enough embracing of women who weren’t his wife today.
“I’m not makin’ any promises, Michael.” She lowered her head and fled, leaving him standing in the middle of a pile of laundry.
He picked it up, piece-by-piece, sorting things into neat piles. If only he could do the same with the scattered debris of his life.
Chapter 22
Anxiety crackled like static electricity as Liz stepped into the foyer. Her heels clacked on the floor.
Mae, far too quiet, came to meet her. “ Liz, I . . .”
“Now what?”
“I think Michael should explain.” Mae looked upstairs.
“Explain what?” Not even the baby cruising along the wainscoting into his mama’s arms quelled the queasies.
“Sandra was here. Mae saw us alone upstairs and assumed the worst.” Mike came down the stairs. “But it was only to help figure out how to deal with the ghosts.”
Liz’s blood boiled. Not only had Mike gone against her wishes, he’d been holed up with that woman in the house.
“There was nothing more to it, really.” Mike’s usual matter of fact manner belied no guilt, no remorse.
Eddie squirmed to get down.
Mae took him. “The two of ya need to talk. This is not really my business, and I’m sorry I know anythin’ about it.”
She carried the baby into the kitchen. His wails of “Maaaa” and “Daaaa” grated on Liz’s last frayed nerve.
“How could you?”
“Let’s discuss this in private.” He nearly dragged her upstairs and closed the bedroom door, wasting no time in getting to the matter at hand. “ Liz, she had a lot of great insights. Mae saw us together and thought the worst.”
Marti had warned her to never cry; never give him the pleasure of knowing how he’d hurt and betrayed you, never feel remorse for making his life as miserable as he was making yours. “Oh?”
“Sandra understood everything, even told me a few things about how ghosts are trapped in parallel dimensions. She insisted Jared had been here.”
Now it was her turn for shockers. “He has.” She remained deadpan.
Very effective.
Mike grimaced. His voice shook. “When?”
“Didn’t your witchy woman tell you?” Liz never knew she had such venom inside her.
“Liz, please . . .” He reached out, but she turned away.
“You promised not to go near her.” Liz walked to Elisabeth’s favourite spot near the window and stared at the bay.
“I never promised that.” Mike stood behind her but didn’t dare touch.
Bethea was my best friend. Of course she lashed out when I died, assuming the worst of Jared. Just as you are doing now.
Liz had no trouble subduing Elisabeth this time. “You know how I feel about Sandra’s meddling.”
“And you know how I feel about the havoc around here. I’m desperate to try and fix this.” Mike raised his arms, fists clenched.
She whirled to face him. “And I’m not?”
He grabbed her arms. “Sandra had some good insights and feels very different than you about it. She wants to help.”
“You’re having a fling with her.” She wiggled out of his grip.
“Mae put that idea in your head.”
“It was in there before Mae said anything. Why else would you have absolutely no interest in me?”
“I don’t know what to do to convince you, but I was only going to her because I want to get back to where we were.”
She couldn’t look at him. The liar. “Did you ever think that Gerry and Mary are content, wherever they are, because we had real marriages, no regrets? It’s the way Jared and Elisabeth’s relationship ended the first time that’s haunting them, and why they won’t leave us in peace.
“So what do you propose we do?”
Liz had dreaded confronting him but, at this moment, it was a relief to acknowledge what was going on. “These haunting are about missed opportunities, regrets. Not ghost busters, potions, spells, or exorcisms. I just indulge Elisabeth and hope she is moving toward closure.”
“No, that’s dangerous. I’ve never been the same since I touched that ghost. Look what happened when you embraced your inner self.” Mike tapped the knee brace.
“Well, that’s what I intend to do.” There was no point in fighting this anymore. Sandra had plenty of material for her next book. And her claws in Mike.
They faced off, she in front of her window, he in the doorway.
“Please, Liz! Let’s go stay in my house for awhile.” Mike extended his arms like a priest about to give a blessing.
“No! Get out. Do what you want with whomever. You wanted an excuse to leave me–now you have one.”
“You . . . you can’t be serious.” He grabbed his stomach.
Liz could almost feel bad for him. “You betrayed me, my trust, our secrets.”
