“Maybe I’m crabby in the morning,” I said, snatching a piece of bacon and biting into it before Winnie could stop me.
“We’re all crabby this morning,” Bay said, reaching for my slice of bacon. Without thinking, I pulled it away from her, earning a harsh look.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “This is my bacon, though. You can have your own slice .”
Winnie frowned and handed her daughter two slices of bacon to spite me. “What happened to you?” she asked. “You used to be such a nice boy.”
“I’m still a nice boy,” I said, debating whether I could snag one of Bay’s slices without her pitching a fit. “I’m sore from sleeping on the ground all night and I have a monster headache.”
“The coffee pot is over there,” Winnie said, gesturing to the far side of the kitchen. “You’re not getting any more bacon until you’re seated in the dining room.”
Bay studied my face for a moment and then handed me her second slice of bacon. “You owe me.”
“I’ll buy you a car,” I said, kissing her cheek.
“I don’t want a car.”
“What do you want?” I was pretty much willing to give her the moon at this point. I only needed to figure out a way to catch it for her.
“I want to spend the week in Traverse City with you.”
I choked on the bacon, surprised. I glanced at Marcus, worried for a moment that he’d told her what I’d been considering, but he looked as surprised as I was. “You want to spend the week with me in Traverse City?” I was stalling for time, unsure how to answer.
“Is that a problem?” Bay arched an eyebrow, but other than that, her face was unreadable.
“No,” I said. “I just … you’re going to have to drive back here every day. Is that something you want to do?”
“I don’t have to drive back here every day,” she said. “I only have to drive back on Wednesday and Friday.”
“And I’ll be coming back on Friday,” I said. “You really want to stay in that small apartment with me?”
Everyone watched our conversation with a mixture of amusement and consternation. The consternation came mostly from Winnie, who wasn’t a big fan of shacking up. She’d been trying to rein in her discomfort about our living situation for the past few months, though, so she was keeping her mouth shut. For now.
Bay opened her mouth to answer and then snapped it shut. Her eyes clouded briefly, and I could see her mind working. Unfortunately, I couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.
“I don’t need to come to Traverse City,” Bay said. “That was a stupid idea.”
“It wasn’t a stupid idea,” I said. “I’m just worried that being cooped up in that small apartment while I’m at work … no cousins to amuse you when you get bored … is going to drive you crazy.”
“Are you sure that’s the reason?”
What other reason would there be? “I’m sure. If you want to come to Traverse City for the week I’d be happy to have you with me.”
“She can’t go,” Winnie said, squaring her shoulders.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because she has work,” Winnie said, averting her gaze.
“You just heard her say that she can do most of that work from my place,” I said. “Traverse City is only an hour away. If she needs to come back, she can come back.”
“What if her cousins need her?” Winnie wasn’t giving up. Not yet, at least.
“She has her phone,” I said, keeping my voice calm. Winnie getting used to Bay spending more time away from the inn could only help my future plans. I decided to dig my heels in. “If Thistle and Clove need something, they have Marcus and Sam to help. They have all of you … and Aunt Tillie.”
“Aunt Tillie won’t help us,” Thistle said.
“She’ll just point and laugh,” Clove agreed.
I pressed my lips together and shot Thistle a dark look. “Really?”
“We’ll be fine,” Thistle said, giving in. “It might be nice to have one less body in the guesthouse this week. It’s starting to feel claustrophobic.”
That was an understatement. I turned back to Winnie. “Is there another reason Bay can’t stay at my place this week? She is an adult, after all.”
“Wait, you really want me to stay with you?” Bay’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought maybe you were just saying that and you didn’t want me in your space.”
“I have no problem sharing my space,” I said. “I was surprised you suggested it. I would love to have you in Traverse City for the week. We can go out to the movies, and maybe go for a walk on the beach. It will be nice spending time together.”
“You’re spending the whole week together,” Winnie said, wringing her hands. “What if she gets lonely?”
I tilted my head to the side as I regarded Winnie. She looked as if I’d suggested Bay throw herself into a volcano instead of staying an hour away for five days. “What if we come back for dinner Wednesday night?”
“That’s not necessary,” Bay said. “I’m old enough to spend a week away from home. I spent years away from home, in case you’ve forgotten.”
I held up my hand to quiet her, realization washing over me. Winnie lost Bay once before when her daughter moved away to find herself. When she returned, the family was made whole again. Winnie worried I would steal Bay away. “It’s only an hour away,” I said. “Instead of us coming here for dinner on Wednesday, why don’t you come to Traverse City for dinner on Tuesday. Tuesday is a quiet night for the inn, right?” I looked to Marnie and Twila for confirmation. They both nodded, but their eyes were fixed on Winnie. “It’s really going to be okay,” I said. “You’ll see.”
Winnie finally nodded. “Fine. I get to pick the restaurant, though.”
“I can live with that,” I said.
Sensing the crisis had passed, Marnie and Twila returned to their breakfast preparations. After a few moments, Twila left the kitchen and moved into the back of the house. When she returned a few minutes later, she had a puzzled look on her face. “Aunt Tillie isn’t in her room.”
