by B. N. Toler
“You did good,” he lies with a smirk.
“If by good, you mean sucked ass, then yes, I did good,” I grumble and am blessed with another knee weakening George McDermott laugh.
“I’m glad you liked it,” George says, as he takes my hand and leads us toward the house. “Now it’s time to eat.”
The evening is amazing. I’d been nervous about this dinner, but I’ve loved every minute of it. The McDermott family is warm and inviting and after being cold and alone for so long, it brings a kind of contentment I haven’t felt in a long time; a feeling of home.
After I tell them where I’m from and some very vague details about my family, avoiding discussing Axel at all costs, we have dessert. Beverly made tiramisu, just as she promised. Afterwards, Beverly assigns the men to dish duty and she leads me into the family room. The walls are filled with family photos of Ike and George in football and baseball uniforms. The boys at a young age, fly-fishing with their father. There are even pictures of Cameron as a baby. I’m staring at a photo of him with a pair of sunglasses on at the piano; my guess is he’s impersonating Ray Charles.
“We didn’t get Cameron until he was twelve. We managed to get the baby photos of him from a relative of his.” She smiles as she looks at the very photo I’m holding. “That boy has so much personality. I thank God every day for bringing him into my life.”
“He seems like an amazing guy,” I agree.
“His mother worked for Henry and passed away in a car accident. Cameron had always been around the office after school, and Henry insisted we take him in if Cameron agreed. Luckily he did, because in the last year laughter has run short, and Cameron seems to always find a way to keep it here.” She pauses for a moment before stepping toward the wall.
“And this,” she pulls a frame from the wall, “is my Ike. I’m sure you’ve heard, but we lost him in Afghanistan.” Her features soften and her eyes glaze over with emotion.
“I have heard, and I’m so sorry for your loss.” She hands me the frame and I smile at Ike dressed in a tux for what I would guess was his senior prom. The girl beside him is wearing a long, red dress and smiling brightly. They look like they were the cool kids, prom king and queen. This must be the high school girlfriend he spoke of.
“I want to be angry he’s gone . . . blame God or everything, but I can’t. That beautiful boy came into my life, and it was my honor to love him every day he was here.”
Something causes me to look back, and I see Ike has returned. He’s watching us, his expression soft as he listens to his mother speak about him.
“If you could say anything to him right now, and know for sure he could hear you,, what would you say?”
Her brows furrow as she stares at his photo. “I’d tell him he made me proud. Every day of his life I was so proud to be his mama. I’d tell him that I love him more than words could ever convey, and he’ll always be in my thoughts, every day for the rest of my life.”
Tears threaten to spill from my eyes with her words. “I bet he’d tell you what an amazing mother you are,” I speak for Ike. Anyone can see this woman is mother of a lifetime material.
She smiles and hangs his photo back on the wall. “I’m glad you came tonight, Charlotte. I hope you and George become good . . . friends.”
I chuckle. “Our friendship thus far has been very futile.”
“George is a bit of a mess right now, but I think he just needs to find a nice—”
“You ready?” George interrupts from the doorway leading in to the family room. His jaw is set and his mouth is in a hard, flat line. It’s not hard to tell he’s unhappy about something.
“We can stay longer if you’d like.” I actually want to stay. I’ve really enjoyed this evening.
“No. I need to go. Meeting up with someone in a bit,” he says, irritably. I glare at him. Probably meeting up with Misty. I fight the urge to say something shitty to him as his mother is standing right beside me.
“Why don’t you go say good-bye to my father and Cameron. I need to speak with my mother for a moment,” he states curtly.
The tension is thick in the air as I turn to Beverly and hug her. “Thank you so much for an amazing dinner. I truly enjoyed it.”
“Anytime, dear. You’ll come back soon, won’t you?”
“I’d like that.”
As I slip past George, he doesn’t look at me. I make my way into the kitchen where Mr. McDermott and Cameron are arguing about football. They both hug me good-bye, and I head back to the family room to let George know I’m ready, but as I near the room, I overhear George speaking loudly.