“What about your secrets? You never told me about Jared’s appearances.” She paced to release some of the anxiety and turned her back to him. “I’m not telling you another word. Why? So you can blab it to your mistress and ruin my business and reputation?”
“Well then I guess things are worse than I thought. I believed we knew everything there was to about each other. I’ve tried to be honest with you. I only wish you’d done the same.” Mike came up behind her and tried to get eye contact.
She couldn’t look at him. Guilt pricked Liz more deeply than the anger. She’d become an even more depraved liar than Mike could ever be–not even thinking twice about stretching the truth. What if they all left her alone? What would she do? How would she manage? She wanted to reach out, take him into her arms, comfort him. But she couldn’t trust him if he was somehow under Sandra’s influence.
Mike took her silence as the end of the conversation. “All right. I’ll go.”
No fanfare, no begging, no pleading. If he didn’t feel strongly enough to argue, then he was as guilty as she.
Mike tossed some clothes and shoes
into a plastic laundry basket and lugged it downstairs.
Mike paused at the front door. He really shouldn’t leave without saying goodbye, but couldn’t abide the thought of walking away from Eddie, of Mae fussing, of the look of supreme disappointment on Kevin’s face. And worst of all, seeing Liz, hell bent on punishing him, acting like she could care less.
He forced himself to breathe, to think, but there was no other way now. Whatever he and Liz had was gone. If they’d even had it. Green, the damn dress was green. Liz had worn green at their wedding. It seemed odd, but at the time of little import. The ghost had engineered that, trying to recapture her time with Edward anyway she could.
Inviting Sandra over had been taking a big risk. Sadly, there hadn’t been any payoff. Only more secrets stacked like flimsy playing cards, ready to fly away in a capricious breeze, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.
Empty, beaten down, tired, sick to his stomach, Mike took his coat out of the closet and left, lugging the plastic basket through the pine grove to his deserted house
What have I done? I’m not Marti, and Mike isn’t that miserable, abusive creep she divorced. Mike was suffering as much, maybe more than she was, and she’d banished him to a dusty, lonesome house. Worse, now she’d be alone with the ghosts playing havoc, with no one who understood. A tingle of electricity ran up her spine–they were already gathering.
Liz hurried after Mike, but heard the front door close behind him a little too hard. She pushed through the kitchen door. Three faces: Eddie, Mae and Kevin’s, turned expectantly.
“Mike’s gone.” Liz’s words thudded like an ax on wood.
“He’s gone?” Kevin squeaked it out.
“Yes. Maybe some time apart will help.” She didn’t believe that, and the emotion sat on her chest like a brick.
Mae walked over and stroked her arm. “Husbands and wives need to be together, in good times and bad. Else they grow apart, and the problems multiply like weeds in a cracked sidewalk.”
Liz pulled away. “Who was the one who brought another woman into this house?” How could they blame her for this?
“He was lookin’ for help, Liz. Desperate to keep ya from hurtin’ yourself again. I’d better go see if he needs anythin’.” Kevin strode out of the kitchen.
“Kevin knew Sandra was comin’,” Mae admitted. “Thought there was nothin’ wrong with it.”
Liz stared Mae down. “Do you really believe this was just a ghostbuster visit?”
“I don’t trust that woman even when she’s in plain sight, never mind alone with a man in a bedroom with the door closed. But I do trust that Michael Keeny is an honorable man who’d never do anythin’ to hurt you or Eddie.” Mae’s glare would have lit a candle.
Liz ignited her own flare. “So, I should just ignore the fact he went against my wishes and got her involved. Can you imagine if Jay found out about ghosts and hauntings? Things are bad enough already.”
Mae’s voice crackled with emotion. “Whose idea was it for him to leave?”
“Both of ours.” Liz couldn’t remember for sure, but lying was so easy now. Eventually, they’d catch up with her. Maybe they already had. “I’m taking Eddie up for a bath and bed.”
The baby smashed peas on the high chair tray. But he was quiet, like he understood exactly what was going on. His lower lip quivered when Liz snatched him out of the seat.
She didn’t give him a chance to start yowling and kicked the swinging door open with her foot. It see-sawed open and closed with a hee-haw sound that seemed to ridicule her. Liz ignored it, along with Mae’s sobs. The front door slammed before she was halfway up, leaving her alone with the son of a ghost, her son, in their haunted house. Fear ran through her like cold water.
