Justine mulled this over for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip.
"No, with my mom it's not like that. I don't even think she likes me anymore." She thought of telling him about the unnerving email she had received from her father, feeling that she could trust him, but decided against it until she had seen her mother and made sure that she was alright.
"I'm sure she likes you, shit, I'd be willing to bet that she even loves you." Patrick nicked at her chin playfully--an action that brought the results he had hoped for, her brilliant, glowing smile. Her eyes locked with his and seemed to drown in him. His smile slowly turned into a look of intent seriousness.
"You're beautiful, Justine." His voice was warm, like the rays of the summer sun on an early morning. She tried not to blush, and wasn't sure whether or not she had succeeded.
"I have to go. You need sleep," he said with finality.
With her green eyes locked on his, Patrick stood up again and stretched his long, casually sexy body before kneeling down and offering her a hand up. Their entwined hands closed the distance between them as their lips descended sweetly, hotly upon each other. Patrick drew her tightly against his body, Justine folded herself into him falling into the kiss, into the heat and the feeling of being wanted.
Before she was ready, Patrick stepped back breaking the searing kiss.
"Damn it, I really have to go," his voice was raspy with emotion.
Justine detected the anger in his voice. His eyes softened with his thoughts. She was the first woman that he hadn't wanted to rush, that he wanted to savor and he would be damned if he would take advantage of her after she had been drinking.
Gently he kissed her again, hoping to carry the warmth of that simple but sweet kiss, and the complicated feelings that lay coiled tightly in his stomach home to his bed where he would sleep warmly all night. It was an effort to release her delicate little hand, but he did as he headed to the door.
"Sleep well, beautiful, gods knows you deserve it."
"Patrick?" Her soft voice instantly stopped him at the door. He turned and stared into those bottomless green eyes of hers, still mystified by her brains, her charm, and her beauty. Willing himself to stay put at the door, forcing himself to be a gentlemen, he turned,
"Yes?" The room was dead quiet as Justine mustered up the courage, struggling within herself for words that should be simple but were not.
"Are you free tomorrow?"
"Yes," he said glancing at his feet, "I am."
"I have to go see, well, go do some things in the morning. But maybe tomorrow afternoon we could check out Timberbrook together. I'd like to have one last conversation with Madeleine."
"Timberbrook?" He paused, shifting slightly from one leg to the next.
"I was thinking more like shooting some pool."
Justine wondered for a moment, "Both?" She paused, "Timberbrook first, than pool."
"Sounds great, what time shall I pick you up?"
"Three o'clock, I'm sure my mother will have driven me insane a few hours before that."
"Sounds good, babe, I'll see you then."
And with that he was gone, but unlike their last nightly encounter, Justine didn't feel alone, but excited and, well, wonderfully warm. She carried that warmth with her to bed and slept solidly like a baby through the night.
Chapter Seven
It was 11:00 A.M. by the time Justine arrived at her mother's house. It was a comfortable home, full of Justine's happy childhood memories. The house was neither large nor small--a typical dwelling for a hard working middle class American family.
Justine gazed at the house quietly for a few moments before getting out the car. It hurt her to realize that there was a time, even less than three years ago, when she would have practically run out of the car excited to see her mother to share her company. The uneasy shift between the two of them had started shortly after Justine's father had died two years ago, which also coincided with the time Justine decided to get her degree in Parapsychology.
In her own way Justine felt that she had let her mother down. For so many years Alice had expected Justine to become a famous classic violinist, but the one dream she had after Justine's father had passed had been shot down by the only daughter she had. Justine knew that was how her mother really felt, but she also knew that she had to make her own choices in life.
It was time to stand up to her mother, to say things that would probably hurt both of them, to forcibly--if need be--forge some type of peace between the two of them. Justine resolutely marched up to the front door of the house, her posture stiff with importance.
"Here I come, Momma," she mumbled under her breath.
After she had already knocked on the door three times with no answer, Justine dug out the old key that she kept in the small zippered compartment of her purse. She eased the door open and stood astounded, staring at the home’s complete state of disarray. Alice had always been a tidy housekeeper, bordering on being a neat freak.
Justine's heart dipped nervously as she called out for her mother.
"Momma, where are you?"
The empty house didn't give her any answers. Justine traveled into the kitchen to find what looked to be several days’ worth of dirty dishes in the sink. The floor at her feet was dirty with sticky reddish spills dotting it, apparently dripped from the counter and meandering to the living room entrance.
The living room wasn't too bad; a few piles of what Justine assumed was clean laundry had been left on the couch ignored and unfolded, along with several paperback books on the coffee table, it, too, had the same sticky substance as the spills from the kitchen counter to the living room.
Justine ignored the rest of the house and went directly to her mother's bed room where she found a loudly snoring Alice Ramsey.
"Mom," she said shaking her mother on the shoulder. "Wake up!"
Alice waved Justine away mumbling a jumble of words that made no sense.
"Mom! Wake up!"
"Go away, Justine, Mommy's tired,” she admonished, her eyes still closed. “There's cereal in the cupboard for your breakfast." Justine's heart dipped. She quickly pulled the sheets off of her mother who was covered in sweat--which lent to a rank odor. Her mother's long body was thin in the sweatpants and t-shirt that she wore.