“I’m fine, Mom,” he says.
“No. You’re sad and that’s okay, George. Ike was your twin, your best friend. But at some point you have to give yourself permission to be happy again,” Beverly says.
“I am happy, and I don’t need you trying to set me up with some drifter. I’m okay. I don’t need a woman to fix me.”
“She seems like a lovely girl,” Beverly argues. “I just want to see you happy, George. Really happy.”
“Mom . . . I’m okay. Trust me. The last thing I need right now is a girlfriend, let alone one with issues like her.”
Issues? Is he fucking kidding me? If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black . . . Having heard enough, I stomp obnoxiously the remainder of the way to the family room, alerting them to my approach. When I peek in, they’re both silent, and Beverly looks embarrassed and apologetic.
“I’m ready,” I chirp with a bit of bite. “Thank you again, Beverly.”
“Anytime, honey.”
With that, I tromp out to my truck, and George follows shortly after. He directs me back to my motel and when I park the truck, I get out and slam the door. “Thanks, George. See you at work,” I call over my shoulder as I pull out the key to my room. Just as I’m about to insert it in the lock, I’m pulled back, my gaze meeting George’s.
“What’s with the mood swing?”
I laugh, haughtily. “Mood swing?”
“Yeah. Why are you acting so bitchy?”
“I’m not,” I say, as I unlock my door. “I just have some issues I’m dealing with.” With that, I slip inside and slam the door in his face. After a few minutes the sound of his motorcycle firing to a start blares and he takes off.
“That went well,” Ike snorts from where he sits in his chair.
Glaring at him, I warn, “Not another fucking word, Ike.”
After changing in to my pajamas, I crawl in bed and Ike lies beside me. And to his credit, he doesn’t breathe another word.
Due to my work schedule, I have to swing by the Mercers’ gas station and postpone dinner. Mr. Mercer understood how badly I needed the money, and we agreed I’d join them for dinner early next week. As I’m leaving, a dark-haired girl is standing in the back of the store, watching me. I give a faint smile and exit, wondering if her wide-eyed expression is a sign. Did I just recognize another soul?
I’ve just made it to my truck and Ike has already morphed inside when she appears beside me. “You can see me?”
I close my eyes and sigh loudly. “Let me guess,” I say, defeated. “You’re the Mercers’ daughter?”
“Maggie,” she replies simply, pushing some of her dark hair behind her ear.
“Do you know why you’re here?”
“No.”
“I only see souls with unfinished business. Is there something you feel you left unresolved in your life?”
Her brows narrow. “My mom has been looking for something she couldn’t find when I passed. I want her to have it.”
“Who are you talking to, Charlotte?” Ike asks as he appears out of nowhere.
My gaze jerks between them. “You can’t see her?” I ask.
“See who?” they both reply in unison.
My brows rise to my hairline. I never knew these souls couldn’t see others. “I’m talking to the Mercers’ daughter,” I answer Ike. Then looking to Maggie, I tell her, “I’m talking to
Ike McDermott. I can see him, too.”
“Oh, yeah. I heard my parents say he died in Afghanistan.”
“She’s here right now?” Ike asks, unable to hear what Maggie is saying.
“Yes,” I answer. “Let’s get in the truck before someone sees me standing here talking to myself. They both morph inside and their souls are intertwined, making it hard to tell who is who. “Ike, can you get in the back for a minute? You guys are all intermingled. I’m getting you two confused.”
Ike morphs into the backseat and Maggie’s gaze, filled with eagerness, meets mine. “Listen, Maggie. Do you want to crossover?”
“Something is pulling at me. Like it wants to lead me away, but I don’t know where. Is it heaven?”
I let out an exasperated breath. I wish I knew. The truth is, I don’t know. Many souls have described that pull to me, but no one knows what lies ahead. “I wish I could tell you,” I answer her as I start my truck. “Do you want me to help you with your mom? Help you tell her where the necklace is?”
