Foretold (A Ghost Gifts Novel Book 2)

by Laura Spinella

  Much of the sedate chatter focused on Zeke and Aubrey’s past, the old days. It was a time when problems came and went with the towns they traveled to, and life on the whole seemed to stand still. The memories were secure, and this made Aubrey feel better. Since Levi left and then Pete, the anchor of happy, everyday talk was gone, and Aubrey felt as if her life had been set adrift. Sometimes the ache was outright unbearable. So it seemed good, even right, having someone familiar and handy to spend time with. What was so wrong with that?

  It’s what Aubrey asked herself as chores wound down to a large basket of laundry that belonged in the bedroom and after her mention of an eye-catching addition to the house. “I think Levi nearly drove the architect mad, but it really did turn out beautiful. There’s a preserve behind the house, and the view is really something.”

  A few minutes later, the observation became an invitation. Zeke sat on a cushion-topped storage box, absorbing the scene Aubrey described. The day had begun as early autumn impersonating summer. As the afternoon wore on and Zeke sat, clouds thickened even more. Aubrey thought it was the kind of weather where God couldn’t make up His mind, sending shimmering rays of sun peeking through thick puffs of blackness. It was eerie and beautiful.

  Aubrey stood on the far side of the bed, methodically folding clothes. The room turned quiet, and a lump settled in her throat as she realized that everything in the basket belonged to her. It’d been a mix until then—a golf shirt of Levi’s that she’d washed again and again, trying to dislodge a grimy stain. She’d refused to let it go. Maybe it wasn’t so much the stain, but to set aside the last piece of Levi’s laundry felt like she was giving up on them. It’d been easier to hang on to the essence, if not smell, of Pete. Until a week or two ago, she’d still been retrieving the odd sock from under his bed, a T-shirt thrown in the bottom of his closet. But now they were just her things—alone things.

  “Aubrey.”

  She looked up. Zeke seemed to sparkle with hope, or more likely, the strange light coming through the bedroom window.

  “It will fix itself. Give it more time.”

  “But that’s not like saying Levi will come back, even if Pete does.”

  “I’m not saying he will or won’t. I don’t know him well, at all really. But you do.” He rose from the window seat. The peekaboo sunlight must have been warm, and Zeke rolled up the sleeves of his long-sleeved green flannel. He was such a contrast to the angst in Aubrey’s life, the calm of a millpond separating from a rough ocean. His longish hair, the stubble of a beard, and a sinewy frame, none of it had changed from the images that lived vividly in her mind. Yet it was Zeke’s voice that brought the most comfort—not necessarily his words, but the sound. The way its timbre settled into her bones, more real than the life currently surrounding her.

  Years ago, she’d so admired Zeke’s fierce loyalty to Nora—something Aubrey thought she’d found with Levi. And while it was unintentional, Aubrey drifted toward the memory of a love affair, the one she’d shared with Zeke. But now time had softened the rough edges. Staring at him—his dark eyes, the scar above—Aubrey let go of turmoil and gave in to warmer recollections. Zeke smiled, and the lump in her throat melted. She looked back at the layers of laundry, grateful it was folded and sorted and taking up much of the bed.

  “You have to believe that,” he said.

  “Believe what?” she said, blinking at him. “Sorry, I lost my train of thought.”

  “Believe that things with Levi will work out for the best.” He laughed. “Remember, I’m supposed to hate him. How pro-Levi do you want me to be? Knowing him like you do, that should tell you everything, even how this will end. Listen to it.”

  The remark teetered between ominous and encouraging. “You’d think I’d know his mind, especially with so much time and a son between us.” Tightness swelled, then it ached. “Levi never was and still isn’t what anyone would call easy. That imperfection, it’s what drew me to him the most. It’s his greatest asset and his biggest fault. As long as you’re not the thing he’s resisting, it’s mesmerizing.”

  “Ah, I take it I fall to the resistant side of Levi’s brain.”

  “You do.” The remark highlighted their current location. Aubrey ignored it but was cued to the point Levi had made about Zeke. Maybe now was a good time to bring up his sudden appearance in Surrey. “Zeke, I wanted to ask you something. Well, to be perfectly frank, it’s Levi’s question more than mine.”

