Ruby's Letters

by Maggie Van Well

  Her eyes struggled to focus in the dark. The only light came from the open hatch facing the street. She scanned the area with her flashlight. The room was the same size as the floors above, but since there were no interior walls, it seemed much larger. Except for a few bits of coal, a broken chair and table, it was empty. The cinderblock walls were a dingy gray, and cobwebs hung in a dramatic display.

  Emma had been in hundreds of these cellars and had never felt like this. Her heart pounded, and her breaths were short and shallow. The urge to turn and run was so strong she actually had to fight it.

  Come on, Emma, relax. Nothing is going to reach out and grab you.

  Then a musky scent filled the room.

  The aroma was rather pleasant, but the feelings it produced were not. The hair stood up on the back of her neck. Was someone watching her? She searched the room.

  No one.

  Fingers gripped her shoulder. “Emma.”

  She spun around, her breathing shaky and rushed, as she swiped frantically at her shoulder. “Mike? D-did you call me?”

  No one answered.

  Her body trembled. That voice hadn’t been a male’s voice, but a soft urgent whisper, distinctly female.

  Swallowing hard, she leveled the flashlight again and aimed it at the bin. Her hair still stood on end. The air remained heavy, almost oppressive.

  “Get out.”

  Emma swung her flashlight left and right searching for her tormentor, but the beam of light only encountered dark space. “C’mon guys, this isn’t funny.”

  Again no one answered. She listened closely and could hear her men off in the distance.

  “I swear, Ryan, if you’re doing this to get back at me for not turning over that newspaper, I will end you!”

  No answer.

  No sound at all.

  Determined to get her job done, she turned back to the coal bin. She checked the mortar joints, noting they needed pointing. Something scurried toward her. She jumped back, but her cry turned into a self-mocking laugh as a mouse ran against the wall. The squeaking sound it made was oddly comforting.

  What a silly goose she was. Of course there was a reasonable explanation. The mouse had probably fallen down from one of the ceiling beams onto her shoulder, making it seem like someone grabbed her from behind. The weird voice she’d heard was more than likely a mixture of the mouse’s scurrying, distant voices and the pounding in her ears.

  Feeling much better, she continued her task. This would teach her not to watch Ghost Hunters right before bedtime. She had no idea why Mrs. Morris would want to restore this old coal bin. How many people would come down here? It would make for a good place for a wine cellar or maybe a place to store logs. If Mrs. Morris could manage to keep this place cool and dry, it would season the wood very nicely.

  A painful squeal punctured her thoughts. The mouse darted into the darkness.

  Emma leapt to her feet, the air around her closing in, turning to ice. Her gasps of air, like puffs of smoke leaving her body, faded into the room. Gripping her flashlight, she once again scanned the area. The light flickered and died. She whacked it, hoping to snap it back on. How could it be dead? The batteries sat in their charger every night.

  She struggled to breathe. Out of the corner of her eye, a red mist seeped in from nowhere. Despite the dim light, it glowed and spread from a small orb to take up the whole corner of the room.

  Fear paralyzed her. She willed her legs to move, but they remained motionless. Every cell in her body worked on achieving one goal…getting out of there.

  Fast.

  With all the strength she possessed, she forced her limbs into action. Emma turned to run, but a dark figure blocked her way.

  She dropped her light and screamed.

  “Hey, are you okay, Boss Lady?”

  Her knees nearly gave out from relief and Emma wanted to weep at the sound of Carlos’s concerned voice. She faced him, trying to get her bearings. All at once, the red mist vanished, the air grew warmer, and her flashlight flickered on.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she answered, though her panting breaths and pounding heart begged to differ. She couldn’t remember the last time her body shook so violently.

  “Are you sure? You screamed when you saw me. I admit I make womans scream, but only inside the bedroom.”

  Never in her life had she been so happy to hear his crude remarks. “I know it’s just this house. I guess finding that body is making my imagination run wild.”

