Haunting Refrain

by Mary Marvella

  “And they’d better not find out from you.” She stepped back from temptation.

  “Better not find out what?” Sarah’s father asked as he handed William a beer and Sarah a glass of wine.

  She emptied the glass in four fast swallows. Coughs wracked her body for seconds.

  William came to her rescue. “We’ve been planning something special for your anniversary. Sarah is concerned that you or Mrs. O. will find out. But I won’t let the cat out of the bag.”

  Sarah wished she had sipped her wine. She needed something to wet her now-dry mouth. “Yeah, Dad, William’s been working as hard on the plans as I have. He never does anything halfway.”

  When her dad placed his hand on William’s shoulder, the affection between the two men warmed her heart. Her dad was proud of William, as well he should be. Her parents had often called William the son they would have adopted, if they’d had a choice.

  How would her parents feel if they knew the man they treated like a son had taken their daughter’s virginity last night? Would her dad have a shotgun discussion with him? Lord, she hoped not.

  Sarah lost the mushy feeling when she heard a tenor voice singing nearby. “What in the world?” Sarah turned toward the kitchen in time to see Eloise rush through the closed door. She had dressed for the occasion. Her arms pushed up the shoulder pads of her fitted dress as her hands covered her ears.

  “Damned Jacksons think they can sing. This one’s no exception.” The ghost shuddered. “Think they can win a woman’s heart with a song or two.”

  “Can they - he?” Sarah asked.

  “Can they what?” Sarah’s dad asked. “I think I missed something, honey.”

  “I was just thinking out loud.” Sarah glanced at William, who looked around the room, then back at her. He raised his eyebrows. Don’t see my ghost, do you? She shrugged, then glanced toward Eloise, who paced in front of the door.

  Her dad moved from William’s side to hers. He looked pointedly to her empty glass. “Peter was right about the wine. I didn’t think you were so crazy about white. However, he insisted we open the bottle he brought since it goes with the clam sauce he’s helping make. “Refill?”

  Did she dare? Nah, she needed her mind clear for this dinner so she wouldn’t trip over her own tongue.

  William moved to put his arm around Sarah’s shoulders. “Since when does Mom need help with any kind of sauce? She already makes the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  “The boy said he wanted to help her, and you know how much she enjoys company in the kitchen.” Sarah’s daddy took her empty glass and left the room.

  Eloise stood with her hands on her hips. Her open toed high-heeled shoe tapping a staccato beat. Sarah could swear she actually heard the tapping.

  William looked in the direction of the noise and shook his head. “Princess, do we still have company?” he mumbled against her hair.

  “Uh, huh. Eloise looks fit to be tied. She doesn’t like Peter’s singing.”

  Eloise walked toward Sarah and William. “Well, do you?” she asked. Eloise looked at William as though she expected an answer.

  “She wants to know if you like his singing.” Sarah muttered.

  Sarah could feel his smile against her hair. “Tell her I don’t like a damned thing about the pretty boy.”

  “Me, either!” Eloise said. “I told you our William had a good head on his shoulders.”

  Sarah’s headache returned with a vengeance. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

  Mattie floated through the wall beside the door to the kitchen. “I heard that. I said our William had a good head on his shoulders.” Her voice was uncharacteristically petulant.

  Eloise laughed. “Does it matter who said it first, Mattie? I said he had a great ass. I wouldn’t mind if you repeated it. Lighten up.”

  Sarah ground her teeth. She leaned back against William who wrapped his arms around her. “Unless my ghosts want me to be taken away to the crazy house, they won’t expect me to respond to them with people around.”

  Eloise and Mattie surrounded the couple. Mattie touched Sarah’s arm. “We just wanted to protect you. Ignore us if you want to.”

  William felt someone smooth his hair. If he didn’t know better he’d think someone stood beside him and Sarah. Her stories of ghosts must be getting to him. The singing in the kitchen stopped. Sarah stirred in his arms and he let her move away.

  “Coming through,” the sissy voice of a stranger called. “It’s hot and it’s good!” Peter Jackson placed a platter of pasta and opened clamshells on the table.

  The jerk moved to Sarah and kissed her cheek. William wanted to snatch him away from his Sarah.

  His shit-eating smile made William want to strangle him with the large apron he removed.

  “I'll help mom.” Sarah turned toward the door. Her mother breezed in carrying a steaming bowl of sauce. Garlic and other spices wafted in with the scents of seafood and hot yeast-bread.

  “Mom, what can I get?” She followed her to the door.

  Her mom paused and turned toward her. “Not a thing, dear. Just entertain our guest chef and William.”

  Easy for you to say.

  Sarah’s mom left, then returned with a cloth-covered basket and a tray of salad dressing boats.

  Sarah’s dad followed her with a large salad bowl and a bottle of wine.

  “Son, will you get the iced tea pitchers and the ice bucket from the kitchen?” he asked as he passed William.

  William left the tension of the dining room. He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  Something had told him Sarah would need him tonight. Dining with Peter Jackson had been the last thing he had expected. The room had been full of strange undercurrents. If the ghosts were really around, as Sarah believed, she might need rescuing.