  He frowned a bit. “Go on.”

  “It’s about your work with the Serino family. I told you once I had an encounter with Eli Serino—a rather angry spirit.”

  “Vaguely. Coincidence, I think that’s what we concluded.”

  “It seems the coincidence has grown more curious. Recently, since you came to town, I had another run-in with Eli Serino. Two, in fact. Remember, I told you about the missing boys—a teenager from outside Philly, another from Tucson.”

  “Right. You’re helping out your friend. Piper, was it?”

  “I’m not sure you’d define her as a friend—”

  “Not like you and me, anyway.” He arced his hand through the air between them. “Not that kind of bond.”

  “No. Not like us.” Aubrey smiled at him. “The point is Eli somehow connects to these missing boys. How, I haven’t figured out.”

  “Not sure I can help with that. Angry spirits aren’t my thing. I told you. I just want to help you.”

  “I didn’t think you could help directly with Eli. But Nora is married to a Serino half-brother. You did work for them.”

  “That’s right. I worked for Jude.”

  “And you indicated that your departure wasn’t exactly . . . amicable. Could, um . . . could you tell me more about that?”

  “Like a lot of long-term business relationships, it went south. It wasn’t a pleasant ending.”

  She thrust her hand back in the laundry basket, plucking out a towel, folding and then refolding it.

  “Aubrey, is there something specific you want to ask? Up until now, your fine motor skills seemed to be working okay.”

  He moved closer, his steps airy, almost a glide. Looking him in the eye suddenly didn’t seem like an option. Her gaze moved downward, past the buttons on his green shirt and onto the rolled-up sleeve. A gasp fluttered from her throat and she squashed it sharply. A tattoo peeked out on Zeke’s forearm. Aubrey reached; there was no resistance as she turned his arm upward.

  “Where did you get this tattoo? It’s very . . . unique.” It was also a dead-on match to the artist’s rendering of the tattoo from Dan Watney’s dead body.

  “The Serinos, they branded me.”

  Aubrey looked up as a grin spread across Zeke’s face. “Is that a joke?”

  “No. It was a job requirement. Last commercial project I worked with them.”

  “What does it mean, the tattoo?”

  “It’s symbolic. Sorry—I didn’t see any reason to mention it. But you’re right. It is connected to Eli Serino. The Eli, it’s what they named a casino built in his memory. Something about honoring the dead boy and meant to appease Suzanne Serino.”

  “Eli’s mother.”

  “That’s how Jude explained it to me. Apparently, she’s not been right in the head since the kid killed himself. As for the tat, that was about . . .” He squinted, glancing toward the bedroom ceiling. “Oh, I guess about six months ago. Jude gave a 5K bonus to anybody on the payroll who agreed to get a tattoo.”

  “And that’s why you got one?”

  “No. Nothing so simple. The promise of $5,000 wouldn’t have persuaded me to change a light bulb for Jude, never mind brand myself. I got the tattoo because I was his right-hand man, because that’s what you did if you worked for Jude. Like I said, I was in deep, and the relationship didn’t end well—particularly for him.” Zeke glanced at the tattoo. “An unwanted souvenir of my association. That’s all.”

  Aubrey’s breath tremored on the way in. “And this tattoo, this souvenir. Did Jude hav
e one too?”

  “Yes. Of course. Lots of people connected to the project have one. He set the example.” It was quiet for a moment. “Aubrey?”

  She blinked into his eyes. It was an absurd thought. It was years of living with Levi. But she knew Zeke; Levi didn’t. When she didn’t reply, he inched closer. Something was off in Zeke’s presence; something wasn’t reading right. Zeke’s fingertips came forward, touching her cheek.

  “Remember. I’m just here to help you. You know how I feel about you. That’s never changed.”

  Suspicion wavered. In the tight proximity of the large bedroom, a tingle wove down Aubrey’s spine. There wasn’t any trepidation—just the reassuring scent of Zeke, the fact that he was there for her, the encouraging timbre of his voice.