  “You can use your imagination with me anytime.” He winked.

  She smiled slightly. “I’m sure your wife would love to hear that.”

  “You could tell her, but she will no believe you. She thinks I am—how do you say—perfection?”

  Knowing full well Carlos would die without his Elisa, she simply nodded. “Close enough.”

  His face grew serious as he picked up the flashlight and handed it to her. “Do you want I should check the bin myself?”

  Emma took the light, annoyed that it seemed to work perfectly now. “I can do this. I was just being silly.”

  “It is not bad to ask for help.”

  “I know. I’ve been told that before.”

  She let out a pent-up, nervous laugh and shooed him from the cellar. The odd feelings and the cold were gone, but she still finished as quickly as she could. Even though she couldn’t see him, she was certain Carlos hovered nearby.

  ***

  “That was terrible, what you did to her,” Ruby fumed.

  Hilary just floated there, staring out at the Brooklyn Bridge, seemingly unconcerned that she’d almost scared ten years off the poor young girl’s life.

  “Of course it was,” Hilary answered. “Why do you think I did it?”

  “You’re fighting a losing battle. Once soul mates meet, there’s no separating them.”

  Hilary turned to her, her cloudy gray eyes blazing. “Don’t lie to me. I know for a fact that is not true.”

  “How could you possibly? It is not something that’s written in any of those books of yours, and only those blessed with the gifts in life understand them in death.”

  Hilary said nothing, but realization came upon Ruby like a sudden gush of water. “Oh, my, I think I’m beginning to see. The day we met, when Barnum marched his elephants across the Brooklyn Bridge, I mentioned your husband’s recent passing and you barely batted an eyelash in grief. You met your soul mate, but you let him go and married a man you did not love.”

  For the first time, alive or dead, Ruby saw something other than anger or bitterness in Hilary’s eyes.

  “You gave up the man of your dreams to do what was expected of you. Marry within your station.”

  “That is no more your business now than it was then.”

  “Oh, but it is. You are trying to hurt two innocent people because of the decisions you made. You tried to do the same thing to your own daughters. You’re punishing Ryan and Emma because of your own cowardice.”

  The sadness, so prevalent in Hilary’s eyes only moments before, morphed into a searing anger, turning her eyes a fiery red. Hilary’s fury grew so strong the walls shook.

  A hammer flew across the room. Had Ruby been solid, it would have hit her between the eyes. Instead it sailed through her and imbedded itself in the wall. Bags of nails toppled from their place on the windowsill. An assortment of screwdrivers trembled in the toolbox before taking flight, and the newly installed wiring was ripped from the walls.

  Ruby surveyed the mess. “They will never finish your home at this rate.”

  “No, but it will serve its own purpose.”

  Ruby wasn’t happy with the evil glint in Hilary’s eyes as footsteps hurried up the stairs.

  ***

  Ryan entered the room. Tools and nails were scattered everywhere, and long strands of electrical wire coiled like dead white snakes on the floor. “What the hell happened in here?”

  Tag followed right behind him. “Holy shit. It took me hours to get that e
lectric done.”

  Walking to the top of the stairs, Ryan shouted to no one in particular. “Who’s been in the master bedroom today?”

  A voice called back. “None of us. Maybe the chimney guys?”

  Ryan saw red. That’s it! I don’t care how cute her ass is or how bad she makes my giblets throb, that woman has got to go.

  Storming through the house, he found Emma working in the front parlor with Mike.

  “What the hell did you and your guys do to the master bedroom?”

  Emma’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? All we did was clean the chimney.”

  “The BX cable was ripped from the walls and used as a jump rope. We were almost ready to drywall that room.”

  “There’s no reason to get upset, Ryan. We’re going to have to make a hole in the wall anyway,” Mike said.

  Emma turned to him, shaking her head. “No, Mrs. Morris asked if we could avoid removing that mantel and mirror since they’re original to the house and in near-perfect condition. We’re going to have to put in a six-inch liner and a draft inducer at the top to avoid—”

  “Can you please discuss your plans some other time so we can get down to the bottom of who did this?” Ryan snapped.

