She flushed, mostly because of how he was speaking to her, but also because she had honestly forgotten about the paperwork. Now she remembered telling Elizabeth not to send Charles early and that she'd be happy to take care of it during his weekly visit, but last week, she'd completely forgotten about it. "Of course, it's just that I'd expected this paperwork last week," she said. She used her best manager voice to imply he'd been slow to get them drawn up and put him on the defensive.
It worked to a small extent. His face showed nothing but he shifted in his chair and glowered at her. "I needed to discuss the changes with her before I could write them up. We're busy people, April. Not everyone has all day to lie around," he snapped.
She was pleased that she'd riled him but didn't take it further. "Do you have a pen?" she asked politely. He tossed one across the desk and she scooped it up before it could roll off the edge. As usual, each page was clearly highlighted for signatures and initials, but there were many pages to get through in the first package.
She took her time and read them, trying to make sure the terms were similar to what she'd discussed with Elizabeth, regardless of his hints that she should just hurry up and sign. While she was absorbed in the reading, he stood up and moved around to the side of the desk, to hover over her.
She didn't notice at first, but when his shadow crossed the legal pages, she flinched and looked up at him. He'd somehow crept right up next to her. She wanted to tell him off but she was too nervous to confront him. She tried hinting that he was too close by clearing her throat and eying him significantly, but he ignored it and, finally, she simply turned back to the contract.
He must have figured out what would be safely hidden from the camera because as she bent over to sign, she felt his hand on her ass. She tried to pretend it wasn't happening but the caress turned into a hard pinch and she jumped, spinning around with a glare. "Don't touch me!" she snapped.
"Or what, April? Going to call your ghost lover to protect you?" he asked, mocking her with his tone. "Oh, I forgot…you can't. It's daytime, and we're all alone."
"That's what you—" She stopped abruptly. He still thought that John was dormant during the day. Something inside warned her not to correct him, to let him keep believing it, and she quickly changed what she'd been about to say. "That's what you think! We're never alone, as long as the cameras are running," she said, jerking her chin towards the one in the corner.
"True. True, but they won't always be here, will they?" It sounded like a threat and the look on his face confirmed it as one, but a second later, he was laughing like she'd told him a joke and moving to sit back down.
She felt it was a show for the people who'd watch the film later and knew that they wouldn't be able to see anything out of the ordinary. If she freaked out now, she'd look like some over-reacting child. She took a breath and let it out slowly, leaning back over to flip through the remaining pages. She signed the last one and tugged her check free of the clip, folding it in half and slipping it into her pocket.
She pushed the rest towards him and he took his time going through every page to make sure she hadn't missed one. Only when he was satisfied, did he drop them into his briefcase and shut it. "Always a pleasure seeing you, April. Tell your ghost I said hello," he said as he got to his feet and picked up the briefcase.
She might have said goodbye, afterwards, she couldn't remember; she'd been too flustered and upset. Her heart was racing as she hurriedly locked the door behind him and then she ran up the stairs at full speed and dove into the bed, under the covers. She felt like a child hiding from monsters; if they couldn't see her, they couldn't get to her, but the problem with being a grownup was that she knew it didn't work like that. Monsters were real and they could find you, even under the blankets.
It was only after she'd calmed down that she decided to call for John. Simply saying his name was enough to make him appear with a smile that was only for her. She relaxed almost instantly when she saw him. He exuded love and safety, which was just what she needed to finally relax.
He looked surprised, noting the time of day. "Are you well?" he asked with concern in his voice, immediately approaching the bed and settling beside her.
April opened her mouth to blurt out the whole story, but it suddenly occurred to her that she might not like his reaction. He had told her to call him the next time Charles came while she was alone, and she couldn't even honestly say she'd forgotten because she'd made a deliberate choice to deal with it herself. She squirmed nervously, leaning against his side and settling there. "No, nothing. I just missed you," she said quietly. She kept her face tilted down, in case he could read the lie from her expression.
"Always nice to be missed," he said as he got comfortable on the bed. If he suspected her of lying, he didn't comment on it but he did notice her silence as she cuddled against his side. "You're quiet today," he said simply.
She tilted her head so she could look up at him. Her mind was filled with thoughts that were begging to get out, but she had to be careful which ones she spoke. There was just one week left now. "There's only seven days left," she said finally. There was a whole world of meaning in the short statement.
Seven days before she committed her whole life to him and to spending the rest of her life in his house—their house. One week to sort out how she felt about everything and decide if this was what she wanted. The days had flown by so fast, it didn't seem like she'd already been here weeks, but then, sometimes, it felt like she'd always been here. She could barely remember a life without John. And now, there was such a short time left to give Elizabeth everything she needed to make the virtual reality experiences a success. If she stayed, she'd be depending on her percentage of the profit to keep the old mansion going.
It wasn't all bad, of course. In a week, all the cameras and recording equipment would be out of the house and they'd finally be completely alone. That was definitely something to celebrate. And of course, she already had seventy-six thousand dollars, with one more check coming for the final week's work. That money meant either a good start somewhere else, if she left, or enough money for house upkeep for a while, if she stayed. How long would it last, though?