"Oh, what are you doing to yourself?" Justine said more to herself that to her mother, whom she was sure was not really listening.
"Get up, Mom, you need a shower and your sheets need to be washed." When her mother still continued to mumble incoherently and wave her away, Justine headed down stairs intending to make some coffee.
She rifled through the kitchen knowing with her “daughter’s intuition” exactly where everything was kept. There was a half of a tin of coffee but no coffee filters. Another bad sign, considering that ever since Justine had been a small child her mother had drank coffee every single morning. Justine used a paper towel as the coffee filter, folding it into an awkward but suitable shape, and brewed a nice, strong pot. While the coffee was brewing she emptied the sink of dirty dishes and ran the soapy water to wash them because the dish washer had filled up quickly with dirty dishes. She dropped the worst of the dishes into the hot water to soak before heading back to her mother's bedroom with a mug of hot coffee.
Justine set the coffee cup on the nightstand before nudging her mother again. This time Alice rolled over onto her back and blinked her eyes open slowly. For a moment mother and daughter simply stared at one another.
Justine ran a loving hand over her mother's brow.
"Momma, I love you, please wake up."
Alice yawned before struggling into a sitting position. Justine handed her the cup of coffee which she accepted gratefully.
"Justine, what are you doing here?", she asked, after taking a few sips.
"I was worried about you, Mom, and from the looks of it, I had good reason."
"I'm fine, baby girl,” she tried to reassure her daughter. “I just get a little lonely and sad
"Mom, how often do you drink?" The question was asked in a steady voice that Justine hoped didn't sound accusing.
Her mother's eyes uneasily looked away, before they landed on her hands wrapped around the warm coffee mug.
"Just a little, Justine, sometimes at night. Nights are so hard with you and your father gone. I can't sleep unless I have some wine."
"So it's not every night?" She paused a beat, "Mom, your house is a mess, and I've never seen you keep a messy house. Never."
"I've just been so tired lately, Justine. It's hard to get out of bed. I have nothing to look forward to."
"Mom, have you ever considered getting a parttime job? I know you don't need the money, but it would give you something to do."
Alice stared at Justine for a moment before replying.
"What would I do with a job?"
Justine’s answer bounced off her tongue quickly, "Meet people, have something to look forward to, a reason to get out of bed."
When her mother still looked unconvinced, Justine said, "Dad wouldn't want to see you like this, Mom. And he does watch you. Do it for dad."
Justine realized that her last sentence was a low blow but she wouldn't allow herself to feel guilty for it.
"Yeah, maybe, I could do that," the older woman offered.
Justine finished up the dishes while her mother took a shower and then threw her bed sheets into the washer while she helped her mother tidy up the rest of the house. Before she left, Justine hugged her mother tightly,
"I love you, Mom, I'll call you later and I'll see you in a few days. Start looking for an easy part-time job Mom. Some of us on earth still need you." Chapter Eight
Promptly at three in the afternoon, Patrick showed up at Justine's door, smiling happily. The two of them quickly set off to Timberbrook, both excited with anticipation. They made small talk on the short trip there.
Timberbrook looked as lonely and empty as it had the first time Justine had been there. The building rattled almost welcomingly with their soft foot steps, as Justine lead Patrick to the chamber. She stopped to point to the wall where the message from Madeleine had appeared. The wall was blank now, but Justine could still feel the rush of energy from when she had seen it previously. Suddenly cold air rushed up behind the two investigators, the drop in temperature startling them both. When they turned around, there stood the beautiful ghost of Madeleine La Rue, on her face a warm, soft smile.
"Thank you." Her voice came out with the clarity of the living. Justine couldn't help but reach out to the child while Patrick stood there in stunned amazement.
"I have to go now."
And just as quickly as she had entered, Madeleine was gone. But in the air she had left a gift of warmth and love that surrounded both Justine and Patrick as they slowly left the building hand in hand.
It eased Justine to know that finally, young Madeline was at peace because her mystery--after thirty years--had been served. Justine put thoughts of Madeline out of her mind and looked forward to the evening with Patrick.
The spring night was balmy with the sweet smell of hydrangeas wafting in the air. Patrick casually held Justine's small hand in his own larger one, he had severely kicked her butt at pool, but was trying his hardest not to be smug about it.
The two of them entered Justine's tidy apartment and silently sat on the overstuffed sofa. At a loss for words, they stared at each other quietly, the inches between their lips slowly diminishing. Maybe it's the full moon, Justine pondered, or the wonderful blooming of spring, but she felt more than ready to take her budding relationship with Patrick to the next level.
They enfolded one another, eager for the other’s touch and silky warmth. Falling easily into each other, they made love on Justine's couch, with the windows open and the full moon glowing through quietly.
Patrick held Justine quietly in his arms afterward, gently kissing the top of her head and marveling at the happiness he felt when he was with her.
Finally though, he carefully eased himself off of the couch and kissed her one last time before leaving her apartment and locking the door behind him.
