Mae held Liz’s hand–the bond between them transcended not only time, but also words. Dusk had overtaken the sky by the time they arrived home, bathing the house in eerie shadows. Purple and orange clouds dangled like skeletal fingers. Liz’s scalp prickled. Would the ghosts re-emerge tonight?
Mike said no goodbyes. He dragged a suitcase through the pine grove toward his house. Kevin and Mae traded tight-lipped glances and helped get the luggage and Eddie’s things inside.
Liz hauled her things upstairs to the bedroom and dumped the lot onto her bed. Mae had cleaned and tidied after she’d grabbed Eddie and run off. No toys, no clutter, no evidence of life. Elisabeth, too, was absent. Had her hunger, the unease, vanished into Edward’s embrace?
Mae shuffled in and gathered dirty clothes into a hamper. “I was hopin’ being cuddled together so close on the plane you’d worked things out, but it seems Mike isn’t comin’ home.”
“He can’t face it.” How could she blame him for not trusting Elisabeth’s despair had finally been assuaged, and that Liz had been freed from bondage? “I’m going to sell this house and go live in his. It’s the only way to save my marriage.”
Liz waited for the pained look on Mae’s face but instead saw only resignation.
“Has he agreed to that?” The gravel in her voice belied the sadness.
“No, he delivered the ultimatum. I need to deliver my answer.” No rational person could justify choosing a house over a human. But Elisabeth wasn’t rational, nor was she human.
“Then ya best be gettin’ right over there, Lizzy. Poor man’s been sufferin’ for months waitin’, hopin’, prayin’.” Mae crossed her arms over her chest.
“Tomorrow, after we both get some sleep. I’ll . . .”
“Go now. Kevin and me will look after Eddie. Don’t come home, don’t call, don’t worry about anythin’ until the two of you patch things up.”
“But we’ve just gotten home after a transatlantic flight and . . .”
Mae’s frustration vented. “I’m tired of your excuses, Liz. Kevin’s fresh as a daisy, and Eddie is an angel.”
“And I’m the devil incarnate.” Liz’s snipe was unjustified, and she knew it before the words were out.
“No, you’re not.” Mae hugged her. “Just a confused angel who needs to decide whether she wants to live in the past or the present. Now fly over to Mike’s house and make him remember why he fell in love with you.”
Liz wiped tears away with the back of her hand. “If he’ll let me in.”
Mae handed her a tissue. “He will.”
They walked downstairs together. Kevin sat on the floor in the parlor while Eddie tottered around throwing magazines and ripping out the pages. He looked up when he saw his mother, and Mae and pointed to the picture of a container of orange juice.
“Juze,” he announced with pride.
“Yes, slugger.” Liz scooped him up and blew a raspberry on his belly, eliciting squeals of delight.
Eddie squirmed until she put him down and headed for a pile of Better Homes and Gardens.
“Liz is goin’ to Mike’s.” Mae picked up the baby. “Say night, night to mama.”
“Ni-ni.” He twisted again.
Mae plopped him next to Kevin.
“Tell Mike I’ll see him in the mornin’. In the meantime, we’ll give Eddie more lessons and a bath. God, I missed this tyke.” Kevin stretched out over the rug and Eddie jumped on top of him. “Ya got me, ahhh, gush.”
The baby squealed. Liz’s heart ached. How would she be able to live without the two of them?
Mae put her hands on her hips. “The hell ya will. The two of them aren’t comin’ out of that house until they make up. And ya aren’t goin’ near Mike to distract him.”
Kevin rose to meet his eyebrows. “Who are ya to be orderin’ Liz around like that?”
Mae’s stare in return was all the answer either of them needed.
Liz grabbed her coat and headed across the dead, tangled grass, through the pine grove.
Only a dim yellow glow poked through the kitchen window. He was probably already asleep. By London time it was already midnight, and they’d been up since 6 a.m.
Even though she had her key she’d not dare unlock the door and walk into his space, his refuge. Liz knocked loud enough to arouse him. Mike’s shadow darkened the sidelights before the foyer light blinked on. His puzzled, frazzled face peered through at her. Locks clicked. The door opened.
“What’s wrong?” Mike closed it hard behind her. The chill in the long vacant house matched the icy expression of its owner.
Liz hadn’t expected a warm reception. “I came to work this out.”
“Where’s Eddie?”
“With Mae and Kevin. They’ve agreed to watch him for as long as it takes us to resolve things.” She took off her coat and hung it over the banister, then draped her scarf on top.
He watched her with a look somewhere in between aggravation and contempt. “If you intended to come live here, you should have brought our son and your things.”
Her face burned like he’d slapped her. She’d have preferred that. “You’re tired, and so am I. Call me when you’re ready.” She pushed past him and out the door, leaving the coat behind.
Mike ran after her, barefoot. He caught her arm before she got to the last step. “I’m sorry. You came over in good faith. It’s not fair to treat you like that.” He led her back inside, but released his grasp and moved away. “I’m looking forward to going to bed early. Just had a hot bath and was going to make an omelet. You can’t have had time to eat dinner.”
