Broken Promises - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 8)

by Terri Reid

Ian leaned back in his chair and took the last bite of cookie. “If not, I’m sure there will be plenty of television opportunities in your future,” he said. “Think of all the weird talk shows you’ll be invited to be on.”

  Shaking her head, Mary laughed. “No thank you,” she said. “I really don’t want that kind of publicity.”

  “Come on now,” Ian teased. “I thought that any publicity is good publicity, as long as they spell your name right.”

  Mary picked up a pillow and tossed it at him. “Thanks a lot!”

  Ian tossed it back. “Anytime.”

  “How did your sleeping arrangements work last night?” Rosie asked.

  Bradley cleared his throat a little. “Well, they were fine, just fine,” he said.

  “Iffen you don’t mind sleeping with crazy rock and roll music,” Stanley grumbled. “They had it playing to all hours of the morning.”

  “It was either that or not sleeping at all,” Ian retorted. “Your snoring was loud enough to wake the dead.”

  Looking up at Bradley, Mary smiled. “And how did you sleep?”

  “Like a baby,” Bradley admitted, “once I turned my music on, put my earplugs in and put my head under my pillow.”

  “You had earplugs?” Ian accused. “And you didn’t share?”

  Bradley shrugged. “Only one pair, sorry.”

  Ian stood up. “Well, if they worked, I think I’ll swing by the store this evening before we call it a night,” he said, turning to Stanley. “Anything you need while I’m there?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a quart of ice cream,” he said. “Rocky Road. It helps me sleep.”

  Ian nodded. “Rocky Road it is. Bradley, anything I can pick up for you?”

  “No, but I might tag along and get a couple things for breakfast,” he said.

  He turned and gave Mary a quick kiss. “Mind if we leave a little early?”

  “No, actually, Rosie and I have a project we’re working on,” she explained. “And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get an early start.”

  “Stanley, do you want to come along?” Bradley asked. “Or do you just want the keys to my place?”

  Stanley stood up and walked over to Rosie, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I think I’ll stop by my place afore the night gets too late,” he said. “I’ll pick up a couple of things for tomorrow. I’ll meet you both later.”

  Ian nodded. “Okay, then, Rocky Road for you,” he said. “Good night, ladies.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Stanley entered his home cautiously. He only turned on the lamp in the living room, leaving the rest of the house in shadows. He had walked through the house so many times in the dark, he knew his way without light. He stopped in the middle of the living room, trying to read the atmosphere of the house. Even though he had seen a ghost, he didn’t have a bad feeling when he entered his home. He felt a little uneasy, but he chalked that up to experiencing something new, rather than something evil.

  “Verda,” he called out softly. “I’m back. I’ve been trying for the life of me to remember what you want, I just can’t.”

  He moved through the house, into the hall and finally into his bedroom. He turned on the bedside lamp, which cast a soft glow throughout the room. “Iffen it’s so important, can you give me a clue somehow?” he asked. “I’m a little older than I was when we were last together. My memory wasn’t great then, it’s worse nowadays.”

  He opened his drawers and pulled out some clean clothing for the next couple of days and packed them inside an overnight case. “Maybe you’re wondering why I’m sleeping at Bradley’s,” he muttered. “I guess I was spooked seeing you those first couple times. Guess it was easier to run away, than figure out what you wanted.”

  He put his bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. “You know, I think you’d like Rosie,” he said. “She’s kind of a no-nonsense gal like you. She don’t let me get away with much. She’s even making me clean my office afore we get hitched on Friday.”

  Yawning, he stretched his arms and laid back on the bed, his feet still on the floor. “Don’t know why I ain’t sleeping here,” he muttered. “I miss this old bed. It creaks like I do.”

  He grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and stuffed it behind his head. “Maybe I’ll just relax for a few minutes,” he said. “They ain’t gonna be done with their shopping for a while, anyways.”

  In a few moments, Stanley was asleep on the bed and snoring was filling the room. The streetlight cast a soft shadow through the curtains into the room, across the carpet, on the corner of the bed, on the bottom of the dresser and on the ghost standing next to the bed watching over the sleeping man.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  He was back in the hospital, he realized, as he walked down the halls that had become so familiar to him when Verda was sick. He knew the nurses by name, remembered each one of the paintings that hung on the wall and was familiar with the codes used by the operator to broadcast urgent information in a calm and friendly manner, so the residents and visitors weren’t unduly alarmed.

  Walking up the muted rose-colored hallways, he turned the corner at the nurse’s station and walked to the left. Verda’s room was 314. Funny, he thought, even after so many years, I still remember her room number.

  The door was slightly ajar, as usual, because Verda didn’t like being alone, especially as she got weaker. She wanted to be sure someone could hear her if she had to call for help. He slipped through the doorway and stood silently for a moment, watching his wife in her hospital bed. The pillow seemed too big for her head, her body too tiny and frail for the bed. The machines and tubes that surrounded her more animated than she was. He cursed silently, she was shrinking away in front of his eyes and there was nothing he could do about it.

  “Stanley,” Verda called out weakly. “Is that you?”

  He took a deep breath and pasted a smile on his face. “Hey, sweetheart, how are you doing this morning?” he asked as he strolled into the room.