  It was the sudden drill of Pete’s voice that startled Aubrey, the sound of the screen door creaking and slamming. “Mom! Mom, are you here?” Feet pounded up the stairs, and Aubrey’s heart raced. “Mom, you won’t believe what happened—Mom . . .”

  “Pete,” she said breathlessly. His bedroom was first in the hall. She heard him go in, still calling her. She glanced at Zeke, who didn’t make a sound. Two things ran through her mind: Was asking him to shimmy down the trellis rude? And thank God it was only Pete’s hurried boyish steps, only his voice she heard. “You should probably go.” Slight panic rode her tone.

  He only shrugged softly. “He’s a lot like you, Aubrey. I think he’ll be fine.”

  Zeke’s cryptic reply hit her ears as Pete bounded into the bedroom. “Mom, where the heck is my—” He gripped his fingers around the door molding, applying brakes that shot him back toward the hall with the force of a bungee cord. Pete blinked like the scene wouldn’t come into focus—his mother standing with a man, who wasn’t his father, poised at the edge of the bed. “What the . . . ?”

  Aubrey moved fast, putting herself closer to her son, farther away from Zeke. “Pete, you remember Zeke—or at least me mentioning that he was in town. He, um . . . he stopped by, and I had a lot of things to do.” She pointed to the laundry and tried to keep it casual, as if Pete had found them in the basement as opposed to a bedroom. “We got to talking. That’s all. I finished everything I had to do downstairs. I was showing Zeke the view, putting wash away.” She stood directly in front of Pete, her height still challenging his, though probably not for much longer. Regardless, her son peered past her shoulder. His expression shifted, a look Aubrey associated with Pete’s dreams—bizarre confusion and outright terror.

  His mouth gaped. “Mom . . . he’s, um . . . what’s he doing here?”

  “Hello, Pete,” Zeke said.

  The boy’s mouth clamped shut. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and opened them, color rising in his cheeks. She needed to fix this, and fast. “I’m the one who should be surprised. A good surprise, of course. What are you doing here?” Tucked under his arm was a basketball.

  He didn’t answer, Zeke’s voice rising from behind them. “I think it might be better if I left. I don’t want to get in between any mother-and-son reunion. I know the way out.”

  Aubrey turned and mouthed “thank you” to Zeke. He strode across the carpeted floor and she stepped aside. In turn, Pete planted himself flat against the hall wall, his eyes wide as two moons as Zeke passed by.

  Pete didn’t move, fixated on the staircase; a creaking sound rose as Zeke passed the midway point—a step Levi had been meaning to fix. Aubrey struggled, trying to find her mental footing. Okay, maybe that was a little weird . . . but it’s not like anything inappropriate was happening . . . She wondered if Levi had gone as far as to mention Zeke to Pete, and not in a positive context. Then she got her own back up against the wall. If you and your father hadn’t left . . . if our life wasn’t completely upside down, Zeke wouldn’t be in a conversation, never mind my bedroom . . .

  “Pete.” Aubrey led with her most motherly tone. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here and why you’re so excited? I heard it in your voice the second you came through the front door.”

  “I’ll bet you did.” He peeled his gaze from the staircase. “Basketball. I made first string. Only seventh grader to do that.”

  “That’s fantastic!” She couldn’t help it, throwing her arms around her son. His reaction was clear.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t touch me!” He repelled, dropping the basketball. It hit the floor with a thud and rolled until it bounced down the stairs, crashing hard into what Aubrey guessed was the potted peperomia at the bottom.

  It wasn’t the action; it was Pete’s anger-laced tone. Nervously, she folded and unfolded her empty arms. Was it guilt about what Pete had walked in on, or what he might have walked in on given another five minutes? “I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly. “I’m excited for you. That’s all. I know how much you love to play. It’s a big deal for a seventh grader to make first string.”

  “Yeah. Must be awesome when something normal swoops in to save the day, or just maybe your conversations.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “That guy. He doesn’t belong here. You brought him here, into our house.”

  For a moment, Aubrey wasn’t sure if she was talking to Levi or their son; his tone was so similar to his father’s. “It was nothing, Pete. Zeke and I, we’re old friends.”

  “The creepiest kind.”