  How would her parents and Peter react if she started talking to people they couldn’t see? The crystal pitchers glistened with moisture as soon as he took them from the refrigerator. He wanted to rub them across his forehead.

  “Get a move on, son.” William nearly dropped the cool pitchers. Sarah’s dad picked up a wine bucket and an ice bucket. William hadn’t heard the man come into the room.

  “Let’s eat before everything gets cold.”

  William followed his host back into the haunted dining room. He took a place across from Sarah, since the uninvited guest had claimed the chair beside her. What would everyone have said if he had crowded a chair between them?

  Sarah’s dad, at the head of the table, tossed the salad, then filled each person’s bowl. Sarah’s mom knew how to put together an interesting salad. The croutons were always fresh and homemade. This time she had outdone herself.

  “Great salad.” She blushed when she looked to Peter.

  “The nuts were Peter’s idea. Try the raisin dressing. Peter made that, too.”

  “It was nothing.” Peter gave his hostess a fawning look that said he wanted her to be his mother-in-law.

  Over my dead body, or preferably his. William’s emotions boiled.

  Sarah pushed her salad around her bowl. No one else seemed to notice. Peter would make some woman a great wife if he always cooked so well. Everything he had been credited with preparing tasted like sawdust to William.

  Sarah’s parents and Peter ate like they were starved. The meal was going well, in spite of the tension in the room.

  Peter rubbed his neck, as though something brushed it. A ghost?

  “Something wrong, Jackson, old man?” William asked.

  Peter slapped at his neck again. “Nothing.” He wiggled. Ants in his pants?

  Sarah wound her pasta around her fork in a wad much too large for her mouth. What was distracting her? He followed her gaze. What was she seeing? Peter’s plate seemed to move toward the edge of the table. An illusion?

  William glanced at Sarah in time to see her gasp, then cover her mouth with her hand. She half rose from her chair. Peter’s full plate flipped onto his lap.

 
What just happened? He wanted to laugh at the pompous yuppie clone. He couldn’t believe what he‘d just seen.

  “Dammit!” Peter jumped from his chair, knocking it to the floor. “What the hell?”

  Sarah glared at something or maybe someone beside the angry man. She had seen what he had. He felt it in his bones.

  Mrs. O. rushed to Peter’s side to help Sarah clean up.

  Sarah’s dad hurried to the kitchen. “I’ll get towels.”

  Peter looked like he brushed aside helping hands, more than William could see. The ghosts at work again?

  The guy was putting on a great show. What happened to Mr. Smiley-and-helpful?

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Sarah muttered.

  “Well, I certainly didn’t do it on purpose!” Peter picked pasta from his expensive-looking slacks.

  “Not you, stupid, I meant ---“

  “Sarah,” her mother scolded.

  While everyone else looked at Sarah, William caught movement on the table. Peter’s wineglass rose and emptied on his head.

  “What the hell?” Peter raised his head and wiped at his dripping hair. “Who…” He frowned at William.

  William shrugged. He heard his own surprised voice. “Bumped the table?” This is too good for words.

  Sarah scowled at him. “Not me,” he mouthed.

  Sarah still scowled.

  Her mother came to Peter’s rescue. “Peter, dear, come with me to the guest bath.” She took him by the arm. “You may clean up while I get dessert ready.”

  She looked pointedly at her husband. “Dear, could you get Peter something dry to wear? I’ll launder his clothes later.”

  She patted Peter’s arm. “Everything’ll be all right.”

  Within seconds Sarah and William were alone in the dining room. Both knelt as they cleaned bits of food from the floor. Sarah looked ready to burst.

  “The ghosts?” William whispered.

  “You saw?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure what I saw.”

  “Go help Peter in the bathroom.” She waved at nothing.

  “What? He’s a grown man. Besides, your dad’s getting him clean clothes.”

  “Not you, stup.., William.”

  “I know you were talking to the ghosts.”

  “You two ladies could scare the hell out of him. Maybe make him wet himself. He could tell everyone the house is haunted and take the pressure off me. That should make him leave me alone.”

  When Sarah’s dad entered, William and Sarah looked up from the floor. Both fell silent.

  “Gee, what a mess. Am I interrupting something, kids?”

  How much had he heard from the other side of the door? They had been talking softly but --

  “You can get up and leave the rest of the cleaning ‘til later. Mother said Peter can sit beside William during dessert.”

  Sarah stared at William. Her eyebrow rose. Her eyes narrowed. She mouthed, ”Behave yourself.”

  William shrugged, then mouthed, ”I didn’t do anything. Tell your ghosts.”

  William heard voices coming from the kitchen. “You look fine, Peter. Let’s have dessert. Then you can leave, if you still want to. Come on.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll bring those dishes and the sauce to put away,” Peter the wimp said.

  William suppressed a laugh. Sarah’s dad’s clothes swallowed Peter. He looked like a dork.

  The dessert presentation must have been a la Peter. Someone had drizzled a thick red sauce on the slices of cheesecake. Strawberry halves surrounded a mound of whipped cream to form a flower on each slice.

  The thing William liked most about dessert was that he could watch Sarah. No more food or wine left on the table to land on Peter. The poor man looked ready to bolt. What did he expect to happen next?