Eddie’s head swiveled around as they went up, no doubt looking for Mike. He was accustomed to his daddy bathing him every night.
Hauling the baby in and out of the deep tub was still hard with the lingering pain and swelling in her knee and ankle. She hadn’t kept up with the physical therapy exercises, and her leg throbbed as hard as her head.
“We’ll have a bath together, champ.” She put Eddie on the bathroom rug and reached to turn on the taps. He flopped over, pulled himself up and started cruising around the bathroom. Liz nearly slipped on the damp tile trying to get to him before he pulled everything off the vanity. God, now that he was moving things were getting even harder. “Where are you going?”
Even the baby’s grin failed to raise her spirits. She undressed him, then herself and climbed into the tub. Eddie sat between her legs, splashing, while she tried to soak the misery out of her body, and the persistent chill out of her bones. Not even the warm water, scented soap, or massage of the loofah relaxed her tonight. Liz hauled herself up while holding the squirming tyke. She laid Eddie on the bath mat and, shivering and naked, wrapped him in the towel and dripped dry while combing his hair and getting him into pajamas.
Eddie fussed, still looking around for his “da.” Liz rocked him in the glider in front of the bay window. The mechanism squeaking was the only sound in the eerie quiet. The baby nestled against her, pulling the front of her bathrobe open. There was hardly any milk left, but he fell asleep comforting himself the only way he could: remembering happier times for them all.
No moonlight illuminated the sky, and only a few pinpricks of stars penetrated the patchy clouds. The water was an expanse of black velvet, still, endless. There was no sign of life, no flicker of movement, no whisper of wind.
Mike fumbled with the lock. The door creaked open. No enticing aromas of a home cooked meal, no clutter, no pictures or knickknacks. No signs of a life long over, forgotten. Only a center hall leading to a promising new start for a new family, its emptiness yet another reminder of his own pain, loss, goodbyes said too soon, a life ended prematurely. He flipped on the light.
Not sure where or to whom his allegiance lay at that moment, Mike plunked the basket on the floor, trying to decide where to go first. Heat to be turned up, a bed to be made, cabinets and a freezer rummaged through to rustle up canned or preserved something to eat for the dinner he didn’t want anyway.
His footsteps echoed in the halls. The basement door groaned, and he brushed away cobwebs on the way down. Musty air, with a faint tinge of mold pricked his nostrils. Couldn’t get rid of that in any house so near the bay. He flipped on the dehumidifier before adding water to the boiler. It ignited and rumbled to life, the pipes jangled almost immediately as the steam rose. By the time he got to the kitchen, the leaky valve he’d never gotten around to fixing was hissing like a rattlesnake.
Three instant oatmeal packets were all he could find. Everything else required an ingredient he didn’t have: milk, eggs, bread–and he wasn’t going out now. He dumped a dead spider out of a bowl, rinsed it and ripped open the cereal packs. Some maple syrup in the back of the fridge for sweetness, a cup of tea. More than enough to fill his belly though the churning wasn’t from hunger.
The bottle of Jack Daniels in the kitchen cupboard peeked over a box of baby cereal. Mike grabbed it, and a water glass, and walked past the living room, recalling for a brief moment the first night he and Liz had ever spent together beginning right there on the sofa, and how he’d led her up these stairs. The bedroom was cluttered with a porta crib and Eddie’s toys, leftovers from the week they’d spent here when the inn was overbooked and they both needed a break.
Liz’s cast off makeup, perfume, and powder sat on the vanity. He resisted the urge to toss everything into the crib and pitch it into the trash. The three of them should be here, where there were no ghosts, where there was no danger.
Mae and Kevin didn’t even know he was gone. What if they didn’t find out and left Liz there alone with Eddie? Would she do something crazy, dangerous? Pretty likely.
“Damn, no phone. I have to go and ask Mae and Kevin to
keep an eye on her.” Mike poured the whiskey, sipped, then downed the rest. His throat burned, his head spun. He poured another glass.
You can’t leave her alone. Jared agitated. Get her. Bring her here.
“Bug off. I need a break.” Another slug.
You’ll regret it for the rest of your life, believe me.
“Shut up!” He drained the bottle and threw it onto the bed.
The Widow's Walk Page 17