  He moved up to the side of the bed, took her tiny hand is his and leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. “I thought I’d steal you away from here and we could go on a picnic,” he said.

  She smiled up at him. “Oh, that would be lovely,” she said, her voice thin and frail. “Where should we go?”

  He stroked her hand gently. “Well, I was thinking we could drive up to Wisconsin,” he suggested. “How about Devil’s Lake? I could rent a boat and we could spend the afternoon paddling around under the trees.”

  “Then we could take a hike up on the bluffs,” she added. “I love hiking on the bluffs.”

  He nodded and lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. He willed back the tears that were threatening to spill into his eyes. “And we could watch the sunset from up there,” he said. “I could bring your favorite picnic blanket in case it got cold.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed. “I do seem to get cold lately,” she admitted. “I think my blood might have thinned down a mite.”

  “Well, you need to eat a little more and put some meat on your bones,” he said, trying to be a little gruff because she would expect it. “You already got a cute, little girly figure, you don’t need to get any thinner.”

  Laughing, she weakly pulled their clasped hands to her face and rested her cheek on them. “Do you really think I still have a cute girly figure?” she asked.

  “Always,” he agreed immediately.

  Looking out into the room, she sighed. “Do you remember our first date?”

  “Best day of my life,” he said. “How could I forget?”

  “You were so handsome in your uniform,” she said. “My heart just fluttered at the sight of you.”

  “I saw you and my eyes popped out and my jaw dropped,” he said. “I didn’t know they let angels walk around on the earth.”

  There was silence between them for a few moments until finally she turned to him. “Stanley, I think this angel is going to be going up to heaven soon,” she whispered.r />
  He shook his head. “No,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “No, you’re going to get better. We’re going to have a lot of years ahead of us.”

  She loosened her hold on his hand and lifted it, so she could stroke his face. “I love you,” she said with a gentle smile. “But we have to face reality.”

  He turned his face and kissed her hand urgently. “No, no we don’t,” he said, his voice breaking. “We hit harder times than this, and we’ve gotten through them, together. We’ll get through this together too.”

  “It would be easier for me if you would just accept it,” she said.

  Shaking his head, tears flowing freely down his face, he whispered. “I don’t want to make it easy. I want you to fight every step of the way.”

  “I’ve been fighting,” she sighed. “And I’m so tired now. I’m just so tired.”

  He wiped his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. “I know you have,” he said, immediately contrite. “I’m sorry. I’m being selfish. I just…I just can’t let you go.”

  “You’re not letting me go,” she said. “You’re just saying good-bye for a little while. We’ll be together again. But I want you to promise me something.”

  He nodded. “Anything.”

  She waited until he looked at her, met her eyes. She wanted to be sure she saw the promise in his eyes. “I want you to keep living,” she said. “I want you to laugh again. I want you to hike at Devil’s Lake without me. And I want you to fall in love again.”

  He shook his head. “No, I can’t promise you that,” he said. “You will be taking my heart with you. I’ve had enough love in my life. I don’t…”

  “Stanley,” she interrupted, “I know you. You need a good woman by your side. Someone who will love you and take care of you and boss you around a little too.”

  “But…” he began.

  “No, buts,” she said. “You can mourn for me, for a little while, but when the time is right, I want you to love again.”

  “I’ll try,” he said. “I promise I’ll try.”

  She nodded. “That’s enough. And I want you to tell her about me, show her the family photo album. I want to be friends with her when we meet someday. Promise?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Verda, I promise. I’ll tell her all about you.”

  She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment, her body exhausted. He watched her, his heart dropping, this couldn’t be it. He wasn’t ready to say good-bye. He leaned forward. “Verda?”

  Her eyes opened slowly and she smiled softly. Then her eyes opened wider. “Oh, and one more thing,” she said. “Don’t forget…”

  Then she wasn’t saying words any longer, she was beeping, like his cell phone.

  “Verda, what is it?” he said, the cell ringing over and over. “Tell me.”

  Stanley opened his eyes; the cell phone in his pocket was still ringing. He reached down and answered. “Hello,” he said wearily.

  “Stanley, it’s Bradley. Are you okay? We’ve been waiting for you for about an hour.”

  Stanley looked at the clock on the nightstand. He’d been asleep for over an hour.

  “Sorry, Bradley,” he said. “Guess I fell asleep here at the house. I think I’ll stay here tonight.”

  “Are you sure, we can come over…”

  “No, I’m sure,” he said. “I need to be here tonight. Good-night.”

  “Good-night Stanley.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “Are you sure you want to do this tonight?” Mary asked as she and Rosie walked up steps to Rosie’s home.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she said with a decisive nod, gripping her keys tightly in her hand. “I’m actually surer than I was last night.”

  She turned to Mary with an excited smile. “We actually had him on the run last night,” she said. “He was afraid of us.”

  “Yes, but tonight could be different,” Mary warned. “Last night we had the element of surprise on our side. Tonight, he’s probably expecting us.”

  Rosie paused before inserting the key into the lock. “Expecting us? What do you mean?”

