“When are you going back to Texas?” MacDonald glanced around the room. There were two hospital beds. One was empty.
“I have a flight late tomorrow afternoon. I’m picking up Stephanie’s ashes in the morning and taking them with me.” He glanced to his would-be son-in-law and smiled. “I was trying to convince Clint to come home with me.”
A few more words were exchanged before Barry said his final goodbye and left the hospital room. Just as he stepped into the hallway, a nurse wheeled a new patient into the room, heading for the empty hospital bed.
“You have a roomie, Mr. Marlow,” the nurse said cheerfully. “This is Mr. Carter. Mr. Carter, this is Mr. Marlow.” The strawberry blond man in the wheelchair wore a hospital gown and looked to be in his forties. The two patients exchanged a brief hello before Mr. Marlow turned his attention back to the chief, and Mr. Carter started asking his nurse questions.
With a nod to the door, MacDonald said, “He seems like a nice man.”
“Barry? Yes, he does. So tell me, do I know you?”
Mr. Carter stopped talking and looked over to his roommate’s bed.
MacDonald stepped closer to the hospital bed, hoping for an element of privacy. The next moment the nurse said her goodbyes and left the room. Her absence allowed Mr. Carter to focus his entire attention on what was being said at the next bed. His curiosity was not lost on the two other men in the room.
“As for your question, yes, we’ve met before. I’m Edward MacDonald. I’m the Frederickport police chief.”
“Please don’t tell me I have a problem with the law.” He smiled when asking the question.
“Not that I’m aware of.” The chief smiled back. “Can you remember anything more?”
“No. They said my name is Walter, but Barry told me I go by Clint. I don’t really feel like a Walter. But frankly, I don’t feel like a Clint either. So please, you can call me Walt.”
The chief perked up. “Walt?”
“Yes. Walter is my first name, after all. But Walt doesn’t sound as formal. Don’t you think?”
“Okay, Walt it is.”
“So tell me, how do we know each other?” Walt asked.
“I’m a good friend of Danielle Boatman,” the chief told him.
“Danielle Boatman? Who is that?”
“She owns Marlow House Bed and Breakfast.”
“Interesting. They tell me my last name is Marlow. Am I connected to the bed and breakfast in any way?”
“It once belonged to your distant cousin, Walt Marlow.”
“Really? Same name. How interesting.” Walt smiled.
“Before your accident, you had been staying at the bed and breakfast.”
“Really? You know, the hospital tells me I can leave tomorrow or the next day—yet they’re a little reluctant to let me just walk out of here since I seem to be suffering from some sort of amnesia brought on by the accident.” He then paused a moment and looked down at his cast and chuckled. “Although I doubt I’m going to do any actual walking for a while. That’s why Barry wanted me to go with him. A generous offer, but he’s a stranger to me. I think it would be better for me to leave the hospital and go somewhere familiar—like this inn you say I was staying at. It might help me get my memory back.”
The chief arched his brow. “You want to stay at Marlow House?”
“If there is a vacancy. Do you think there’s a vacancy? It really would be the perfect solution for me.”
“Umm…how about I have Danielle Boatman come see you? You can discuss it with her.”
“Danielle Boatman? She’s the one who owns Marlow House?” Walt smiled.
The chief nodded. “Yes. I’ll talk to her about it.”
“Why, thank you, Chief MacDonald. I really appreciate your help.”
“My name’s Bud,” Walt’s roommate blurted after the chief said his final goodbyes and left the room.
“Hello, Bud, nice to meet you. I’m Walt.”
“Do you have amnesia or something?”
Walt smiled. “It appears that way.”
“You don’t seem that upset about it.”
Walt shrugged. “What’s to be upset about? I’m alive, aren’t I?”
“I suppose,” Bud muttered. “You really stayed at Marlow House?”
“That’s what they tell me.”
“Dang, I wish you didn’t have amnesia. I’d love to hear what it’s really like there. I heard you say you wanted to stay there again, but you might want to reconsider that and stay someplace else. The Seahorse Motel is nice.”
“What’s wrong with Marlow House?”
“I heard it was haunted,” Bud told him.
“Haunted? By who?” Walt asked.
Bud shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just know a lot of people have died in that place. You were lucky to get out alive. I sure wouldn’t go back if I were you.”
Forty
Outside, the sun was setting. Danielle was inside, alone in the parlor. The house felt so empty. The chief had promised to call and let her know what was going on with Walt, yet she hadn’t heard from him yet. She didn’t believe calling the hospital was an option, certain they wouldn’t tell her anything.
Debating if she should go into the kitchen and make herself a peanut butter sandwich or skip dinner altogether, she heard the doorbell ring. Standing up from the sofa, she walked to the window and peeked outside. Chris stood by the door with a brown paper sack in one hand and a pizza box in the other, his back to her. Danielle smiled.
“Did you bring dinner?” Danielle asked when she opened the door a few minutes later.
“I figured you might need some nourishment,” Chris said as he walked into the entry and headed for the living room. Danielle closed the door and followed Chris.