“Charlotte, I hate to sound like a dick, but you can’t tell the Mercers what you can do before helping George,” Ike says. “If it gets out, it could make things complicated.”
He’s right; it could. George is a mess right now, and we have no idea how he’d take it. “Maggie, I need some time before I can help you. I’m in the middle of helping Ike and his situation is complicated. If you’ll be patient, I promise I’ll help you.” I have no idea how the Mercers will take me telling them I can communicate with their long-deceased daughter, but if I can bring them peace, I must. They’ve been so kind to me.
“I’ve been gone ten years. What’s a little more time?” She shrugs.
“I’m Charlotte, by the way.”
“I know. My parents think a lot of you.” My heart swells with that. I showed up to this town looking like a homeless addict, and her parents have shown me such warmth and kindness.
“They’re great people,” I tell her. “Some of the best I’ve ever known.”
“I’ll see you at dinner at their house next week,” she tells me.
“Hey, just a heads-up. Try not to talk to me too much . . . it gets distracting, and since I’m the only one that can see you, it wouldn’t look good to seem like I’m talking to myself.”
“I hear ya,” she replies and smiles faintly. “I’ll try to keep quiet. Bye.” Then she vanishes. I frown slightly. She is by far the easiest soul I’ve ever had to deal with.
“Is she still here?” Ike asks from the backseat as I turn out of the parking lot of the Mercers’ gas station.
“No, she’s gone.”
He morphs into the front seat and stares out the window. “It really isn’t easy being you, is it, Charlotte?” he asks.
“Just another day for me,” I answer somberly.
Misty has been off the last two days, which has been wonderful, but George has been here, of course, and hasn’t spoken a word to me unless he’s grunting an order. After dinner with his folks and his attitude toward me, I need some space. Otherwise, I’m likely to snap at him and blow this whole plan to help him. Luckily, he decided to close early this evening since it’s slow and we’re not making any money.
As I’m sweeping under my tables, Anna saunters up to me. “I’m heading out, but I’ll pick you up at your motel in an hour.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask, confused.
“It’s Friday, and my mom is keeping River overnight. They have a decent band at the dance hall tonight. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
“I don’t have anything to wear, Anna. I think I’ll just head home and sleep.”
Putting her hand on her hip, she purses her lips and says, “Charlotte, you’re going. I have a bunch of dresses, and I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Dresses?” I ask, baffled. The closest I’ve gotten to wearing a dress in the last five years is a jean skirt. “Is it a dressy dance?”
“No,” she sighs. “But it’s nice to dress up a little when you can. I’m not bringing you prom dresses to try on. Chill. I have one I know will look great on you. Do you have any boots?”
“Some black ones . . . knee-length.”
“Okay . . . see you in an hour.”
After I finish up my tables, I head to the back where Sniper is almost done closing down the kitchen. “Are you going to this dance, tonight?” I ask, hoping to God he is so I know more than one person there.
“Yeah, Anna’s making me.”
I laugh. “You really like her, huh?”
Glancing sideways at me, he smirks and winks. Guess that was my answer.
An hour later, my makeup and hair are done, and Ike and I sit as I wait for Anna.
“Is this too much?” I ask him as I motion at my face.
“No, you look hot,” he assures me with that fabulous knee-knocking smile of his. “You’ll be the hottest girl there.”
“I doubt that,” I say, as I blush.
“I don’t.” When my gaze meets his, heat blankets my cheeks. The look he’s giving me is so intense.
I don’t know why, but I ask, “Would you dance with me tonight if you could?”
His brows rise, surprised by my question. Standing, he looks down at me, his expression serious. “Every fucking song. You wouldn’t have a chance to dance with anyone else the entire night.” When he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs. My heart tightens. There’s no denying there’s an attraction between us and I’ve wondered if it was just me, but now I know. Ike is feeling it, too. “But since I can’t, will you dance with me now?”
