by B. N. Toler
“No, we want to know,” Mrs. Purcell pipes up; her voice shaky. “If she endured it, I can at least endure hearing it.”
I nod once in understanding. “She screamed as loud as she could. She tried to fight him but he was too strong. She said her throat burned she screamed so loud, but he started bashing her in the head with something . . . she thought it was a flashlight. That was the last thing she remembered.”
“Was it the man at the bar she danced with?” Detective Andrews asks, and I’m shocked he’s entertaining the thought that he may actually believe me. “Another girl went missing a week ago,” he informs me. “We think her disappearance could be connected to Casey’s.” My heart sinks. I should’ve gone to the police and tried to help. If it was the same guy, maybe I could’ve stopped it. The look of horror on the Purcells’ faces is too much to bear and tears stream down my face as guilt slithers through me. I’ve been so busy running from my gift, only using it because I absolutely had to, when I could have been helping, really helping.
“His name is Jeremy. At least that’s what he told her.”
“Is she still here?” Mr. Purcell asks; his voice hopeful.
“No, sir. I’m sorry. But she rode with me from Vermont to here and told me some stories about you, both of you. You guys used to take a road trip to Montana once a year, right?” They both gasp, their eyes lighting with hope.
“She couldn’t tell you where he went?” Andrews asks.
“It doesn’t work like that. They’re only tied to this world to the people they have to help. She needed to help her family. Nothing mattered more than that to her.”
Mrs. Purcell sniffles. Taking her husband’s hand, she gazes at him with tear-filled eyes. “It was killing us not knowing. Now, it hurts, but at least we know she’s really gone.”
We talk for a bit longer, and I give the Purcells all of the information I can. When they leave, they both hug me and Detective Andrews leads them out. “You’re not leaving town anytime soon, are you?” he asks me.
“My father wants me to leave with him tomorrow.”
“I may have more questions,” he says, as if that will make me stay.
“He junked my truck, and I just lost my job at the restaurant. I’m not sure I have much of a choice at this point.”
“We have plenty of room for you, Charlotte,” Henry says. “You don’t have to go anywhere. You can sleep in Ike’s old room.” My eyes clench closed as an ache forms in my chest. Ike will go soon.
“I’ll be in touch first thing tomorrow,” Detective Andrews says to Henry before leaving, noting my emotional state.
“Ike’s a special man, isn’t he?” Henry says, as he leads me back in and shuts the door.
“Yes, he is,” I agree, wiping at my face with my arm. “One of the best men I’ve ever known.”
“And George is pretty special, too, huh?” He gives me a knowing smirk. Is it that obvious I love them both?
“Ike saved me,” I explain. “He came out of nowhere and changed my life. He’s everything good in the world.”
Henry smiles as he nods. “That’s a good way to describe him.”
“And George, there’s a lot of love in there, ya know? He seems so . . . tough, but he has such a soft heart. I’m in love with both of your sons, Henry,” I admit, and although I’m scared of what he’ll say, it feels so good to say it to someone, and get it off my chest.
“So when Ike leaves, to you, it will feel like he’s died,” he says, grimly, with sympathy in his eyes.
“It’ll feel like half of my heart is going with him,” I weep, wiping at my face.
“Will you stay? I mean . . . after he goes?”
An image of George flickers through my mind, his dark eyes and easy smile—he’s really beautiful when he shows the real him. When Ike leaves, if I leave George behind, I think I’ll only be a shell of a person. But he’s so angry with me, what else can I do? “I love George, Henry, but . . .”
“But he’s acting like a jackass?”
I smile faintly. “Ike and I knew he might take it rough, but I didn’t expect so much . . . anger.”
Henry pats my shoulder. “I hope you won’t give up on him. Give him a little time to come around. He’s deeply hurt, is all.”
“I’ll try,” I promise, but I’m not sure George will give me the time of day.
Mope. Mope. Mope. If you looked up the word ‘mope’ in the dictionary, George’s picture would be right beside it. He’s walked around in a daze, brooding for hours at a time. His dejected mood saddens me, but I will say this, he hasn’t done drugs, and that is a very good thing. All he’s done is sit around and be pissed off.
