The Ghost and the Bride

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “What is it?” Pamela frowned. She had never seen him look at her like this. But then she remembered what Danielle had told her that night. If Kent wasn’t having an affair—if he did love me—maybe he is starting to remember, she wondered.

  “It’s just been a long time.” Without another word, he jerked her to him and gripped her in a steel-like embrace as he forced a rough kiss on her mouth.

  Startled by the assault, Pamela shoved him away, her right hand touching her now injured lips. The kiss—if one could call it that—was nothing like the kisses she remembered.

  “Come on, we are married. It has been a long time,” he growled.

  “I thought you wanted a divorce?”

  “So? We’re still married. And who knows, maybe it will trigger some memory for me. Isn’t that what you want? You keep telling me how in love we were. Show me. Give me your best.”

  “And if…afterwards…you still feel the same?”

  He shrugged. “Then you gave it your best shot. No regrets.”

  Stunned, Pamela stared at Kent and watched as he began taking off his shirt. Just as the shirt came off, Kent flew across the bedroom, lying on the floor next to the bed, unconscious.

  “Wow, Marlow, you have one hell of a right hook,” Kent said, staring at his unconscious body.

  Walt glanced down at his handiwork. “I think he’ll be out for the night.”

  “Thanks for doing that. I really couldn’t stand the thought…well, you know. Him and my wife.”

  Kent and Walt glanced over to Pamela, who remained standing by the closed door. She appeared to be in shock, attempting to process what she had just seen. After a moment, she blinked several times and then slowly approached the unconscious man on the floor. She looked down at him a moment and then reached over and grabbed a blanket from the bed, tossing it over Kent’s body. Without a word, she turned and left the room.

  Walt glanced to the closed bedroom door. He turned to Kent. “You might want to stay here. I doubt he’s going to step out of the body while unconscious, but you never know. If he does, you know what to do.” Walt turned back to the door. “I better go talk to Danielle, let her know what just happened.

  Danielle found Pamela on the front swing, looking out into the dark night. Moments earlier Walt had told her what had happened in the bedroom.

  “Are you okay?” Danielle asked.

  “I don’t know.” Pamela continued to stare out into the night as Danielle sat next to her in the swing.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Oh, Kent had too much to drink. I’ve never seen him like that. He was never much of a drinker. At least, not until after the accident. But tonight…” Pamela shook her head.

  “Tonight what?”

  “He was acting like a fool, and then he stumbled backwards. Passed out. I’m going to just leave him there.” She turned to Danielle. “Do you mind if I sleep on the sofa in the parlor?”

  “Sure, but it’s not very big.”

  “I don’t care. I just don’t want to be in that bedroom when he wakes up.”

  “I have an idea. How about you stay in the attic tonight? It has a nice sofa bed. And I have a feeling Cory will be more than willing to take the parlor sofa.”

  Pamela chuckled. “Well, I would much rather face a ghost than a drunk husband. I’d be happy to sleep in the attic. But…”

  “But what?”

  “I really don’t want Lily to worry about this.”

  “Oh, leave Lily to me. If she asks, I’ll just say Kent had too much to drink and you didn’t want to sleep with him. I don’t think she’ll give it a second thought. It happens. Plus, she’ll have fun teasing Cory about being a chicken. Especially considering how he’s been giving poor Tammy such a hard time.”

  Twenty-Nine

  The sunlight streaming through the opening of the bedroom curtains didn’t wake him. What woke him was when he rolled over and hit his head on what felt like a rock. Grabbing his now injured forehead with one hand, Tagg opened his eyes and found himself looking under a bed. Groaning, he sat up and looked around. His head throbbed, but not from its recent collision with one leg of the bed frame. The throbbing was from all the scotch he had consumed the night before.

  Stumbling to his feet, he looked at the bed. It was empty. He had a vague memory of kissing Pamela, but after that it was all a little foggy. Tagg assumed he had passed out and rolled off the bed. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Making his way to the bathroom, he hoped nothing had happened between him and Pamela the night before. The last thing he needed was for her to get all clinging and drag her feet with a divorce.