This time, my brows rise. “How . . . ?”
“It might be weird since we can’t touch, but we can move together.”
“What about the music?”
Smiling, he says, “I’ll sing.”
“You sing?” I grin.
“Uh, I try to, but I know I can pull this song off.”
“Jack-of-all-trades, huh?” I tease.
“Master of none,” he quips back.
“Okay. How do we do this?”
“Stand here and put your hand on the back of the chair.”
“Why?”
“To keep balance.” I do as he says and he gets as close as he can. My body urges me to lean toward him, but I resist. There’s nothing to lean in to. “Now close your eyes. Imagine my hands on your hips, your arms draped over my shoulders, and sway slightly to your right and back again.”
I move as he’s instructed and when he speaks again, his mouth is close to my ear and his voice vibrates through me, causing me to tremble. I want so badly to feel him, to touch him. He begins singing an old Travis Tritt song, Drift Off to Dream. It’s a song a man is singing to the woman he hasn’t yet found, but he’s telling her how much he wants her and what they’ll do when he finds her. Ike’s voice is amazing; rich and deep. With my eyes closed, his voice gently sounds in my ear, and my body sways as I imagine us on a dance floor, surrounded by other couples, smiling at one another as the band plays in the background and he lip-synchs the words to me. That’s what it should be like. Ike shouldn’t be dead; he should be here right now, holding me close and dancing with me. I want to get angry, but the words of the song cut me so deep, it brings me back, forcing me to recognize this moment before it passes.
Then we’ll dance to the radio, right up ’til dawn.
’Til you drift off to dream in my arms.
My heart aches as I take in the meaning behind the lyrics. Ike is telling me what we would do if we could; if he were alive and able to touch me. My eyes water as tears threaten to spill, my throat tight with emotion.
“Open your eyes, Charlotte,” Ike whispers, and I realize the song is over. I squeeze my eyes closed tighter, wishing I could hang on to this beautiful moment. I don’t want to let it go; the vision that’s all so clear in my mind of dancing in the arms of Ike McDermott. When I open them, we’re still swaying side-to-side in perfect unison. “Thank you for dancing with me,” he says, quietly, and smiles softly, his brown e
yes shining. God, he’s a beautiful man. Before I can respond, there’s a knock at the door and he quickly morphs outside, and then back in. “It’s Anna.”
I’m still holding the chair, frozen in place, trying to figure out how to move again. That was the best dance I’ve ever had and we didn’t even touch. Anna knocks on the door again, bringing me back to reality. Shaking off the completely romantic moment Ike and I just shared, I saunter to the door and open it.
“Damn, you look good, girl,” Anna cheers. She looks pretty good, too. She’s wearing a black dress with a tight cardigan and her hair is down; straight and sleek. “Here.” She shoves a green, cotton dress toward me.
“This is it?” I hold the dress up and try not to grimace at how small it looks. “I thought you were bringing a couple dresses for me to try on?”
“This is the one. I know it will look hot on you. I have a knack for these things.”
“If it will even fit,” I mumble as I hurry into the bathroom and change.
When I come out, Anna grins. “I knew you’d look hot.”
My gaze moves to Ike briefly and he’s staring at me, his jaw set tightly. “Beautiful,” he whispers, and I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face. “I’m going to go check on my folks,” he says to me, even though I’ve torn my eyes from his and am busy collecting my purse. Then, he disappears. I frown, wondering if he’s upset about something.
“It hugs you in all the right places,” Anna says, speaking of the dress.
“Little bit low in the front, don’t ya think?” I ask as I attempt to tug the low-cut dress up to cover my cleavage, which is spilling out. I slip on my leather jacket and check myself out in the mirror one more time.
“Yep, and that’s why George is going to have a stroke when he sees you in it.”
“Excuse me?” I almost choke as I spin around to face her. “George?”
