by Sharon Sala
Her voice shook. “I think you look amazing.”
“You think this would be okay for the party?”
“I think it would be perfect,” she said, and clutched her fingers to keep them from shaking.
“I’ll try on a couple more, but I like this. It all fits.”
She nodded, watching as he walked away smiling.
Clothes make the man feel like a man.
“I get it,” Tara whispered, then picked up a white shirt and a tie that pulled the outfit together. She knew he wasn’t through trying on clothes, but that was the one he would choose. She’d seen a look in his eyes she’d never seen before. Pride was a hard thing to come by, and when it was lost, hard to get back. But she’d seen it just now, and like the clothes he’d been wearing, it looked good on him.
The older she got, the more she cared about her loved ones, living or not so much.
THE CHOCOLATE-brown sports coat and black slacks, along with a new shirt and tie, were hanging in Pat’s closet, ready for the party tomorrow night; the groceries were long since put away. Tara’s fudge was on the counter, cooling. Her call to Flynn had gone to voicemail, and so she waited impatiently for him to call back.
She moved to the windows, looking out across the street to where Uncle Pat was shoveling off the driveway for the young neighbor whose husband was serving in Afghanistan. The neighbor would have a nice surprise when she got off work and got home tonight.
Pat had a good heart. He deserved some personal happiness. If he and Mona really hit it off, she and Flynn would work the rest of it out. Uncle Pat had sacrificed enough of his life for her. It was time he put some of his needs first.
MARSH STORY popped the top on a beer and picked up his burger.
“Where are the fries? I asked for fries.”
Vince shrugged as he chewed. “I don’t know. I have mine,” he said and dipped another one in ketchup then popped it in his mouth.
Dig was eating a hotdog and Tater Tots. He just shrugged and kept eating.
Marsh sighed. Hooking up with these two had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he wasn’t so sure, now. They couldn’t even get an order right from the local drive-in. Even though they’d been scoping out their target since a week before Christmas, expecting them to successfully pull off a kidnapping was beginning to look like a mistake.
Marsh looked around the kitchen of May Schulter’s home and realized how fortunate for him that she had not been the one to raise him. It was just above the level of pigsty, although to be fair, she’d been in prison now for over three months, which explained the dust, but the hoarder aspect of the place gave him the creeps.
“Weatherman said the snow would start melting tomorrow,” Vince offered.
Marsh took a bite of his burger and washed it down with a swig of beer.
“Did you put the truck battery on the charger?”
Vince nodded.
“Good,” Marsh said. “So here’s the deal. This is Sunday. Stillwater High School resumes classes on Wednesday. We have three days to prepare.”
“Prepare for what?” Dig asked. “You said we’d snatch her on her way to school, so we snatch her on her way to school.”
Marsh frowned. “We know her uncle leaves for work way before she has to leave the house, and they only have one vehicle, which means she walks.”
“Unless she catches a ride. When I was in high school, I used to catch a ride every morning with some of the guys,” Vince said.
Marsh’s frown deepened. “Then we wait until her uncle leaves the house and take her in a home-invasion-style snatch. That’s even better.”
Vince squeezed extra ketchup on another french fry and popped it in his mouth. “These fries would be good with jalapeno slices. I like spicy food. We need to try out that Mexico Joe’s restaurant while we’re here. I’ll bet they have some good spicy food.”
Marsh snapped and before he thought, slapped Vince on the side of the head. “We’re not on vacation! We’re here to find the money,” he said.
Vince stood up, still holding his burger and still chewing. “Do not hit me again, Marshall. I know the way back home, and I am losing interest by the minute in this crazy scheme of yours.”
Dig was shocked by Marsh’s behavior. “I’m with Vince. When you first talked about this, I thought you pretty much knew where the money was, and all we were gonna do was dig it up. I didn’t count on kidnapping some teenager.”
Marshall felt his plan coming undone. He needed their help to get the girl. When he was digging up the money he could dig that hole big enough to bury the both of them, if they kept pissing him off. “Just calm down. Half a million dollars is worth a little trouble, right?”
“Just don’t hit me again,” Vince muttered.
“I won’t. That was my bad. I apologize,” Marsh said.
The three men glared at each other in silence as they continued to eat, but the mood was definitely testy. Wednesday would come none too soon.
MONDAY MORNING dawned cold but sunny.
Tara was up before daybreak. By the time Pat was out of the shower and dressed for work, she had a hot breakfast ready.
“Wow, you didn’t have to do all this,” Pat said, as he sat down to scrambled eggs and sausage.
“I woke early and couldn’t go back to sleep. Do you want one slice of toast or two?”
“I’ll take two,” Pat said. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I’m good for now,” she said. “I ate some sausage while I was cooking it.”
“It sure is good,” Pat said.
She smiled and put a second piece of bread in the toaster.