“She’s in the woods,” Thistle said. “She’s the one who woke us up.”
“But what about breakfast?” Marnie asked.
“She said she already ate,” Clove said.
Twila didn’t look convinced.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“I guess nothing,” Twila said. “I was worried she was missing because of the ghost on the back porch.”
Seven
“What ghost?” I asked, instantly alert.
“There’s a ghost on the back porch,” Twila said.
“Who?” Bay asked. “Did you recognize her?”
“The sun is so bright back there,” Twila said, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. “I didn’t get a good look.”
“She means she was afraid to look,” Thistle said, pushing away from the counter and heading for the door. “She’s afraid of ghosts.”
“I am not afraid of ghosts,” Twila said. “I just think they’re … freaky. I’m glad I only see them on rare occasions.”
“That’s the same as being afraid,” Thistle said. “Come on. I’ll bet it’s Peg Mulder.”
I followed the line of excited witches – and a mostly “meh” Marcus and Sam – until we stood by the big bay windows at the back of the living quarters. The porch looked empty to me. Of course, I’d seen only one ghost in my life – and that was because Bay’s life had been in danger. I wasn’t really expecting to see another one now. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a ghost out there,” Bay said. “It looks like the photo of Peg Mulder, but Twila is right about her being … blurry.”
“Blurry?” That didn’t sound good.
“Blurry isn’t the right word,” Bay said, her face thoughtful as she stared out the window. “She’s … brighter … than a normal ghost.”
“That must be because we pulled her over from the other side,” Thistle said. “That could exp
lain why she looks different.”
“Does that mean she’s an angel?” Marcus asked, awed.
I wanted to laugh at the question, but given the surreal nature of the conversation, that didn’t seem wise. Besides … . “Is that a possibility?”
“Are you asking me to comment on the nature of life and death?” Bay asked. “If you are, I don’t have any answers for you. I don’t know what happens when you cross over.”
“I’ll bet the woman on the porch does,” I suggested.
Bay worried her bottom lip with her teeth, conflicted. “We called her here to ask how she died,” she said. “We now know she really is dead. I don’t feel comfortable asking about … other things.”
Sometimes I forget how sensitive she is. I brushed Bay’s hair, smoothing it. “You don’t have to ask her anything you’re not comfortable with,” I said. “Just ask her whether she knows how she died and … well … where her body is.”
Bay nodded, her face lightening considerably. “Okay.”
“Screw that,” Thistle said, pushing between us. “I want to know what’s on the other side. Let’s go.”
“YOU don’t have to hide,” Bay said, peering around the tree on the corner of the lot worriedly. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
It turns out Peg Mulder hadn’t been waiting for us on the back porch. In fact, when we all slipped outside of the inn, she’d run. Wait, do ghosts run? She probably floated. That sounds more likely.
After ten minutes, Winnie, Marnie and Twila excused themselves to serve breakfast to the inn guests. I knew they were eating all my bacon.
“Why don’t you guys go inside and have breakfast,” Bay suggested. “This might take a little time.”
My stomach agreed with her. My heart put up a fantastic fight. “No,” I said. “I’m staying with you. The rest of you can go inside.”
Bay’s face was conflicted. “You’re starving. What about your bacon?”
“I’d rather have you than the bacon,” I replied. “I’m not leaving you alone with an unknown entity – even if I can’t see it.”
“She’s not Floyd,” Bay said, referring to a nasty poltergeist from a few months before. “She won’t hurt me.”
“She won’t,” I agreed. “I’m still staying here.”
“Make sure you ask her about the other side,” Thistle instructed, letting Marcus drag her toward the door. “I need to know what’s out there.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” I said. “You’re going to go to the bad place.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say,” Thistle snapped.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have Aunt Tillie for company.” I shot her a cheeky smile. “Save me some bacon.”
“I’m eating it all now because you made that little comment,” Thistle replied. “Every last slice.”
“Enjoy your major coronary,” I said.
Thistle extended her tongue and blew an inelegant raspberry before disappearing with Marcus, Sam and Clove. When they were gone, I turned back to Bay. “We’re going to have to go to town for breakfast. I feel cheated.”
“Go eat,” Bay said. “It’s right inside. There’s no reason to suffer.”
“Come with me,” I said, knowing what her answer would be.
“I can’t just leave her,” Bay said. “We’re the reason she’s here. We’re the reason she’s so unsettled. We’re the reason she’s so … traumatized.”
My heart rolled. She was so earnest sometimes. “Then we’re staying here together,” I said. “I can wait until we go into town. I’m not going to die of starvation.” My stomach growled a complaint, but I was far enough from Bay she didn’t hear it. “Maybe we should sit still and let her come to us. Isn’t that what you do when you find a stray animal?”
“She’s not a dog,” Bay said.
“I didn’t say she was,” I replied, grabbing a lawn chair and turning it so it faced the tree. I did the same with another and then settled into the first one. “I think you following her around the tree like you’re playing a really creepy game of tag isn’t the way to go.”