They sat together on the sofa while Chris set the pizza box and sack on the coffee table.
“How did you know I hadn’t had dinner yet?” Danielle asked as she opened the paper sack he had brought and pulled out two sodas and two napkins. She set the sodas on the coasters already sitting on the table and started to hand a napkin to Chris, yet paused, waiting while he opened the pizza box.
“Just a hunch.” He accepted the napkin, set a slice of pizza on it, and then handed it back to Danielle, taking the other napkin from her.
“Pizza actually sounds pretty good,” Danielle said as she leaned back on the sofa and took a bite.
Holding a napkin with a slice of pizza, Chris glanced around the room.
“Something wrong?” Danielle asked.
“It really does feel different in here. Strange not having Walt pop in and make some sarcastic crack to me.”
“You have no idea,” Danielle mumbled before taking another bite.
Chris turned on the sofa and faced Danielle, his uneaten pizza slice still in his hand. “How are you doing?”
“I’ve never been fond of living in limbo, and that’s what this feels like. Ironically, that’s sort of where Walt has been since his death—in limbo. I know he needed to do this, try this chance or move on. I suppose it was time, but it doesn’t make it easier.”
“You sound like he isn’t coming back.” Chris took his first bite while watching Danielle, waiting for her reply.
She shrugged. “The chief told me he has amnesia. I just find it hard to believe Walt would have amnesia. I know Tagg didn’t when he took over Kent’s body. But Kent did after he reclaimed it. Which makes me think maybe Clint changed his mind. And I can understand that. I can’t fault him if he chose to stay and give life another try.”
“Danielle, Kent didn’t have amnesia when he returned to his body—he forgot things later. After he had settled back in. That’s not what’s happening here. Plus, if I was in Walt’s position, when I woke up, I’d tell everyone I had amnesia too.”
Danielle frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Seriously? Think about it. If Walt wakes up in Clint’s body, he’ll know very little about Clint’s life—about the people Clint knew. A
prime example is Stephanie’s father. He didn’t know who he was. Far easier for Walt to come out and claim to have amnesia so no one will expect him to know anything about Clint’s life. Just makes sense. I’m surprised you didn’t consider that.”
Setting her napkin and pizza on the table, Danielle rubbed the heel of her right hand against her forehead and shook her head. “You’re right. I’m not thinking straight. All this happened so fast. But you are right; Walt claiming to have amnesia makes sense.”
“Of course, it’s also a tactic Clint might use if he wants you to take him in and believe he’s Walt.”
Danielle groaned and slumped back on the sofa. “You’re killing me, Chris!”
“Sorry, kid. But I’m trying to look at it from all angles. Fact is, you don’t know anything right now. It could go either way.”
The doorbell rang. Chris offered to get it. He left the living room and a moment later returned with the chief, Lily, and Ian.
“Aw, how sweet, Chris is cheering you up with pizza.” Lily said as she took a seat across from the sofa.
“More like making me crazy,” Danielle grumbled.
“We need to talk to you,” the chief announced.
Danielle looked from the chief to Ian, noting their serious expressions. She glanced back to Lily, who simply gave her a shrug.
“The hospital is letting him have visitors,” the chief told her.
“Since when?” she asked.
With a sheepish smile the chief said, “Late this afternoon our patient told the hospital he wanted to see visitors. That was before I went to see him.”
Danielle sat up straight. “Wait a minute…he could see visitors, and you went down to see him and didn’t tell me? You didn’t take me with you?”
“You knew I was going to see him,” the chief reminded her.
“Yeah, because we figured you could get in and I couldn’t. Before you went down there, did you know they had lifted the no-visitor restriction?” Danielle asked.
“The chief just wanted to get a feel for the situation before you went down there,” Ian interjected.
Danielle looked from the chief to Ian and then to Lily.
Lily shrugged. “I just found out about it fifteen minutes ago. It seems they’re trying to protect you. I suppose that’s sweet, but kind of annoying too.”
“Don’t you want to know what the chief found out?” Ian asked.
Danielle let out a sigh and looked back to the chief. “What did you find out? Is it Walt?”
“He claims he has amnesia. However, he wants to be called Walt. He told me neither Clint nor Walter felt right,” MacDonald told her.
Danielle groaned. “Amnesia? If he has amnesia, then how am I going to know for sure? He won’t remember anything.”
“The thing is, he may not have amnesia,” the chief said.
“What do you mean?” Danielle frowned. “You just said he claimed to. Why would he lie to you about it?”
“Clint would lie if he’s trying to get you to believe he’s Walt,” Chris noted.
“At this point, I’m not sure if it’s Clint or Walt. And if it is Walt, I wouldn’t have expected him to come out and tell me who he was when I was there earlier,” the chief said. “Because we weren’t alone in the hospital room. He has a roommate, one who seemed to be hanging on our every word. If it was Walt, he certainly couldn’t tell me, not with Mr. Nosey listening in. Making up an amnesia story makes sense,” MacDonald told her.
