by Hope Ramsay
He looked up. The old ceiling, which once had sparkled with twinkling lights like a starry night sky, was gone. He swallowed his disappointment. He’d heard something about how the theater had almost burned down. If the ceiling was all that had been lost, then he was grateful. He’d been happy here as a child, watching movies with his older brother. Luke had liked Goobers better than Milk Duds. It was a strange and random thought. But it brought a warming smile to his lips.
He followed Nita down to the front of the auditorium where a group of people had gathered. These people wore suits and dresses and looked pretty mainstream. Jenny was there, wearing a green dress made of some kind of knit material that clung to her body. This dress didn’t button up to her chin, and it exposed a lot of leg. She was wearing a pair of heels, too. Lust percolated through him. This craving was deeper and more intense than any desire for sweets.
And it was just as dangerous.
“I want to introduce you to members of the Last Chance Book Club who have done such a terrific job publicizing this event. We’re all very thankful that you agreed to do it. We’ve raised more money than we ever thought we could.”
He chuckled darkly. “But I imagine the fuss outside isn’t helping your efforts to save the library, is it?”
Nita gave him a gentle smile. “It’s hard when the church ladies get all riled up. But that’s not your fault. Come on, now, don’t be negative. We do appreciate your help.”
He forced a smile to his face and let Nita lead him to the group of people. He met five or six women whose names went through his brain like water, and then suddenly he was standing face-to-face with someone he remembered.
“Simon?” He almost whispered the name because something cold and heavy seemed to press down on him the moment he shook the man’s hand. He was tall and thin with dark hair threaded with strands of gray. He was impeccably dressed, as if he bought his clothes in Savannah or Charleston, and he was standing beside a woman who was much younger than him and easily nine months’ pregnant.
“It’s me,” he said.
Simon and Luke had been inseparable friends during the summers Gabe spent in Last Chance. Random memories of Simon rushed back through him. Simon had always played the peacemaker. How had he forgotten that? For all Gabe adored his brother, the two of them had squabbled over a lot of things. Like brothers do.
Simon hadn’t changed much in twenty-five years. “I’ve been meaning to stop by The Jonquil House for a couple of weeks, but I’ve been a little busy,” he said. His voice sounded tense, and his eyes tracked left. He was lying. Why would he lie about that?
Gabe’s brain seemed to be moving in slow motion. Simon was always at Luke’s side, almost every day. They were inseparable friends.
The monster at the bottom of the black hole that was Gabe’s memory shifted and writhed, while the cold became almost unbearable. The ghost was making himself known. Luke wanted Gabe to pay attention to Simon.
“Hi, I’m Molly, Simon’s wife,” the pregnant woman said, drawing her knitted shawl closer around her shoulders, as if she also felt the drop in temperature. In fact, everyone in the room seemed to be hunching down in their jackets and shawls. “I don’t reckon you and I ever met,” Simon’s wife continued, “But I’ve heard about you. I’m the reason he’s been so busy. I’ve been running Simon ragged getting ready for the baby.” She snaked her arm through Simon’s in a gesture that was protective. She was lying, too.
“Goodness gracious,” Nita said, tugging him away from the couple, “I need to tell Savannah to turn up the heat.”
Gabe allowed himself to be pulled away, but he looked over his shoulder and discovered that Simon was staring at him as if he were evil incarnate.
Zeph stayed at the back of The Kismet’s dining room, feeling constricted in his new dress shirt and blue blazer. He shouldn’t be here. He felt strange and out of place.
But Nita had insisted. In fact, she’d come visiting this afternoon bearing chocolate chip cookies, a VIP ticket to the fund-raiser, and this suit of new clothes for him to wear.
And when he’d told her that he wouldn’t accept any of it, she’d scowled at him and told him to get down off his high horse. She’d also made it clear that she wasn’t pushing charity at him.
Like every member of the Library Committee, she’d been given one VIP ticket to the fund-raiser. For some reason, Nita had chosen him as her guest. And she’d told him that she had no objections to his overalls, but that she didn’t want people staring at him if he chose to wear them.