Bay made a face but she reluctantly left Peg to … whatever it was she was doing … and joined me. I reached over and grabbed her hand, rubbing my thumb over her knuckles as she studied something only she could see.
I often wondered what it was like to be her. I’m not interested in the petty cousin business, or the co-dependent family spats, or even the highs and lows of running a weekly newspaper. Seeing ghosts, though, that was something I couldn’t wrap my mind around. Sure, I’d seen one myself, but I’d been so worried about Bay at the time I couldn’t think about it. Now, when I look back, it was one of those fuzzy memories wrapped around a traumatic event. The traumatic event – almost losing Bay – got top billing.
“What are you thinking?” I finally broke the silence, mostly because Bay’s expression tugged at my heart. She looked worried.
“What if we can’t get her back?”
“What?”
“What if we can’t get her back?” Bay turned to me. “What if we ripped her out of a happy place? What if … ?”
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I said, gripping her hand tighter. “We’ll get her back.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you don’t fail,” I said simply. “We’ll figure it out. Don’t tie yourself into knots about something that we haven’t even tried yet. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer.”
“I’m not tying myself into knots.”
I smirked. “You’re a worrier,” I said. “It’s in your nature. I think it’s because you’re the oldest.”
“I’m an only child,” Bay reminded me.
“You may have been born an only child, but you grew up to be the big sister,” I said. “You’re as close – closer maybe – to Thistle and Clove as any siblings. Don’t deny it.”
“I love them,” Bay said. “I would never deny it.”
“But?”
“But sometimes I want to gag them both and lock them in their rooms.”
I brought her hand up to my mouth and brushed a light kiss against her palm. “That’s also part of being the big sister.”
“Do you feel that way about your brothers?”
“I love my brothers,” I said. “I also think it’s best we only spend a limited amount of time together. If we spend too much time together, I want to wrestle them down and give them wedgies. That’s probably why you, Clove and Thistle are always arguing.”
“I thought you said that was estrogen?”
I was still debating that point. “Maybe it’s both.”
Bay’s face split with a wide grin, and even with her morning-tousled hair, she was utterly charming to look at. “Thistle was right. You can’t be wrong.”
Her charm comes and goes. “It’s not that I can’t be wrong,” I said. “I’m rarely wrong.”
“I stand corrected.”
I leaned forward and brushed her hair out of her face with my free hand. “Are you excited to come and stay with me this week?”
“I honestly didn’t think you would agree when I suggested it,” she said. “You surprised me.”
“Why?”
“Because you always come here,” Bay said, shrugging. “I thought you liked your own personal space.”
“You’ve been to my apartment before,” I reminded her. “You’ve spent the night.”
“Yeah, but … .”
I waited.
“Aren’t you worried that I’m going to infringe on your bachelor pad?”
I swear, it’s never what you think it is when you’re dealing with women. “My bachelor pad? Sweetie, that place is just an apartment to me. It’s not a home. It’s two bedrooms and some particleboard furniture. I don’t even have matching plates.”
“Is that why you always want to spend the weekends here?”
“This place is a home, Bay,” I said. “The guesthouse is small and loud, but it’s comfortable. The inn is big and home
y. You guys fight, but you love, too. This place is more fun.”
“I don’t have to go with you,” Bay said. “I … if you’d rather come back here next weekend, I’m fine with that.”
“We’re coming back here for the weekend,” I replied, matter-of-fact. “We’re still spending the week together at my apartment. We’ll just have to go out to dinner every night, because neither one of us can cook.”
“I told you I can cook,” Bay said, pouting.
“I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “There are some nice restaurants on the water. I’ll take you to a few of those … plus whatever restaurant your mother wants to go to. Besides that, my boss has been making noise about meeting you. This will be a good way to get it over with.”
“Your boss wants to meet me?” Bay looked surprised. “How does he even know about me?”
“He knows I come here every weekend,” I said. “There’s also a photo of us on my desk.”
Bay’s cheeks colored. “There is?”
“Good grief, woman,” I said. “You’re like an insecure teenager sometimes. Of course there’s a photo of us on my desk. I like to look at you. You have a photo of us on your desk, too. I’ve seen it.”
“That’s different,” Bay said, ever pragmatic. “I’m a girl. That’s what girls do.”
“I guess I’m a girl then,” I said, nonplussed. “Let it go.”
Bay pursed her lips, shooting a look in my direction out of the corner of her eye. I could feel her internally mocking me.
“I know what you’re doing,” I said. “You’re being all … girly.”
“I am not,” Bay said, squaring her shoulders. “I’m just … .”
The sound of gunfire cut off the rest of her sentence and shattered the morning serenity. I jumped to my feet, scanning the woods for a sense of direction. Another shot exploded, and I instinctively reached for Bay so I could shelter her with my body. She fought my attempts.
“No one is shooting at us,” she said, slapping my hand away. “The shots are too far away.”
“Can you tell where they’re coming from?”
On a Witch and a Prayer: A Wicked Witches of the Midwest Short Page 6