“George, I know you’re hurting, brother. Stop being a douche and go talk to her,” I tell him, and I’m filled with sorrow that he can’t hear my words. It upsets me to see him like this. This is not how he normally is at all.
When there’s a knock at the door, he sits frozen for a moment, debating on whether to ignore it or not. Maybe he thinks it’s Charlotte. “George, I know you’re in there,” Sniper yells from outside, and George rolls his eyes. “Open the fucking door, ya wanker.”
“Piss off!” George yells back, remaining seated on the couch.
The doorknob turns slightly, but it’s locked. After it jiggles a bit, the lock pops and Sniper opens the door and enters, credit card in hand. “What the fuck, dude?” George snaps. “You’re breaking in to my house now?”
“Oh, shut it,” Sniper orders. “I’m not going to let you sit here and be pissed off. Do you even know why you’re so angry?”
“Oh, let’s see,” George begins, his voice laced with sarcasm, as Sniper sits on the sofa chair next to the couch. “She lied about who she is and why she’s here. I don’t even know what to think about the crazy ramblings she’s spewing; that she can see and speak to my dead brother. Oh, and let’s not forget she ratted me out to Roger and I got my ass beat.”
“You were fucking his girlfriend,” Sniper says, dryly. “Kind of warranted an ass beating, if you ask me.”
“Maybe, but she set that shit in motion,” George snaps.
“She didn’t mean for you to get hurt. She just wanted him to scare some sense into you.”
“I’m not scared of that douche bag, and if it had been one-on-one, I would’ve taken him. They jumped me.”
“I know,” Sniper agrees, as do I. “She just wanted to get Misty away from you so you could get clean.”
George shakes his head before leaning forward, resting his arms on his knees. “I really thought she might be the one. I mean, I didn’t know what to think of her at first. I thought she was different.”
“George,” Sniper says, gruffly. “The girl is in love with you.”
“I know, she started to tell me last night.”
“And?”
“And how do I know she’s being truthful, Sniper?” George asks as he stands and moves to the kitchen, grabbing a Coke out of the fridge.
“You really don’t see it?” Sniper asks in disbelief, standing and walking over to the counter that separates the kitchen and living room. “The way she looks at you. Hell, even when she gives you shit, trying to piss you off, I can see how she feels.”
George shakes his head. “She did it for Ike.”
“No, shit head, she did it for both of you. Did you not see the look on her face when you told her you never wanted to see her again?”
George’s face blanches with embarrassment and his eyes narrow as he remembers. “I was angry.”
“You were a dick is what you were. She and Ike knew you would be upset and maybe have a hard time coming to terms with it all, but none of us thought you’d react like that.”
“Look!” George shouts. “I’m just getting clean so I’m on edge. I fall for this strange drifter who keeps pushing me all the time, only to find out it was supposedly motivated by my brother’s soul that’s stuck in limbo because of me. Forgive me if I wasn’t as rational as you would’ve liked.”
“So y
ou don’t believe her?” Sniper asks point-blank.
“I don’t know,” he sighs. “She can be pretty damn convincing.”
Sniper shakes his head and runs a hand over his shaved scalp. “I believe her.”
“Her father says she’s crazy. You heard the guy.”
“Her father’s a dipshit, and you know it,” Sniper booms. “I know she’s telling the truth, and if you had stayed yesterday and listened, you would’ve seen it for yourself.”
“Man,” George sighs as he places his Coke can on the counter. “I know everyone likes her, and even I was caught up in it. But no matter what, Sniper, I’m not good for her either. She needs to go home and be with her family so they can help her.”
“You’d really let her leave?” Sniper’s expression is sheer disappointment and shock.
“I think it would be best.”