She’d told him that he didn’t even have to wear the clothes again, which was a good thing because the shirt’s neck was too small, and he hated wearing ties.
But it wasn’t the clothes or the VIP ticket that had gotten him here. Nita had impressed upon him that Gabe was going to be standing up in public talking to a bunch of strangers about how Black Water was influenced by the summers he’d spent in Last Chance, and everyone in attendance was going to figure out that Zebulon Stroud, the villain in the book, was loosely based on him.
“I do not want strangers to think you’re some kind of crazy man ready to commit murder,” she’d said pushing the clothes at him.
“Would it be all right if I was just a crazy man?”
She looked him in the eye. “Zeph Gibbs, you are no more crazy than I am. I told you that I believe you have been haunted by the ghost of Luke Raintree.”
“Yes, ma’am, but there is believing and believing. You think I’ve been haunted by the past, but I’m telling you I’ve been haunted by a real, dead ghost.”
“Either way, it’s time to lay that ghost to rest. And there is only one way to make that happen, and that’s to tell the truth and expose the lie.”
“It will tear Gabe apart.”
“It might. But I don’t care about Gabe Raintree. Oh, well, I do care, but I don’t care about him the way I care about you.”
The idea that Nita Wills cared about him was what did him in. And now he was standing here in the back of the auditorium with his eyes glued to Nita, who circulated around the crowd of VIPs like a honeybee, wearing a yellow dress that made him want to do things that weren’t right.
Man, that woman was hotter than Louisiana Hot Sauce, and she had no clue.
And then Gabe arrived, and the temperature in the room fell to near freezing because the ghost came walking in right behind him. Of course, Zeph couldn’t see the ghost any more than Gabe or Nita could. But he knew. The cold was a giveaway.
And when it got this cold, it meant the ghost was agitated—ready to do something like throw furniture across the room.
Zeph watched Gabe as Nita introduced him to the VIPs. And then Gabe came face-to-face with Simon. For the first time in twenty-five years, Zeph’s boys, or what was left of them, were reunited. Based on Simon’s stiff posture, Gabe’s confused look, Luke’s cold rage, and Zeph’s guilty conscience, it looked as if disaster was about to strike.
Nita seated Jenny at the head table. The seating arrangement was so awkward that Jenny felt like a hippo wearing a tutu.
For starters, Bill Ellis was at her right hand, and he kept giving her glances like he couldn’t believe what she was wearing. The green Calvin Klein dress draped over her body in a way that revealed and concealed at the same time. The neckline was the most revealing part of the dress. It showed off her cleavage. Which was something, because Jenny had no cleavage to speak of until she put on the little black bra that Sabina had talked her into. It was truly amazing what a little bit of padding and spandex could do for a girl’s boobs.
Five people had come up to her already and told her she looked amazing and beautiful. But sitting next to Bill and his disapproving glances kind of popped her bubble. Along with the fact that Gabe Raintree seemed impervious to the green-dress kryptonite she was aiming in his direction. He was, apparently, not Superman.
She needed to remember that. He’d told her no, and she ought to accept that and move on. But as the auditorium filled up w
ith paying customers, both in-towners and out-of-towners, she only had eyes for him.
He looked good enough to eat tonight. He’d gotten a haircut, and he’d shaved and almost looked clean-cut, except for the all-black outfit and the tailored leather sport coat. All in all, he conveyed an impression of a brooding, badass author who was slightly tortured.
And she wanted desperately to cook for him, not to mention the other stuff that Lillian Bray wouldn’t approve of.
Of course the whole Bill/Gabe thing wasn’t the only negative dynamic playing itself out at the head table. For some reason, Nita had seated Simon and Molly Wolfe at the table, even though Molly was not a member of the Library Committee. And Simon was staring at Gabe as if he were some kind of ax murderer.