Danielle stood in the hallway outside Clint’s hospital room, mustering the courage to go inside. Taking a deep breath, Danielle stepped into the hospital room, forcing a smile, while her heart raced. In the farthest bed, the one by the window, a ginger-haired man with a ruddy complexion grinned in her direction.
In the bed closest to her was a familiar face. He smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling. They are Walt’s eyes, she thought. Yet then she remembered both the chief and Ian cautioning her—reminding her not to see things that weren’t there—things she wanted to be there and might imagine.
He was sitting up in bed, the top of his hospital gown in view. It seemed odd attire for the Walt she knew. Sticking out from the covers was his left leg wrapped in a cast. It was no longer elevated as it had been in the ICU. His hair wasn’t Walt’s; it was too spiky and trendy. But those eyes—they looked at her in the same way Walt had looked at her countless times.
She took a hesitant step in his direction, her smile wavering, her heart still pounding wildly.
“Danielle,” he said.
She wasn’t sure if it was a statement or question. She knew the chief had told him she would be coming.
“Do you remember me?” she asked impulsively.
His eyes darted momentarily to the man in the next bed and then back to Danielle. “Chief MacDonald said you might be coming.”
“How are you feeling?” She knew the other patient’s eyes were on her. He was listening, as he had been when the chief had visited earlier.
The man she wanted to be Walt put out his hand to her, as if extending a handshake in greeting. Danielle walked the rest of the way to the bed and accepted his hand. Instead of a handshake, he squeezed it gently and stared intently into her eyes. “Nice to meet you, Danielle Boatman. Please call me Walt.”
Someday it would sound corny to her ears, describing how it felt like a bolt of lightning surging through her body as his hand held hers, refusing to let go. But lightning she felt, and the lump growing in her throat made it virtually impossible to breathe. He continued to hold her hand, not letting go. She didn’t want him to.
Speechless, Danielle didn’t know what to say—part of her wanted to ask the question, is that you, Walt, is it really you? But the man in the bed next to them continued to watch and listen, blatantly eavesdropping without shame. It seemed as if minutes were ticking away—minutes of excruciating silence—when it was actually only a few seconds. Danielle was getting to the point where she no longer cared and was prepared to blurt the question when another voice joined the room.
“Buddy, when Sandy told me you were in the hospital, I just couldn’t believe it! Why didn’t you tell me you were having surgery?” The question came from a petite young woman who rushed into the hospital room, ignoring Danielle. She ran straight to Bud and threw her arms around him, a string of questions tumbling from her lips, one after another.
The man holding Danielle’s hand took the opportunity to jerk her toward him. She practically fell onto the bed, yet her feet managed to remain firmly on the floor. Her face was just inches from his, and she could feel his warm breath.
“He chose love over money, Danielle,” he whispered.
Danielle frowned. “What?”
“Clint, he chose love over money.” He smiled up into her face, his blue eyes twinkling.
Danielle swallowed nervously. She felt his hand squeeze hers tighter, not letting go.
“It was a calendar, Danielle. That’s what you showed me on the first day we met. You got it from your purse. The one you left so carelessly on my grandmother’s cherry wood table.” He smiled mischievously.
“Walt? It’s really you?” Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.
Still holding her hand, Walt glanced over to his roommate. The woman was now sitting on the bed with Bud. The two were busy talking; neither party was paying attention to him or Danielle.
Walt looked back into Danielle’s eyes. Pulling her hand to his lips, he quickly kissed it and then whispered, “I want to go home, Danielle. I want to go home with you.”
The Ghost of Second Chances
PreOrder Now
When Clint Marlow's partner in crime is found murdered in the basement of Marlow House, Clint is the likely suspect. The only problem, Clint is dead. But that doesn't matter to the FBI agents investigating the case. Clint looks alive to them.
* * *
Meanwhile, Danielle’s housemate Walt is coming to terms with his new reality, which is complicated with the FBI underfoot.
* * *
Fortunately for Walt, he still has a few paranormal tricks up his sleeve.
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Haunting Danielle Series
by Bobbi Holmes
The Ghost of Marlow House, Book 1
The Ghost Who Loved Diamonds, Book 2
The Ghost Who Wasn’t, Book 3
The Ghost Who Wanted Revenge, Book 4
The Ghost of Halloween Past, Book 5
The Ghost Who Came for Christmas, Book 6
The Ghost of Valentine Past, Book 7
The Ghost from the Sea, Book 8
The Ghost and the Mystery Writer, Book 9
The Ghost and the Muse, Book 10
The Ghost Who Stayed Home, Book 11
The Ghost and the Leprechaun, Book 12
The Ghost Who Lied, Book 13
The Ghost and the Bride, Book 14
The Ghost and Little Marie, Book 15
The Ghost and the Doppelganger, Book 16
The Ghost of Second Chances, Book 17
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Bobbi Holmes
Also known as Anna J. McIntyre
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Unlocked Hearts Series
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