“Bullshit,” Sniper snaps and stomps toward the door. “I can’t see Ike or hear what he’s saying unless she tells me, but I know him like the back of my hand, and so do you. I know he’s here! And there is no fucking way he’s not crazy about her. But he’s dead, and he’s crossing over soon. He has to leave her. You, on the other hand, are behaving like a fucking idiot. You could have her if you wanted, but instead you’re choosing to sit here and be pissed off and miserable. Maybe you don’t deserve her.”
My eyes are wide as George silently watches Sniper exit, slamming the door behind him. A moment later, the door opens, and Sniper pokes his head back in. “And she’s keeping her job at the restaurant if she wants it. If you make her leave, I’ll be going elsewhere as well.” Then he slams the door again.
George stumbles backward until he meets the fridge, his expression heavy with uncertainty. “Don’t let her go, George.” I wish I could shake some sense into him, but I can’t. Here I am, wishing I could keep Charlotte for myself, but hoping against all odds that she and George will end up together. How fucked up is that?
Sniper arrives not long after Henry leaves. My tear ducts are on strike at the moment, dried up from overuse, but if they were working, I’d cry the moment I lay eyes on his somber face. He comes in, shutting the door behind him.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” he says, quietly. I sit on my bed and hug my knees.
“For what?” I ask in a husky voice. I’m emotionally exhausted. “You’ve done nothing but try and help me.” Just then, Ike appears, and I instantly feel worse because his expression is sad and worried. “Ike is here,” I tell Sniper.
“How’s he doing?” I ask both of them. They both release a snort.
“He’s still processing,” Ike says, gently.
“He’s being an ass,” Sniper mutters. “I know you’re sad, but get dressed. I’m taking you out to dinner. Anna’s going to meet us.”
“Sniper, I’m really not in the mood.”
“I know, and that’s why I’m making you go.”
“Who’s running Ike and George’s?”
“While George has been out the last week or so, we promoted Libby to temporary manager and Greg’s been running the kitchen when I’m not there. We’ve hired a new bartender and two servers as well.”
Letting out an exasperated breath, I stand. “I need to go and see my father.”
“No problem. We’ll go get dinner and then we’ll head over to the McDermotts’ place.”
I refuse to go into Ike and George’s, afraid George might be there, so Anna, Sniper, and I sit at the bar at Sam Snead’s, which is a block away. I insisted we sit at the bar; I thought a table would provoke too much conversation, which I am not in the mood for. Ike stays with us, near me constantly, and although we can’t speak, I find it comforting. I order a salad, but only pick at it; my stomach is knotted up with anxiety. Sniper keeps giving me worried looks, but mostly remains focused on speaking with Anna, to keep her from trying to talk to me too much. We told her my father was in town and we don’t get along very well, so at least she has a reason as to why I’m acting standoffish.
After we eat, we have a few drinks, which help me relax a little, but when Sniper runs to the restroom, I tell Anna I’m going to step outside for a moment for some air. Once outside, I lean against the building, gulping in the cold night air. Fall has officially landed here in the mountains and the crisp air causes my breath to fog whenever I exhale.
“How’re you holding up?” Ike asks.
“About as well as can be expected, I guess.”
“He’ll come around,” he tells me.
“Every which way I look, there’s pain, Ike.”
“Hey there, Char.” My head jerks up, and I see Roger standing about two feet from me. Where in the hell did he come from?
“Oh . . . uh . . . hi,” I manage, wondering if he heard me talking to Ike, which would look like I was talking to myself. Misty probably told him I do that.
“What are you doing out here all by yourself?” he asks as he slides his hands into his jacket pockets.
“Just needed some air,” I say. “You meeting someone?” It’s a dumb question, and it’s none of my business, but I don’t know what else we have to talk about.
“Nope. All alone.” His mouth curves slightly into a mischievous grin and my heart quickens. Is he going to hit on me?
“Walk away, Charlotte,” Ike instructs me, and without thinking, I head toward Ike and George’s. “No, back inside,” Ike hisses, but Roger is already beside me, walking with me. I could turn and run back in to Sam Snead’s, but I’m not sure if I have any reason to panic just yet. He hasn’t been rude or aggressive.
“Where’s Misty?” I ask, attempting to fill the awkward silence.