A short while later he was gone, and, once again, Tara was on her own. She turned on the television as she swept the floor and then got out Pat’s new shirt and ironed all the wrinkles out of it for the party tonight. It was a little bit after eight fifteen when she hung it up then wandered into the living room and sat down to watch TV. She wanted to call Flynn, but not before nine, in case he was sleeping in.
Henry popped up and settled beside her.
He wants to watch the History Channel.
Tara grinned. Millicent always knew what Henry wanted, which was probably why he never talked. “Why?”
We’ve lived so many past lives we think of it as watching home movies of a family reunion.
Tara blinked. “You’re kidding.”
No, and this time it’s about the French and Indian War, which fits right in with the mood he’s been in. That coonskin cap still looks ridiculous.
Tara scanned the TV guide, found the History Channel, and clicked the remote, then sat with them, staring intently at the screen.
We should have popcorn.
Tara frowned. “It’s morning. Who eats popcorn in the morning?”
I’ll do the popcorn. You stay and watch.
“Seriously? No! Wait! I don’t want popcorn.”
I saw you. You didn’t eat breakfast. It’s good fiber. It will be good for your digestive system.
Tara rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of God! You did not just suggest I might need a laxative!”
All of a sudden Henry began pointing and then popped up beside the television with his finger on the screen.
Tara leaned forward, staring intently at a painting that supposedly depicted a battle during that time in history.
“Are you saying you were at that battle?”
Henry nodded, then began marching around the couch like he was on guard, then he grabbed his chest and fell backward.
The sudden sound of popcorn popping broke the silence.
“Is that how you died?”
He nodded as he floated toward the ceiling.
Tara felt like crying.
“I’m sorry, Henry. I’m very sorry that you died.”
He bounced off a couple of walls to show her that he was fine.
“Okay, I get it. You’re happy now, but that was weird, seeing you like that.”
Popcorn is done
. You should come get it while it’s hot.
Tara sighed. There was no way to win an argument with Millicent.
“I’m coming.”
IT WAS MID-afternoon when Flynn returned her call, and she could tell by the tone of his voice he was rattled.
“Flynn? What’s wrong?”
“I think my dad’s been trying to contact me.”
Tara sighed. “I wondered when that would start up. Remember, I told you I made a deal with him. I promised that when he was ready, I’d help him talk to you in this life.”
“He’s never come to you before now?” Flynn asked.
“Nope. Not a peep. Not a sign. What makes you think it’s him now?”
“When my phone rings, his name pops up in caller ID, but there’s no one there.”
Tara could hear the anxiety in Flynn’s voice. “I’ll help you, but we need to be together to do this. What are you doing for New Year’s Eve?”
“Hoping to spend it with you, why?”
“Good. That’s why I called you earlier. Mona and Uncle Pat are going to that party. I thought maybe we could ring in the New Year here, unless you have a better idea.”
“No parties. I keep hearing too many voices.”
“I’ll help you with that, too,” she said. “Just get here, and we’ll see about contacting your dad and blocking the voices.”
“Thank you, Moon Girl, more than you can know.”
“Can’t wait to see you,” Tara said.
“I’ll bring snacks,” he said.
“I made fudge.”
“You are my sweet fix. Later.”
Tara was still smiling when she disconnected.
TARA TOOK A picture of Pat in all his finery before he left to pick Mona up.
“Have fun, Uncle Pat, but be careful. Drunk drivers and all that, you know.”
Pat knew Tara was feeling him out about drinking, which he’d done way too much of in the past. “I’ve already told Mona I’m the designated driver, so no worries, okay? You and Flynn have fun.”
She hugged him. “We will. He’s bringing snacks, and there are New Year’s Eve shows and movies to watch.”
Pat paused and, in a rare gesture of affection, cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead. “Love you, honey. See you later.”
Tara’s vision blurred. “Love you, too, Uncle Pat.” Moments later, he was gone.
She locked the door, then turned around and caught movement from the corner of her eye.
“Well, there you are,” Tara said.
Michael O’Mara’s spirit was trying to manifest, and Tara could see he was having trouble gathering energy to do it. “You still haven’t crossed over, have you?”
Michael shook his head. We had a deal.
“I know that. I haven’t gone anywhere. You’re the one who didn’t make contact.”
She felt his frustration, but didn’t understand it.
They’re here.
She frowned. “Who’s here?”
After the money.
Her heart skipped a beat. “Is this why my life is in danger?”
He nodded. Sorry.
“OMG. Is this never going to be over? Please! Tell me where it is so the police can recover it, and then that will be that.”
He faded. She heard a faint pop, and then he was gone. Tara was on the verge of panic. “Millicent!”
I’m here. We heard.
“What can I do to make this stop?”
Until you find the money it will never be over.
Tara sat down with a plop, defeated by her lack of control and struggling against the urge to cry. As she sat, she saw a light from outside flash against the curtains. Flynn was here. She wondered if his father’s spirit would return, or even if he could return.
Flynn was smiling when she opened the door.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said softly.
She shivered. “Hey, yourself. I’m really glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” Flynn said. “Some of this stuff needs to go in the fridge.”