To round it all out, Zeph Gibbs was there wearing a sport jacket and a tie. And he kept looking at Gabe and Simon like he expected the two of them to call each other out at any moment. She’d never seen Zeph so antsy, but maybe that made some sense, given that Gabe was about to get up and talk about how Last Chance was the setting that inspired Black Water. And you couldn’t talk about that novel without talking about its villain, who was possibly one of the most memorable psychopaths ever portrayed.
Of course, Zeph wasn’t crazy like Zebulon Stroud. Everyone in town knew that. But still, it was mighty uncomfortable to be sitting at this table with Zeph there.
“So,” Nita said, jumping into the conversational lull right after everyone took their seats and the chicken dish was being served, “Simon, I’ll bet you remember Mr. Raintree when he was just a little boy. You were friends with his brother, weren’t you? Got any juicy secrets to share?”
Icy cold prickled the back of Jenny’s skull. She’d had the same sensation right before the chicken took flight and landed in Reverend Lake’s lap.
Good heavens. The ghost was here. He wasn’t tied to The Jonquil House. And he didn’t like Nita’s question.
Her pulse rate zoomed, and she had to bite her lip to keep from standing up and warning everyone to leave the auditorium immediately via the emergency exits. What the heck was Nita up to? That question had been loaded, and there was an avid spark in her dark eyes.
To make it worse, Simon looked like he’d been trapped in a spider’s web, with no way out.
Jenny needed to stop Nita before the evening got out of hand or the ghost did something heinous. No doubt, Zeph had been living this reality for decades. And one look in his direction confirmed Jenny’s suspicions. Both Zeph and Gabe sat with rigid shoulders and wide, dark eyes. They knew the ghost was here. And neither of them seemed to know what to do about it.
It was up to Jenny to head off a disaster.
“So, Savannah,” she said, throwing herself into the breach. “You’ve done a wonderful job with The Kismet. And you too Zeph, the lobby restoration is incredible.”
Savannah grinned from ear to ear and started talking about everything that had gone into the restoration of the old movie theater. And of course Savannah could go on and on and on like a broken record on this topic, which made it precisely the right one for the moment. Hettie, Dash, Bill, and Molly all joined in the table discussion, apparently oblivious to the cold and the crisis that had just been averted.
Simon, Zeph, and Gabe remained silent, their heads down, pushing food around their plates, acting like they were eating, when clearly all of them had lost their appetites.
Gabe thought he might vomit. His stomach roiled and twisted. His face went clammy and cold. In a minute, he was going to have to stand up and talk to an auditorium about Black Water. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered him.
But the ghost was right there at his back, practically breathing ectoplasm, or whatever it was that ghosts were made of, down his back.
Meanwhile Nita was looking at him, speculation in her eyes. And Simon was trying not to look at him at all. Gabe got the feeling Simon wished he were anywhere except sitting at this table with Molly between them.
“Excuse me,” Gabe said as he pushed up from the table and headed toward the restrooms. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he was suffering from low blood sugar. But he wasn’t about to take out his monitor and do a blood test with nine pairs of eyes watching him. His diabetes was something he preferred to keep quiet.
And low blood sugar seemed unlikely, since he’d eaten a good lunch and had choked down a few bites of the chicken dinner. Stage fright had never been a problem before. But suddenly, the last thing he wanted was to stand up and give an introduction to the movie version of Black Water.
He headed into one of the stalls, took out his meter, and checked his blood glucose level. He was fine. His rapid pulse and clammy hands had nothing to do with his diabetes. Which made sense, because he had his illness under control.
He stood in the stall for a few minutes before someone else entered. His heart rate climbed even higher. What an idiot. He’d allowed himself to be cornered in the men’s room. He knew better. The house was filled with crazy fans.
“Gabe, it’s Simon. You’ve been in here awhile, and Nita is getting restless.”
Shit. Having to face Simon seemed worse than being cornered by one of his rabid readers. But either way, there was only one exit to this room, and he’d have to face Simon or someone else.
He came out of the stall.
“You okay?” Simon asked.