“Wouldn’t know.” He shrugs. “We’re not together anymore.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Are you? I mean, you’re the one that left me the letter about her and George.” My stomach clenches. I did do that, and it led to George getting jumped. I decide not to lie. “I didn’t mean for you to hurt him.”
Roger snorts. “What did you think would happen? That we’d have a calm conversation about it over coffee?”
I pinch my lips together. I did want Roger to scare him; that is true. But I truly thought I could keep it from getting physical with Sniper’s help. “I never meant for you and your brother to jump him.”
Roger sighs and runs a hand over his dark hair. “I’m just curious, why’d you do it? Do you want McDermott that bad, or do you just hate Misty that much?”
“I had my reasons; although now, it seems like it was a horrible idea.”
“Didn’t get your happy ending with Georgey?” Roger mocks and Ike morphs in front of us. His eyes are narrowed as he glares at Roger.
“Get the fuck away from this guy! Now!”
Realizing we’re now in front of Ike and George’s, I stop. “I have friends waiting on me. I gotta go. Later, Roger,” I say numbly.
“Sure,” Roger nods. “But we have something to discuss first.”
My brows rise to my hairline. “And what is that?”
“You and George aren’t together, are you?” he asks as he steps toward me, causing me to step back.
“Tell him it’s none of his business,” Ike growls.
“Is there a reason you want to know?”
Roger steps closer and I back away again until my back hits the brick wall of the building. He’s too close to me now, merely an inch or two away, and my heart is pounding in my chest. “I was just thinking, maybe you and I . . . ya know . . . could find some comfort in each other.” He places his hands against the building on each side of my head and brings his face close enough to mine that I can feel his warm breath.
Licking my lips, I swallow past the nervous knot in my throat. It was only days ago I was basking in the feeling of him flirting with me, but that was before I knew who he was. Now, I’m freaking out. I try to hide the fear I’m feeling, but my voice trembles when I say, “I don’t think so, Roger.”
He grins, his mouth quirking to one side. “I can se
e how nervous you are. You don’t have to be.”
“You have me backed against a building,” I point out as my chest heaves heavy breaths.
His dark eyes rove over me before meeting my gaze again. “You are a beautiful woman, Char,” he says, quietly.
“Please back away from me, Roger,” I ask calmly.
“Sure,” he agrees after a brief pause. “But first . . .” he leans in and presses his lips to mine. His beard scratches my face and I pinch my mouth shut tightly as his tongue attempts to thrust in to my mouth. My hands are on his arms, pushing him as hard as I can, but he’s not budging.
“Motherfucker!” Ike shouts, and Roger is torn away from me. How the hell did that happen? When I look down, Roger is quickly jumping to his feet and glaring. Then someone tackles him and they both tumble to the ground. My mind spins as I realize it wasn’t Ike that yelled at him . . . it was George. He straddles Roger and begins pounding his fist to his face. Roger flails and tries to roll away but George is moving too fast.
“George,” I yell, and move toward them, but Ike morphs in front of me.
“Don’t go near them,” he warns. Suddenly, Sniper is there peeling George off of Roger. Roger’s face is covered in blood, but slowly, he manages to stand. Even though his face is mangled and bloody, he laughs as he wipes at his mouth.
“Doesn’t feel so good when someone touches what you deem as yours, does it, McDermott?”
Both men are breathing heavily as they stare at one another and Sniper remains between them. George’s shoulders are tensed, his arms hanging by his sides as if he’s poised to attack again. His gaze flickers to mine briefly before returning to Roger’s. “No. It doesn’t,” he finally says, some of the tension rolling off of him. Sniper holds a firm hand to George’s chest as George steps toward Roger.
“I owe you an apology,” he tells Roger, and my mouth drops open.
“Holy shit,” Anna whispers, and I realize for the first time that she’s there, and her arms are holding me. “Did he just apologize?”
“I was wrong to see her. I knew she was taken. I’m sorry,” George says. Roger’s mouth tightens, and the two stare at one another for a long moment.