Liz swallowed the angry retort. He had to get this out to get over it.
“No, I haven’t eaten anything since the flight.” She followed him into the dated, dusty kitchen.
An old hatbox fixture, filled with dead flies, sputtered to life, diffusing harsh white light over the chipped porcelain sink, smudged cabinetry, and scratched chrome and Formica dinette. Wall sconces would be more pleasing to the eye, and there would be more natural light if those damned shutters were gone. Still, they’d need some kind of ceiling fixture, maybe a dimmer on an antique Tiffany lamp. Everything else had to go.
But they had no money for even a cursory makeover, let alone a major renovation, especially after the fare for three round trip transatlantic flights and a London vacation in midwinter. God, what a mess she’d made of things, following her heart, following her ghost.
Mike whisked eggs far too long. Chopped onions far too tiny. The pan sizzled as he poured the mixture in, added a dash of milk, some frozen spinach, cheddar cheese, and whisked again.
He was a good cook, preferring simple hearty food as a fisherman would. And wickedly handsome, even in a worn plaid bathrobe and bare feet. Liz knew how trim and tight his body was underneath. How strong his arms were, yet how gentle he was. It had been so long . . .
“I think there’s some bread in the freezer.” He rummaged. “Damn, if I’d known I’d have picked it up with the eggs and milk. Oh, here it is. I stuck it in here so it would keep while I was away.” He turned to her. “Toast?”
“Sure, one slice.” She answered.
“I had no idea how long I’d be gone. No idea where you were. No idea if you and Eddie were alive.” He slammed the door of the toaster oven shut and went back to the omelet.
At least he was talking. “I hurt you.”
“Scared the shit out of me.” He used a rubber spatula to flip one edge of the omelet over on the other, then turned toward her holding the cast iron pan, a look of fury on his face.
Liz flinched. Was this Mike or Jared?
Mike sighed and shook his head. “It’s going to take a while for me to get over this.”
“We’ll work things out.” She didn’t believe it, and doubted he
did either.
Mike slid the omelet onto a plate and cut it in two pieces. He arranged the toast around it. Liz found some jelly and butter and joined him at the table.
“It’s delicious.” She was hungrier than she thought.
“Have to do a big shopping.”
There was no connection, no trust, no intimacy left between them. Liz had ripped it all to shreds, and now she had to try and piece it back together. “I’ve made up my mind to put the inn on the market. I’ll move my things little by little. I don’t know what will happen to Kevin and Mae, maybe they could just live here, too. It’s a big house.”
“I love Kevin and Mae, but having them here would be impossible. And I have little faith that you’ll go through with this.” Mike finished and cleaned the stove.
Liz cleared the table, snuggled up behind him, and draped her arms around his neck. “I’m here to stay. No going back.” His warm, muscular body smelled like Ivory soap, baby shampoo, pure comfort.
Mike twisted out of her grasp. “I’m going to bed. You’re welcome to join me, but I can’t handle any nookie right now. Maybe we can work this out, but it will take time to get back to where we were.”
“I understand.” So much for making him remember why he married her.
“You made a big concession. I can at least commit to trying.” He brushed away her tears, but there was no tenderness, no affection.
She tidied up, shook off his rebuff. By the time Liz got upstairs, Mike was already asleep, curled around a pillow.
Her toothbrush still rested in the stand. Extra clothes, make-up, tub toys for Eddie they’d left behind lay scattered about since they’d last fled here for temporary peace and quiet, when the Barrett Inn was full of guests, and the ghosts were just starting to emerge.
Liz nearly fell asleep soaking in the tub. She toweled off and rubbed baby lotion into her chapped skin. She dabbed on her favorite scented talc, preferring the more adult citrus fragrance to baby powder.
Her nightgowns were in the dresser drawer, but she didn’t dare go into the bedroom swathed in a towel. She would do nothing to pressure him into intimacy before he was ready. Chilled from standing naked on the cold tile, Liz took Mike’s bathrobe from behind the door. It nearly dragged on the floor, and she had to wrap the belt twice around her to hitch it up. He certainly wouldn’t fault her for seducing him in this getup.
She slunk into the bedroom. Sheer curtains would let in more light. A pastel color would brighten the walls, dingy from years of dirt over 1970s olive green paint. They’d planned to let who ever bought it redecorate, but now it would be their home.
Pain seared Liz’s insides. She suppressed the flood of tears until she pulled her sensible long tee shirt from the sticky dresser drawer and darted back into the bathroom. Mike didn’t stir as wood scraped over wood and the door closed a bit too hard.
She ran water in the sink to muffle the sobs. How could she sell the beautiful Barrett Inn, the business she’d worked so hard to build up? The house Edward had insisted she stay in. The ghostly apparition might have been released from her moment of anguish, finally knowing her husband was never coming home. But the woman who remained behind contemplated letting Mike have his solitary life, leaving her to do the same.