A hundred thousand dollars was more money than she'd ever had in her life. If she was able to save every penny she made at work, with no living expenses, it would still take her years to save up that much, but the taxes and expenses on a house this size would eat through it quickly. If the game didn't sell well, what would she do, then? Sell the furniture, she supposed. Even if the game did fantastic, how long would that income last before people moved onto something new? There was so much to worry about.
"Tell me what you're thinking about?" he asked, a request and not a command. His hand stroked her back gently, a caress of comfort and nothing more. He held her while her mind raced, turning over one worry after another until she relaxed enough to talk to him.
"I'm worried about the house, the expenses to keep it going. I don't know what the taxes would be on it, but I feel like the money I'm getting paid for this month is probably not going to last long," she said with a sigh. A condensed version of what she was feeling, but truthful.
His hand slid up into her hair, twining in the strands. "That's a problem for the future. I have faith that we will find a way, April," he said in a low tone.
"Faith?" She shifted slightly so that she could see him better. "John, do you believe in God?" she asked, curious, more than anything. He'd spanked her once for using the 'Lord's name in vain' but he hadn't otherwise said much about religion.
"I didn't mean faith in God, per say. More faith that we're meant to be together and so things will come together for us."
He paused, continuing to play with her hair as he thought over her question. "I suppose it's a difficult question to answer. I did, once, but that was a very long time ago. In my time, it wasn't something you thought much about. You went to church, you prayed, and you expected to go to Heaven when you died."
She
listened quietly, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, she pushed. "So when did it change?" she asked.
He chuckled and smoothed a hand over the crown of her head. "Well, I'm not in Heaven, so I suppose that's part of it. Seeing one horrible thing after another happen in this house made me wonder how God could exist if he allowed such evil. I would say I don't disbelieve in a higher power now, but I'm no longer sure there is one," he concluded, sounding almost regretful.
She was sad that what he'd gone through had stripped that from him. It probably would have been a comfort over the long years, but she could understand why that had changed for him. "I wasn't really raised with any particular religion. My father didn't believe in God, and my mother was spiritual but not religious, I guess," she said. There was a little bit of relief to know that this was one problem, at least, that they wouldn't have to work out.
"Has this been a concern for you?" he asked, eyebrow going up in question.
She laughed and shook her head. "No, just a random question that popped into my head." She sobered, the smile slipping from her lips. "But, I'm not sure I have faith the universe is going to drop a fortune on us, either."
"I'll have to have enough faith for both of us then," he said with a soft chuckle.
She reached up, running her hand along his jawline backwards, to make the scruff rough against her skin. "I'd expect so much more hate in you, after being trapped here all this time, and being betrayed by your friend." Everything she knew about ghosts, not nearly enough, said that he should be a mess of negative emotions, but he wasn't.
"What good would that do? Nothing can change what happened, April. I can't turn back time and correct the mistakes; all I can do is go forward, and if I focus on hate and anger, how would I have room for love?" he explained gently. "Besides, who would I focus it on? The one who did this to me is long since dead and gone to his punishment, or so I hope."
"I guess, but spirits who get trapped are usually angry about it," she said. That's what she had heard, anyway, and John, for all his determination to stay, was originally as trapped as much as any ghost, by the circumstances of his death.
"That's only to be expected, and I was, in the beginning. But that was a long time ago. I've had time to think things through, time to adjust to my circumstances." He shrugged, shifting under her.
She didn't tell him how unusual that was. What was the point in mentioning that most ghosts were never able to understand what had happened to them, let alone interact with the living world with any kind of self-awareness? He already knew that he was different and accepted that it was his connection with the house that had made him that way. Whether he was right, she couldn't say, but maybe the professor would be able to come up with a hypothesis about it. "Oh! I almost forgot. Ben wanted to know if you'd be willing to come around tomorrow. He's ready to try a few experiments with your help," she said.
John had already agreed so there was no hesitation in saying yes. However, it ended up getting April in trouble with him the next day. What she hadn't taken into account, was that having John around during the day meant he might find out that she'd kept the lawyer's visit from him.
The evening had been peaceful and relaxing. They'd spent time together watching television and talking before bed. April's mood continued to waver every time she thought about Charles's visit and what had occurred during it. Despite her efforts all week to provide the camera with plenty of footage for the adult experience, she found she just couldn't get in the mood to do anything with John, when she kept flashing back to Charles's undesirable touch.
It made her physically ill to remember the feeling of his hand on her ass, but she played it off as being tired. "I just need a break from all the on-screen action," she'd told John as she snuggled against him, and he'd accepted that without question, but the next day, he heard about the visit and put things together.
It was her own fault. She shouldn't have lied and she knew that, but she also hadn't realized that John would be hanging around waiting until he was called. She was so used to him giving her privacy and staying dormant during the day that it hadn't even occurred to her that it would be different that day.