  “Rise and shine!”

  Draping his right forearm over his face to shield his eyes from the light, Cory groaned. He wanted the maniac who was chirping rise and shine to shut up and go away. It was either Lily or Laura. He couldn’t tell which one, and he didn’t want to open his eyes to find out.

  His head throbbed from all the drinking he had done the night before—a lethal combination of beer and gin. Just the thought of it made him want to puke. But he didn’t think Danielle would appreciate him messing up her parlor that way. And just why was he sleeping in the parlor, on a sofa too small for his frame, instead of the relatively comfortable sofa bed in the attic?

  “Get up, Cory! You aren’t camping out in here all morning!”

  Now he recognized the voice. It was Lily.

  “Go away,” Cory groaned.

  “Sit up. I have something for you. A little hair of the dog.”

  He thought his sister sounded entirely too cheerful for so early in the morning. However, now that he thought about it—how late was it?

  Begrudgingly, Cory sat up and opened his eyes. “What time is it?” he asked, his voice raspy.

  “Almost nine. Here, drink this.” She shoved what looked like a glass of tomato juice in his face.

  Wrinkling his nose, he tried to push it away. “Leave me alone. It’s too early.”

  “Stop being a baby and drink this. It’ll make you feel better,” Lily insisted.

  Cory warily studied the drink a moment, and realizing Lily was not going to leave, he reluctantly took the glass. “What is it?” he asked before taking a sip.

  “Just something Ian mixed up. He thought you might need it. I gave Pamela a glass for Kent too.”

  Cory downed the drink and then handed the empty glass back to Lily. “Why am I sleeping in here? Was I that drunk I couldn’t climb the stairs?”

  Lily set the empty glass on the coffee table and took a seat on one of the chairs facing her brother. “Don’t you remember? You said a ghost threw a shoe at you.” She grinned.

  Cory closed his eyes for a moment and then groaned. “Now I remember.”

  “So you’ll stop teasing Mom about seeing Grandma?”

  “I must have hit myself with that shoe,” he mumbled as he rubbed his forehead.

  “I suppose that would be one explanation.”

  Cory frowned and leaned back on the sofa. “I remember now, that cop who was here last night—”

  “Which one? There were three here last night.”

  “About that, having a bunch of cops at a bachelor party is a good way to put a damper on the night.”

  Lily arched her brow. “Oh? It didn’t seem to stop you.”

  Cory shrugged. “Kinda hard to get my new brother-in-law a cake with a naked woman inside with a bunch of cops here.”

  “Then I’m grateful they came,” Lily said brightly. “So what were you saying about one of the cops?”

  “The old one…”

  “I suppose you mean Brian.”

  Cory shrugged. “Yeah, that was his name. He and the other one—the police chief, I think—were giving me a hard time about the attic being haunted. When I went upstairs, my imagination must have been working overtime. I suspect it was too much booze.”

  “It serves you right. You shouldn’t have tried hitting poor Max with your shoe.”

>   “The shoe didn’t even hit him…hey, how did you know I threw the shoe at the cat?”

  Instead of answering, Lily just smiled at her brother.

  Scowling at Lily a moment, he finally grumbled, “I must have told you last night. Anyway, the whole thing was just stupid. I must have gimped out and hit myself. I thought you said he couldn’t get in the room if I kept the door shut—which I had. How did he get in?”

  Lily stood up and snatched the empty glass from the coffee table. With a shrug she said, “Walt must have let him in.” Without waiting for her brother’s response, Lily flounced from the room.

  Danielle stepped outside to pick up the morning newspaper when she noticed Brian Henderson walking down the street. He had left his car parked in front of her house overnight, and she assumed he was coming to retrieve it. She was a little surprised he was coming by foot.

  Snatching up the paper from the ground, she made her way to the sidewalk.