  Emma glared at him and walked away without a word, marching toward the stairs. He followed.

  When she entered the master bedroom, she gasped. “What the hell happened?”

  “Your men is what happened.” But even as the words left his mouth, Ryan knew he wasn’t making any sense. He had no proof or any real motive to suspect her crew of any wrongdoing. It was as if his thoughts weren’t his own.

  She turned to him, her brows raised. “Seriously? Are you delusional? It wasn’t us.”

  “Then how did this happen? Because it sure as hell wasn’t me or any of my men.”

  “I don’t know. The hatch to the basement is open. Maybe someone came in from off the street. It’s happened on job sites before.”

  “You’re making excuses.”

  “No, I’m trying to come up with a reasonable explanation because you can’t seem to accept that we had nothing to do with this. What reason could we possible have for destroying your work?”

  Ryan squeezed his hand into a fist and punched the door, refusing to shake the pain away once it registered. Damn, that hurt! “I knew from the beginning you’d be trouble. I can’t imagine how you and your company got such a sterling reputation when you can’t even control your own men.”

  The urge to check the tool chest had him walking over to it. He knelt down and peered inside, shuffling through the tools before letting out a humorless cackle. “I see they don’t think twice about stealing tools either.”

  Emma glared at him, her anger so palpable it practically smacked his face. She stormed from the room.

  Ryan stared at the doorway, but the remorse that began to build disappeared when he stumbled over a cordless drill. A war raged inside him, between forgiveness and understanding, and an actual desire to devastate her. The compulsion upset him, but the need to spew vile comments was overwhelming.

  There was no way he’d put up with this on one of his job sites. They had already lost valuable time because of the body in the fireplace, and now two whole days’ work was ruined. Right now he had every right to fire her.

  With a determined energy to his step, he followed her downstairs, catching up to her on the garden floor.

  “Emma, wait!”

  She stopped, her spine ramrod straight, and turned to him, her eyes alight with the fire he loved so much.

  “What do you want?”

  She had some nerve to be angry with him when it was she and her men who were causing all the trouble.

  “I’ve had it with this bullshit. I apologize.”

  Emma blinked repeatedly. “What?”

  Of the two, Ryan could not decide who was more shocked by his words, but the more he thought, the more he realized he meant them. “I’m sorry. I was out of line. If you say your men had nothing to do with the destruction upstairs, I believe you.”

  Emma’s spine relaxed and she finally stopped blinking. “Thank you.”

  Ryan took a deep breath and leaned his back against the wall behind him. “Now I have to figure out who did do it so they can’t do it again.”

  Emma shoved her hands into the back pockets of her work-worn jeans and studied her foot as it kicked against a mortar bucket. “We’re fairly ahead of schedule, and a few of my guys have done electrical work and drywall. We’d be glad to help you get back on track.”

  His grin was slow in coming. “I might take you up on that.”

  “Just let me know.”

  Their eyes locked. With just a look, heat seeped into his face and loins. Ryan cleared his throat and moved through the doorway. “I guess you guys are about to start packing it in for today?”

  Emma was slower in leaving the room. “Yeah, it’s about that time. Otherwise we’ll never get out of the city.”

  From out of nowhere, something scurried across the floor. With a shriek of surprise, Emma tripped over the object, landing heavily against Ryan. He lost his balance and they fell to the floor.

  Emma was too shocked by what had happened to be aware of the intimate position they were in. Thankfully for her, he had broken her fall. Not so good for Ryan, who was gasping for air.

  Emma leaned over him. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded. “Wind…knocked out…me.”

  It was then Emma realized she’d maneuvered herself between his legs and the sudden pressure against her pelvis wasn’t the proverbial gun in his pocket.