When the team arrived, April tugged Carson aside and told her what had happened after she'd left. She wanted the tech girl to go over the library footage carefully and see if there was anything, anything at all, that would prove the lawyer's lechery. If they could catch something on camera to show Elizabeth, she'd have to replace the man, even with only a week left to go.
With Carson off looking for evidence, April went about her normal routine. She finished writing the report on her very quiet evening and presented it to the professor as they moved into the parlor for the morning interview. He seemed disappointed; after a week of very exciting accounts full of sexual adventures and manifestations of John's ghostly powers on tape, it was a bit of a letdown to find out that they'd just watched television and cuddled before bed.
"Well, I guess we all have a boring day, now and then," he said finally after they'd wrapped up the interview in record time. "Perhaps there was activity in the rest of the house," he added in a hopeful tone.
She laughed. "You know, Ben, I think you're getting spoiled." She'd relaxed around him enough now to tease a little, and he seemed to appreciate it, giving her a sheepish look.
"I suppose I am. It's just this house has been a dream come true. So much going on." He tapped a pen against his notebook, smiling. "Oh, did you ask the ent…uh…John if he'd be willing today?" It had taken time, but he'd finally gotten comfortable with thinking of John as a person, though he still lapsed back on referring to him as 'the entity'.
"He's willing. What did you have in mind?" she asked. "Or maybe this is easier. John, can you come?" she said, addressing the empty air in front of her.
Professor Marlowe leaned forward, eyes straining at the spot as if he might be able to see something, too, but of course, there was nothing there for him. "Is he…is he here?" he asked nervously.
"Yep, in living color. Well, sort of," she said, laughing at her joke. She settled back against the sofa and gave the space in front of her a fond smile. She could, of course, see John clearly. He was fully dressed, for a change, as though he'd wanted to make a good impression, even though only she could see him. Shirt, vest, jacket, and even a tie were all there, a complete outfit instead of a variation he normally wore.
"John Binder, this is Professor Ben Marlowe. Ben, this is John," she said, indicating the spot.
The oldest member of the paranormal team seemed almost star-struck. His mouth gaped for a long moment as he tried to find his words, finally managing to speak only after the silence had stretched out embarrassingly. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Binder. Thank you for agreeing to help. You have no idea how important this is to me," he said. The words tumbled out in a rush of excitement and April had to hide a smile.
She translated back and forth between the living and the dead, acting as an actual medium for the first time, really. The professor explained what he wanted, and it was simple enough that John didn't need her to break it down. It involved moving things in various patterns while it was filmed. Precautions were taken to prove there were no wires attached to the items.
"Of course, some will still claim it's faked, but it's important to gather as much evidence as possible, regardless," Ben explained.
It was while they were going through the routine that things went south for April. Carson returned from the equipment room with news. "Sorry, April. Everything on camera looks normal. I can see that sleazebag invading your personal space but that's about it, and no luck on the sound. Everything that recorded was pretty professional. I wish I'd known he was going to show up yesterday, after all, I'd have stayed longer," she said, shooting April a sympathetic look.
She must have known something was wrong because she paused, looking concerned. "Are you okay?"
Ben frowned; he was a bit out of the loop on what was happening, too. Only April
and John knew why she suddenly looked panic-stricken.
She seemed to be listening intently, growing more nervous by the second, until her eyes dropped to stare at the carpet. "I'm fine, but John's a little—" She cleared her throat anxiously. "Upset. He said we'll discuss it later, though. He'd like to go on with the experiments."
She might have tried to keep the fact that she was in trouble from the team but what would be the point. Whatever John did to work out his anger was going to be a vivid part of their entertainment the next day. And it wasn't just a guess, he'd said as much, making her face darken with an embarrassed flush, even though no one else could hear the threats.
They continued the experiments, progressing to Carson laying out flashcards in the kitchen with pictures on them, while John moved back and forth between rooms to describe the pictures to April. They were simple shapes mostly, luckily, since she had no skills in art, and she had to draw them on paper and hold them up for the camera to record each one.
"Of course, someone with extra sensory perception could do this, as well, but it seems unlikely they'll try to prove spirits a hoax by bringing that up." He chuckled as he noted down that she'd gotten all of them correct. It wasn't unexpected; he no longer had any doubts about the spirits in the house and what they could do. The last of his skepticism had died a quiet death when April had arrived and he'd seen the video of her first night in the kitchen.
If there was any way to fake the sight of a girl being spanked by an invisible presence, he couldn't think of how. He'd seen her skin flattened out by an unseen hand as it darkened and the look of pain on her face as it happened. That was all it had taken to convince him totally that the house was haunted. Whether that conviction would carry over to people who would examine every inch of data with intense scrutiny, he couldn't say. He could only hope.
The team packed up early to leave, since there hadn't been much activity the night before, but the professor left smiling and extremely pleased with the events of the morning. John had disappeared again, once the experiments were complete, vanishing to wherever he went during the day. She was sure he'd return the moment the house was empty, and there was a sick feeling in her stomach telling her she was going to regret the lying and disobedience from the day before.
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