*****
The next morning brought in a violent Florida thunder storm, as Mother Nature proclaimed her potent reign. Justine watched the wind whip through the palm trees swaying them dramatically from the dry confines on her sliding glass door. The rain shot horizontally up the street as the lightning split segments of the sky with blinding light, its brother, the thunder giving off his rebellious roar causing the earth to rumble back loudly.
Justine glanced at the time, 9:30. She wanted to call her mother, but feared talking on the phone in such a violent lightning storm. She chuckled to herself over how absurd that seemed. After all, she played with ghosts for a living. She carried her coffee over to the couch and sat back, cuddling up to a book. Unable to concentrate, the words she read seemed to blur.
Justine did not want to admit to herself that her mother was an alcoholic, because it was her mother, the woman she had always admired and adored. At least for the most part of her life anyway. This was the same woman who could instantly crush her with a few sinister words casually thrown her way. How had things gone so wrong?
To add to her burden of thoughts, Justine wondered if maybe she drank too often herself. Although she only had a few drinks at time, since she had started working for Spectrum the drinking was happening nearly every night.
Trying to brush away her thoughts into the ebbing storm, she considered taking a shower but, once again, the thought of lightning, this time accompanied by water, ran through her mind. She easily giggled off her superstitions as the words to an old White Snake song came to mind.
"I wanna superstitious woman, and she got a superstitious mind…"
Justine belted out the tune while taking her shower as she listened to the storm abate. Her thoughts quickly drifted to Patrick and the magical night they had shared together. He had been so gentle and yet so vibrant, his skin taught under her hands. It was wonderfully sad but also exciting to note that she missed him already.
After she finished dressing, Justine picked up the phone to call her mother. When there was no answer, Justine wasn't sure if she was more frustrated or worried. She stomped through the apartment, gathering her purse and car keys, all the while reproaching herself for being so worried over what could turn out to be nothing.
"Justine."
The blood in her body seem to freeze and stop circulating. The voice was warm and familiar, and shouldn't have been one bit frightening. However, the person to whom the voice belonged to shouldn't be able to speak any longer!
"Justine, it's me, Daddy." The voice was coming very close behind her as she stood at her front door.
"Daddy?"
She spun around hoping to see him, to hug him, all the while knowing that was one wish that could never be granted.
"Hey baby. I've been trying to contact you."
She heard the lovely familiar pleasant tone her father's voice always seemed to carry.
"Daddy, where are you? Oh Daddy, I can't see you!" Her voice shook with sadness as tears immediately started to stream down her face.
"I'm here, standing right behind you. I've always known, Justine, that you had the gift, I know because I had it, too. I'm sorry baby, I should have never discouraged you from following your given path. I should have told you, tried to make some sense of it for you." Justine's knees melted as she slid to the floor, cross legged and overwhelmed with emotions.
"I'm so proud that you, Justine, my little girl, is an intelligent, successful, beautiful woman. Oh, I've missed you so much, Justine." When her father's voice cracked heavy with emotion along with hers, a dam of sorrow broke through her heart.
"I've missed you too, Daddy." The words seemed simple, inadequate even, isolated from her feelings. There was so much more to be said. The emotions clogging in her mind left her stumbling for words.
"Justine, you need to watch out for yo
ur mother. I know you went to visit her a few days ago, but you need to keep checking in on her. She drinks so much, Justine, she's just slowly killing herself. Please take care of her for me, baby. No matter how much I love her, and miss being with her, it's not her time yet."
"I know, Daddy, I'm sorry, I've been so caught up with work that I haven't taken the time to check in on her like I should. I'm so sorry." The hot tears rushed lashing at her face relentlessly.
"It's okay, Justine, it's not your fault. You're a responsible girl and I hate to put this on you, but I have to." He sighed and paused with regret.
"I have to go, baby girl, but I love you, Justine, and I watch you every day. I can't talk to your mother, she doesn't share our gift, but I can talk to you. I'll be back soon."
"Daddy?" She paused, hoping and waiting to hear him answer. "Daddy, don't go!" The dead silence of the room was the only answer she was given.
Several minutes later, Justine struggled to her feet, and after cleaning up her face, quickly headed out the door.
The sun had finally pushed away the storm, but the air with so thick with humidity it created a wall of moisture that instantly makes one feel sticky. Her mother's house was a welcoming sight as she noticed the colorful curtains were parted and the windows open.
Before Justine could even knock on the front door, her mother flung it open. The huge smile on her face instantly wiped away Justine's sorrow.
"Justine! I got a job!"
Before Justine could even reply, Alice drew her into a warm hug.
"You were right, I did need something to do. You're such a smart girl." Her mother backed up, eagerly waving Justine in.
"That's great, Mom! Where did you find it?" She walked in and casually dropped her purse on the kitchen counter. She felt reassured when she noticed the house smelled of clean polish and sparkled like a brand new penny.
Alice wrung her hands unconsciously.
"Well, it's nothing near as important as yours. I never went to college or anything," Alice paused, eyeing her daughter with excitement.
"I'm cashiering at the grocery store. And I love it! I started yesterday." There was an eccentric glow to her mother's eyes, but she appeared to be sober and clean.
Journey of Souls (The Mortality Series) Page 7