He needed an excuse so he pulled the meter out of his pocket. He hated using the diabetes this way, but he needed the fig leaf tonight. What the hell was wrong with him? “Just needed to run a quick blood test,” he said, stepping to the sink and washing his hands, trying to avoid the accusation in Simon’s dark eyes.
He pulled a few paper towels out of the dispenser and dried his hands. The silence was growing heavier by the minute.
“Gabe,” Simon said, “I think we need to talk. Clear the air, you know?”
He turned. There was such a look on Simon’s face.
“Clear the air about what?” he said. Sweat was trickling down his back, and he was starting to wonder if his blood tester was faulty.
“About Luke.”
“What about him?”
“About what happened the day he died.”
Gabe stood there riveted to the floor. “You know what happened?”
“I was there. Don’t you remember?”
Gabe was going to be sick. He was going to faint.
“Hey, man, are you okay?” Simon asked.
“You were there?” Gabe’s voice sounded far away to his own ears.
Simon blinked a few times. “Oh, shit, you don’t remember.”
Gabe shook his head. “I don’t remember anything except that I tagged along after Luke and Zeph with my BB gun. Granddad told me to weed the front garden, but I didn’t do as I was told.”
“Holy shit.” Simon turned his back and slapped the wall with an open hand. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Tell me what happened? I’ve been trying to get Zeph to tell me, but he won’t. I have a feeling I’m not going to like the truth.” He leaned up against the wall, but for some odd reason his heart rate was beginning to slow. He’d wanted the truth for ages. He’d wanted to understand that dark hollow place inside.
Simon turned. “I can’t tell you now, you have to—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the library or the speech I’m supposed to give. I want the truth. I want to know why you’re looking at me like I’m evil. Why I’ve always had this feeling that down deep, I was the monster, not Zeph.”
“Zeph isn’t a monster, and you know it.”
“Yeah, I do. And if he’s not and you’re not, then that leaves me.”
Simon shook his head. “No, it makes you human. You were a kid and you were jealous of Luke. All your grandfather ever did was sing Luke’s praises and hold him up to you. I remember. You were never good enough for him. And I know how that feels, believe me. I didn’t have the greatest relationship with my parents either. So you were envious of that stupid rifle…�
�� He paused.
“Yeah, and…”
“So Zeph turned his back and was watching the river and talking about fishing later in the afternoon. He knew Luke hated target shooting. The gun had already been fired a couple of times so that your grandfather would hear it and know that Luke had done as he was told. But Luke was more interested in watching the great blue heron that was feeding by the riverside. And I was bird-watching, too.”
“Which means I was left alone.”
“You were left alone. You don’t remember any of this?”
Gabe stood up straight and wrapped his arms around his chest. His whole body had started to tremble as Simon spoke. It was as if Luke’s boyhood friend had switched on a light, revealing the gruesome reality that Gabe had been running from since he was ten. Gabe closed his eyes and let the horror in.
He remembered the rifle, leaning up against a tree. He remembered his small, fat hand reaching for it. He remembered the weight of the gun in his hands.
“I shot him.” He breathed the words.
“The heron flew off, and Luke turned and saw you with the gun,” Simon said, apparently needing his own catharsis. “I guess he was scared you’d hurt yourself. Or maybe it was just a continuation of the bickering you two used to get into. I don’t know. As a boy I thought it was just Luke being possessive of something that was his, the way he sometimes was. But as a man, I like to think Luke was worried about you hurting yourself. I don’t know, Gabe, honestly. All I know is that he turned and ran toward you and told you to quit playing with his gun, and those were his last words.”
Gabe knew what Simon was going to say before the words left his mouth. The memory of that horrible day tumbled back into his head. His synapses reconnected, and he could almost hear the sound of the gun going off, could almost feel the horrible recoil that knocked him right on his ass. And then the sound of Luke trying to breathe through the horrible hole the gun had made in his chest. He remembered that sound and how it ended in a sigh. He remembered the silence after that.