  Aubrey found her face hot and her emotions defensive. “I get that finding Zeke standing in the bedroom was . . . awkward, but nothing was happening.” She pointed to the bed. “I was folding wash. He was looking at the view. We were talking. That’s all.”

  “That’s not all,” he shouted. “You’re just too fucked up to see it! Totally fucked up!” He shook his head hard, his face crimson with rage. “God, I so wish you weren’t my mother!”

  “What the—” Levi’s voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs. He pounded up them, clearly taking two at a time. Seconds later, the three of them stood in the bedroom, eyeballing one another. “What the hell is going on? Why is there a smashed plant at the bottom of the stairs? And why,” he said, shooting an angry glare at Pete, “are you talking to your mother like that?”

  Aubrey assumed coming clean was her best bet. “Zeke was here.”

  “In the house?” Levi said.

  “In the bedroom,” she replied, keeping her gaze steady on Levi’s.

  “Like it matters what room,” Pete muttered.

  “He was where?”

  “It was nothing,” Aubrey said. “We talked downstairs for a while. I mentioned the bedroom addition while I was doing chores. I showed it to Zeke. That’s all.” She pointed to the light-filled space, her aim landing on the laundry-filled, neatly made bed. “Pete came in and . . .” She sucked in a breath and fought wet lashes, blindsided by tension on the verge of bursting. “It was nothing, Levi.”

  The look he offered said it was something more than nothing. In reply, Aubrey wriggled her brow, seeing a fresh scratch on Levi’s cheek. “I’m surprised you didn’t pass him on your way in. He just left.”

  Pete snickered, and Levi’s attention whipped toward him. “Something funny I’m missing, son?”

  Pete knew better than to challenge sentences that ended with an uptick to “son.”

  “We’ll get back to your visitor, Aubrey.” He turned to Pete. “Use language like that again within earshot of me, or more importantly, in reference to your mother, and you’ll be off that first-string basketball team as quick as you were on it. Is anything about that unclear?”

  Pete narrowed his eyes at both his parents. Then a twelve-year-old Pete looked a little older, a lot angrier. “Sure. Control me by threatening to take normal away. That’s great, Pa.” He started for the stairs, clearly aiming to be out of Levi’s reach. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s the both of you who are completely fucked up.” At the bottom of the stairs, he yelled, “I’ll be at Dylan’s when you’re done fighting.”

  The observation, Pete’s unlikely expletive, left them both dumbfou
nded. Levi spent a moment examining his shoes, then pushed his glasses tighter to his face. “And I think we’re back to the reason moving out seemed like a good idea.”

  Aubrey offered a feeble nod, taking in the large square footage of the bedroom. She preferred to remember the reasons they’d built the space, how many good years there’d been compared to moments like this.

  “It was nothing, Levi,” she repeated. “Zeke stopped by . . . we were talking. That’s it. I admit Pete startled me. But it’s not like he walked in on anything remotely inappropriate.”

  “Call me old-fashioned, but I’d say your ex-lover visiting your current bedroom on any level is inappropriate.”

  Aubrey folded her arms. “Right.” She looked him right in the eye. “And what label would you like to put on yourself?”

  Stymied was an unusual look for Levi, and his dark gaze jerked away from her. “If Pete’s reaction was over the top, I can’t say I’m surprised. The first-string basketball news was an unexpected high in what’s been a rough few days for him.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Three nights of excessively disturbing dreams. The first one was about what he’d been experiencing here for the past year—talking in his sleep, then a lot of yelling. He repeated a woman’s name during the dream. It was mixed-up sentences about people and places. Yet it was like he was there, like Pete knows the people in the dream.”

  “Levi, how many times do I have to say it—”

  “I know. You don’t think they’re ‘dreams,’ per se,” he said, air quoting the word. “Sorry, Aubrey. But ‘dream’ is the best description my common mind can process.”

  “Which is why he should be with me, or better yet, both of us.”

  “Do you want to hear this or just finish the fight our son just called us on?”

  “And you need to understand that Pete not being here makes it twice as frustrating for me.”

  “Maybe so, but at least your life came with the starter kit.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him.