  Deprived of air only moments before, Ryan now seemed to have an excess of it. Something, she noticed, she suffered from as well. Heat stirred her, again stealing into those spots that had no business responding to this man, although she was beginning to rethink that theory. He felt hard and yet gentle beneath her, and he smelled of… lilacs? Hearing his heavy breathing made the fact that this strong, virile male smelled like flowers inconsequential.

  The gentle brushing of a stray strand of hair behind her ear brought her back to reality. But the reality was so close to her fantasy, she was finding it hard to distinguish the line between them.

  The hand against her cheek slid behind her head, pulling her closer, his lips already parted. Finally, she was going to taste those incredible lips, the lips that had haunted her daydreams since she’d first laid eyes on them.

  “Hey, are you guys all right?”

  When she heard the electrician’s voice, Emma jumped and nearly caused Ryan the pain only a man could have. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she turned to him, hoping her face wasn’t as red hot as it felt.

  “Yes, I think so.” She took Tag’s hand and let him help her up.

  “What happened?”

  Emma glanced at Ryan, who was sitting up now, then back to Tag. Oh, why couldn’t he have waited just a few more minutes? But if he had, he might have caught her in the middle of devouring Ryan’s lips. “I’m not really sure. I tripped over something.”

  Emma squatted and studied a mustard yellow suede bag she’d never seen before. It was old and frayed but still fairly sturdy and had the lilac scent she’d thought belonged to Ryan. With great care, she opened it. She glanced up at him, her brow raised. “I believe I found the tools you’re missing. Or rather, they found you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Tag asked.

  “Nothing,” Emma said, cutting Ryan off when he began to answer. “I didn’t see it and tripped over it. Ryan tried to catch me, but that didn’t work out too well.”

  Emma rose, annoyed that she was still a little unsteady. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the sudden appearance of an inanimate object intent upon tripping her, or to a very animated object that had only moments before been pressed against her abdomen.

  “Is this bag yours?” she asked Ryan.

  He shook his head. “Not mine.”

  “Well, I guess the Halloween tricks
are starting a little early this year.”

  “A whole six weeks early?”

  “Who knows? In any case, I need to get home to my daughter.”

  “I’ll see you around seven.” Tag kissed the back of her hand.

  Emma smiled tentatively before turning to Ryan. His lips had all but disappeared from his face as a vein pulsed in his forehead.

  What must he think of her, having dinner with his electrician while silently begging him to kiss her? It was just a moment of weakness, nothing more. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said meekly, then fled the room.

  Emma ran to her van with barely a goodbye to her men, and made it home as fast as Long Island traffic would allow. Pulling into the driveway, she bolted to her next door neighbor’s house.

  When Sheila answered the door and reached out to shake her hand, Emma grabbed it. “Sheila, I want you to tell me everything you know about ghosts.”

  Chapter Five

  HUMMING ALONG to a—what did the men call her again, Pink?—song, Ruby floated through the house, watching the crew clean up after a hard day’s work. She never knew a ghost could still feel a strong range of emotions, but here she was, happy as a clam.

  After everyone had gone, she lowered herself to the floor and strolled through the rooms, looking for red mist, her nose keen for the smell of musk.

  She found it, as expected, near the large window in the master bedroom. Ruby walked up behind Hilary and stared out at the view. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How we can set the mood for those still living?”

  Hilary didn’t acknowledge her.

  “Your mood altering didn’t work very well, did it?”

  “No matter. I shall find another way.”

  Ruby grinned wickedly. “Funny, the rules that seem to apply in the afterlife, while one is still in limbo between heaven and earth.”

  “Just spit it out, you wretched woman.”

  If Ruby had a bottom lip, she’d have to bite into it to keep herself from giggling with glee. “I can go anywhere, anywhere I want in this house. But you…you can’t go into the kitchen, can you? The whole garden floor is uncomfortable for you. And it doesn’t take a psychic to know why. When Emma and Ryan are in there you can’t touch them, and their true selves are revealed.”