  Mary leaned on the wall, next to the door and met Rosie’s eyes. “Last night we frightened him. He wasn’t expecting us to act the way we did,” she explained. “It seems that he is all about intimidation and fear. Tonight he won’t have those weapons, at least not the way he’s had them in the past. So, we don’t know what’s going to happen tonight.”

  “Do you want to go home, Mary?”

  Mary shook her head. “I want to do whatever you want to do, Rosie. But, I want you to understand this might not be a cakewalk.”

  Rosie looked down at the key in her hand. It would be so much easier to turn around and go back to the safety of Mary’s house. Mary and Ian could come back to her house when she and Stanley were on their honeymoon and get rid of the ghosts. It would be so much easier to just walk away.

  She thrust the key into the lock and shook her head. She’d done easier before, she’d run away before, she was not running away ever again. “Mary, I want to do this,” she said, her determination evident in her eyes.

  Nodding, Mary stood up and moved next to her. “Okay, then, let’s do this.”

  The door opened quietly and the two women slipped inside. Rosie didn’t bother turning on the light this time, there was enough filtered light from the streetlamps to see their way through the house. She walked directly to the bedroom, Mary hurrying behind her, and threw open the closet door.

  “Okay, out with it,” she yelled. “I’m not playing any games tonight.”

  Mary felt the atmosphere of the room change immediately and she pulled Rosie back a few steps. “Release the Kraken,” Mary whispered ironically and waited to see just what was going to spew forth from the closet.

  Darkness fell over the room, like a dark cloud had covered the little light available. The air became thicker and almost hard to breathe and it was charged with a tension that caused their hearts to race.

  “Mary, what’s happening?” Rosie whispered, clutching her friend’s arm.

  Mary took a deep breath and wrapped her arm around Rosie’s waist. “I think we’re about to find out.”

  Small tendrils of black slid from the inside of the closet and wrapped their way around the door frame and up the side of the walls. They sprouted more tendrils and pushed on throughout the wall. Soon the area was covered with a moving, squirming mass of darkness that continued to spread.

  Rosie gasped and put her hand to her throat. “They’re surrounding us,” she said in a whispered panic. “They are going to wind themselves around us and strangle us to death.”

  Mary looked around the room, studying the moving mass. “Yeah, that could happen,” she said casually. “But, really, they’re kind of puny vines.”

  She took a step toward the wall.

  “Stop!” Rosie screamed, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. “They’ll kill you, Mary, they’ll kill you.”

  “Rosie, they won’t kill me,” she said, turning back to her friend.

  “Yes, they will,” Rosie cried.

  One look at her face convinced Mary that these vines represented something much more sinister to Rosie. Her eyes were wide with fear, her skin was pale and she was shaking. “Please Mary, I don’t want you to die,” she pleaded.

  “Did you ever see these vines kill something, Rosie?” she asked, her voice calm.

  Rosie nodded slowly and when she spoke, her voice seemed younger, like a child. “My kitty,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears as she looked around the room at the growing vines. “The kudzu killed my little kitty.”

  Mary put her hands on Rosie’s shoulders and moved close enough to block her view of the room. “Rosie, look at me,” she said, “and pay attention.”

  Rosie’s eyes snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am,” she responded politely.

  “Who told you the vines killed your kitty?”

  “Daddy,” she said, her voice breaking. “I found my
kitty in the backyard; it was stiff and cold and covered with kudzu. Daddy said the kudzu came out and grabbed my kitty and strangled the life out of it.”

  “What else did he tell you?” Mary asked, trying her best to keep the rage she felt towards Rosie’s father to herself.

  “He told me if I didn’t do what he wanted, he would leave my closet door open and the kudzu would get in and kill me too,” she said.

  Mary remembered Rosie telling her about the abuse she suffered as a child and she realized it was far worse than she had thought.

  “Rosie. Are you paying attention to me?” she asked.

  Nodding, Rosie looked up into her face. Gone was the confident, self-assured woman and in her place was the child who had been manipulated by a sick, evil parent. Maybe she wasn’t ready to face this yet. She looked around the room. The kudzu had now covered all of the furniture and most of the walls. Only the wall that held the doorway was clear. She took Rosie by the hand and led her from the room.

  As if she had been in a dream, Rosie shook her head and looked around. “Mary, why aren’t we in my bedroom?” she asked.

  “Tell me about your kitten,” Mary insisted gently.

  “My kitten?” Rosie asked, a little confused.

  “The kitten that died in the kudzu.”

  “Oh, that kitten,” Rosie said sadly. “I haven’t thought about her in years.”

  “You need to think about her now,” Mary said. “You need to remember as much as you can about that time in your life.”

  Rosie nodded, then closed her eyes and thought about it for a moment. “My mother and I had gone away for a few days,” she said, biting her lip as she tried to remember all the details. “My mother was hurt, her face was bruised. She must have fallen…”

  Looking up at Mary, Rosie shook her head. “He hit her,” she said, as she finally realized what had happened to her mother. “He beat my mother. She didn’t fall down. Ever. He beat her.”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, he probably did,” she agreed. “Men like your father are bullies and like to pick on people and animals who are weaker than they are. It gives them a perverted sense of power.”