Liz sank to the floor and cried until her head throbbed, her throat hurt. She splashed cool water on her face, but nothing would soothe her eyes, red, swollen, and heavy with exhaustion. If only they could be as in love as Mae and Kevin, curled up with each other, and Eddie, in the cottage. If only Mae knew what was not transpiring, that Mike was sleeping while she hid in the bathroom, afraid to disturb her own husband by lying next to him in bed. But she was too tired and cold and didn’t come over here to sleep on a dirty bathroom floor.
He still lay in the same position, face taut, angry, even though his breathing was slow, measured, deep. Those dreams were not likely pleasant.
Liz eased onto the mattress and paused to look over the tops of the shutters at the crescent moon and a smattering of stars. She tried reading, fumbled, lost her grip on the magazine, and left it splayed on the floor.
Flat on her back, she moved as close as she could get to the edge without falling out. Tears moistened her earlobes, her neck, her pillow. Pale moonlight glinted in the mirror. An eerie silver light reflected across the room rendering it into a black and white negative. Dark clouds dotted the sky, signaling an impending storm.
Furniture, lampshades, picture frames all took on mystical personae, but there was no aura, no tingling, no cold. No ghosts. Liz let her eyes close, acutely aware of Mike just inches away, though they were separated by miles, the gap too wide to be bridged. She turned off her brain and curled on her side, facing the husband who wanted nothing to do with her.
Chapter 39
Mike had become accustomed to plenty of space in the middle. Blankets, not his wife, kept him warm. He might never feel the heat of desire again, but life without bad dreams or apparitions was peaceful.
He’d seen none of Elisabeth’s blank death stare since the night at the gazebo, only Liz’s spark of life, of determination, convincing him she would follow through. But he’d be blamed for forcing her to sell the Barrett Inn, to give up the business she’d worked so hard to develop, and put Mae and Kevin out. Why did he feel this need to punish her?
Liz went straight into the bathroom. She’d languish in the tub, exfoliating with a loofah, running her hands over her body, making him wish he was in there with her, helping. Climbing out, dripping, glistening, toweling off, one leg on the tub rim, showing him the way to her, while she massaged that delicious citrus body lotion in, powdered herself. He wouldn’t be there when she turned her back, to get the spots she couldn’t reach, to make love on the bathroom rug like they’d once fantasized.
She was doing her part to honor her part of the bargain to leave him in peace. The bathrobe hem fell to the floor, and she had the belt wrapped around her twice trying unsuccessfully to hitch it up. The sleeves were rolled, but still fell over her hands like sorcerer’s garb. In another time and place, this would be funny.
He opened his eyes a crack. The dresser drawer scrunched open. She grabbed a nightgown before tiptoeing back into the bathroom. She fiddled, doing God only knows what. The light flicked off, and she came out in a loose fitting tee shirt. The curve of her breasts and two nipples peeked through, taunted him. He knew what else lay beneath that shapeless, very unsexy garment. Everything tonight was the opposite of what it was supposed to be.
Like a naughty child, he spied through slits while she stared out the window then rearranged a few things on her nightstand, looked for her glasses, turned pages, trying not to make noise but, of course, she dropped a magazine onto the floor with a thud.
Reassured he hadn’t awakened, she stared over the top of the shutters as clouds gathered in the sky, blocking out the light. She slid into bed, rubbed lotion into her feet. The nightgown rose to the tops of her winter white thighs, enticing him.
Liz extended her hand as if to stroke his face, then thought better of it. Her shoulders shook as she cried, yet only an occasional sniff betrayed the silent release.
Guilt needled him. He was pretending to be asleep while wanting nothing more than to hold Liz as tight as he could, and release years of tears and rage. If he reached for her, she would come to him; desire had oozed out of her since she’d arrived.
Liz clicked off the light. Tears glistened on her cheeks. He forced himself to lie still, wanting to grab her, kiss her, fuck her, yes fuck her, punish her, tame her, claim her, possess her. But Jared would never do that, nor would Mike. They were too passive, too timid, too gentlemanly.
Her breathing slowed, deepened. He craved the feel of her heartbeat against his chest. The only measure of relief for Jared’s perpetual anguish threatening to boil over was the aching, throbbing erection Mike feared
he’d never have again.
He stroked Liz’s arm. As he drew closer, her foot brushed down his leg and settled onto the top of his foot as if he was a rung on a ladder helping her climb out of an abyss. He loved when she did that.
The warmth of her body, the softness of her skin, and the aroma of her body lotion conjured a longing, which he only had to act upon to fulfill. No he wasn’t ready for that. Mike drifted to sleep.
Jared found Elisabeth on the porch. Damp curls hung over her neck. He’d just bathed to remove the grime from working the gardens all day. Katherine had left a pitcher of lemonade on the table. Jared drained his glass in one gulp. Elisabeth sipped, but left her glass, half full, on the tray.
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