He handed her the sack of snacks he’d brought, and she headed for the kitchen, dug out the dip and cold drinks and put them in the refrigerator, then turned around to find Flynn had shed his coat and was right behind her.
He opened his arms.
She walked into his embrace and laid her cheek against his chest. When he wrapped his arms around her, she couldn’t help but think of how tall he was getting, and how much bigger he was than when they first met. They’d been through a lot together in a few short months, but it was their brush with death that had shifted the focus of their feelings. They’d learned the hard way how swiftly a life could end.
“Tara.”
She looked up.
Flynn lowered his head.
She closed her eyes, waiting for it—waiting for the kiss.
His lips were still cool from the chill of the night, but swiftly warmed and softened as the pressure increased, and for Tara, time ceased.
When Flynn finally pulled back, there was a moment when she felt like she’d just lost a piece of herself.
“Oh, wow,” Flynn said softly.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Tara said, and combed shaky fingers through her hair.
“I think that calls for something cold,” Flynn said.
Like a cold shower.
Flynn grinned. “I heard that.”
Tara blushed. “OMG. Remembering that you can hear people’s thoughts is going to take some readjustment.”
He had a defeated look on his face. “Tell me about it. How in the world do you shut out the spirits?”
“I grew up this way, so it seems normal to me. But we obviously need to work on your skills. Do you hear thoughts all the time?”
“It’s worse when I let down my guard.”
She nodded, thinking of the best way to help him as she got glasses out of the cabinet and filled them with ice. Flynn took the cold drinks out of the refrigerator and opened the dip and chips while she poured their drinks.
“What you’re going to have to work on is focus. When you’re in a crowd and overwhelmed by the voices, focus specifically on the person you’re talking to. Think of it like squinting your eyes against too much sunlight. And until you get better at it, just walk away to center yourself before you go back.”
Flynn’s eyes widened. “Yeah, okay. I get what you mean. I can do that.”
Tara patted his arm. “You’ll get it. Let’s take the stuff into the living room. You pick out what you want to watch. There are movies on TV or several New Year’s Eve parties being broadcast.”
“I vote for a movie.”
She smiled. “Good choice.”
They were on their way to the living room when Flynn’s cell phone began to ring. “Oh sorry, I meant to put that on vibrate and forgot.” He set down his food, then frowned at the message in the text and held it up for Tara to see. Call me. Dad. “This is creepy,” Flynn muttered and sat down.
Tara sat down beside him, dipped a corn chip into the dip, and popped it into her mouth. “He was here earlier.”
Flynn looked as shocked as he sounded. “What? Why would he come to you?”
Tara sighed. They’d never talked in depth about what she’d gone through with Michael while Flynn was in a coma, because when Flynn woke up, he didn’t remember being with his dad, and she hadn’t wanted to mention it was his father’s spirit that kept him in that condition.
“We made a deal when you were in a coma.”
“You and my dad made a deal?”
She nodded. “If he would let you come back—”
“If he would let me come back? What the hell, Tara? What exactly was he doing?”
She sighed, swiped a chip in the dip, and put it in his mouth. “Chew. Enjoy. I’ll try to explain.”
Flynn chewed, but he looked uneasy.
“The simplest explanation is that your dad has unfinished business with you and was trying to talk to you, but you couldn’t see o
r understand him. You just felt the pull of his love.”
Flynn was stunned.
Tara kept talking. “He died before he could reveal the location of the money, and he knew that caused you and your mom trouble.”
“So that’s what he said to you today?”
“Not exactly.”
Flynn stilled. “What exactly did he say?”
“They’re here.”
Flynn frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You know those dreams I keep having about dying?”
Flynn’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, what about them?”
“There are more people looking for that missing money, and my life is going to be in danger because of it.”
Flynn stood up. “No! Damn it, that’s enough, Dad! Get your ass here right now and tell us where that money is hidden before you get Tara killed.”
Chapter Four
TARA FELT MICHAEL’S spirit coming before she saw him. “He’s here,” she said.
Flynn was turning in a circle, scanning every corner, looking for substance when substance was long since gone. “Dad! Dad! Where’s the money?”
Tara could see Michael trying to manifest, but it wasn’t happening. He was little more than a faint shadow that only she could see.
Mona knows.
Tara gasped.
Flynn frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“He said your mother knows.”
“That’s a lie!”
Doesn’t know, but she can find.
“Oh . . . okay, he’s having trouble making himself understood, Flynn. Don’t be mad at him. This is hard. He said she doesn’t know, but she can find it. That’s a whole other thing. Like if he put it in a place only she would understand.”
The shadow swirled, leaving Tara with the impression that she was right on target. But Flynn didn’t see it and didn’t care. He was angry, and rightly so.
“Then say what has to be said and quit being so secretive. If it wasn’t for Tara, I’d be dead. I trust her more than I ever trusted you, and if that hurts, then deal with it.”