  “I insist on helping you tend to the dishes.” Peter didn’t sound convincing, though he rose and gathered dessert plates.

  He sniffed. “Sarah, was something wrong with the sauce? You hardly ate anything.”

  Sarah’s plate looked barely touched.

  “Everything was good, Peter, especially the sauce. I’m just tired. Haven’t been sleeping well lately. I think I’m ready for some time away from the students.”

  Peter grabbed for her plate.

  William stood also and neatly whisked the plate away. “Can’t allow that, Jackson, old man. You helped the cook. Sarah and I’ll clean up.”

  “We will?”

  “Sure, Princess. Your folks need to relax and we certainly know how, don’t we?”

  “We do?” Sarah glared at William.

  “It won’t be the first time we’ve played with the hose in the kitchen.” He grinned.

  “Yes I’d love to grab that hose.” She ran her tongue over her lips. “I always liked drinking from the hose.” William was so aroused he had to hide behind the table.

  “I guess I could let you handle it,” He paused for effect. “if you’re careful.

  “We certainly could clean things up, couldn’t we? For mom, of course.”

  He enjoyed the odd look Peter gave them. Her parents seemed oblivious to the undercurrents in the room.

  By the time Mr. and Mrs. O. showed Peter to the door, there should be no doubt in the jerk’s mind about William’s claim.

  “Don’t look so smug!” She gave him an I’ll-get-you-for-that look. I think she’s mad.

  ##

  Sarah couldn’t decide whether to yell at the meddling ghosts or at William for his territorial behavior. She did want to know what William had seen. There was no question he had seen something odd.

  Sarah’s parents bade William and her goodnight with hugs and kisses. Her dad had hugged the young William, but tonight he punched William’s shoulder while Sarah’s mom kissed his cheek before they left to retire for the night. William seemed to enjoy the affection.

  William dried the fine crystal while Sarah washed, except when he nuzzled her neck, or when he ran his big hands down her hips, or when he cupped her breasts from behind.

  Sarah placed the last glass on the drain, afraid his playfulness would make her drop it. Grabbing the sprayer she turned it on him. “What if my parents come in and catch you mauling me.”

  He laughed, pushing her hands behind her back. “They’ll find out I want their daughter.” He backed her against the sink, then lifted her to the counter. With one hand he held her chin, while the other pulled down on the straps of her sundress. He kissed the swells of her breasts.

  She sighed. He took one needy nipple in his mouth, rubbing his tongue around the peak. She groaned.

  “They’ll learn their daughter wants me, too.” William moved to suckle her other nipple. He raised his head and stood between her legs, pulling her to the counter edge.

  With each, open-mouthed kiss he placed on her throat, the tug between her thighs grew. With each spasm she drifted farther and farther from reality. William became her world. His mouth worked magic and her hunger for him grew. With both hands she grasped his face and kissed him. Their tongues mated, dancing around each other, rubbing and building her need for more.

  She pulled away when she heard a female voice. “There they go again.”

  Chapter Eight

  “No damned privacy in my own house.” Sarah closed her eyes. She wanted to burrow into William’s warmth. Her deep slow breath against his shoulder brought his clean scent. His voice rumbled against her ear, so comforting. So much more. If only they could have some time alone without escaping next door. If only ---

  Mattie’s discreet throat-clearing sounded much too close for comfort. Eloise’s throaty laugh was even worse. There was so much knowing behind the sound. At least Mattie would never ask personal questions or want all the intimate details. The whole situation would be funny if it weren’t so weird. As a matter of fact, it was funny.

  “Princess, something wrong? Are you laughing?”

  She nodded against his chest, shaking with mirth.

  “Am I so amusi
ng? Damn, I thought I was sexy, at least.”

  ##

  Peter backed down the Overby’s front steps to the sidewalk. “Thanks for including me tonight,” he called to Sarah’s parents. “Supper was wonderful, even if I did wear part of it. Sorry I made such a mess. Don’t know what got into me.”

  Mrs. Overby waved from the door. Nice lady, she’ll be a perfect mother-in-law.

  “Thanks for helping me in the kitchen, Peter. You’re a great help and a good cook.”

  The family was not what he had expected. He’d been raised on tales about the greedy Overby family.

  What the hell had happened at supper? He couldn’t have dumped his plate and his own wine on himself. He could think about that later. For now he had to make his exit as graceful as possible. He had to get his nice-guy image back.

  “I promise to be neater next time.” He turned and walked away. His thoughts turned to Sarah. What was wrong with her? She’dd accepted his invitation to dinner and then forgotten all about it. The flowers he’d sent had cost a fortune and she hadn’t even thanked him. So unlike his Sarah. He had to help her lose that professor, though. Maybe a romantic dinner in Atlanta, too much to drink, and a nice hotel room would loosen her up and get her into his bed.

  He smiled. He’d been complimented on his bedroom talents since Mrs. Ethridge, his best friend’s mom, had seduced him on his sixteenth birthday. Like a sixteen-year old boy had to be seduced. God, she’d kept him busy for their six-month affair. Then she’d moved on to another of her son’s friends.