  “Morning, Brian,” Danielle greeted him when they met near his parked car.

  “Morning.” He nodded up to the house. “Did everyone survive last night?”

  “Kent has been sitting in the backyard since breakfast, with an ice pack on his head, yet he insists it’s his back that hurts—from the accident he was in.” She chuckled. “Lily’s brother seems much better than he was this morning. He’s now convinced it wasn’t a ghost who attacked him in the attic last night.”

  Brian arched his brow. “Ghost?”

  “It seems someone was giving him a bit of a hard time last night—something about a haunted attic,” Danielle teased.

  “Really?” Brian smiled.

  “Any idea who that might have been?”

  “If someone attacked him, does he want to file a report?” Brian grinned.

  “Last night he claimed to have thrown a shoe at Max. But instead of hitting the cat, the shoe came back and hit him.” Danielle added with a grumble, “Frankly, I would have smacked him myself if I caught him throwing something at my poor cat. Served him right.”

  Brian studied Danielle for a moment, his expression unreadable. “But you didn’t have to. Walt Marlow did it for you.”

  Danielle’s gaze met Brian’s. “Walt is rather fond of Max.”

  They were both silent for a moment, just looking at each other. Finally, Brian said in a quiet voice, “He’s fond of you too, isn’t he?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You didn’t hit Renton over the head with that statue, did you?”

  Danielle shook her head.

  Brian chuckled and then asked, “It was Walt Marlow’s ghost that got the gun away from Christiansen, wasn’t it?”

  Danielle smiled softly. “No. That time it wasn’t Walt.”

  Marlow House was a hive of activity on Friday as the final preparations for the Saturday morning wedding were underway. Everyone pitched in to help—except for the Kent impostor, who retreated to a patio chair in the backyard and claimed one of his injuries from the accident had flared up, causing him pain. Everyone suspected the pain he was experiencing had nothing to do with the car accident and more to do with the copious amount of scotch he had consumed the night before. However, no one—at least those who didn’t know the truth about his identity—faulted him for his binge, considering all that he had been through in the past year. As far as they were concerned, it had been his first chance to cut loose, and he simply had overdone it.

  While Pamela—who was unaware of the body swap—didn’t fault him for his indulgence, his behavior before passing out troubled her. A stranger had kissed her the night before. It was in that moment she realized her marriage was truly over.

  “This has been one crazy day, Walt,” Danielle said as she sat at her vanity, putting on her makeup. After working all day to get the house in shape for tomorrow, the wedding party was going to a restaurant for the rehearsal dinner.

  “And tomorrow our Lily will be married,” Walt said with a sigh as he sat on the end of the bed.

  “You make it sound like she’s our child,” Danielle teased.

  “You have to admit Lily can be childlike.”

  “And she can be fierce too,” Danielle reminded him.

  “Fiercely loyal.”

  Danielle swung around on the bench and faced Walt. “I’m glad she’s just moving across the street, but I have to admit I will miss having her live here.”

  Walt smiled softly. “Me too.”

  They were silent for a moment. Finally, Danielle said, “I still can’t get over what Brian said.”

  “I suppose I shouldn’t have made him spill his beer.”

  “Why did you do that, anyway?”

  Walt shrugged. “He annoyed me.”

  “Those anger management issues we were talking about?” Danielle teased.

  Walt shrugged again.

  “It’s so bizarre. When he asked me if you were the one who got the gun away from Christiansen, and I said no, I expected him to ask me questions, but he just looked at me like he was going to ask me something and then changed his mind. He just shook his head and said he didn’t want to know. And then he got in his car and drove off.”

  “Sometimes there is only so much a person can process at once.”

  “I suppose…” Danielle let out a sigh. “And then with Cory. He’s convinced he imagined it all, that he threw the shoe and in his drunken state if flipped back and hit him.”

  “And what do you think our impostor thinks?”

  “What do you mean?” Danielle frowned.

  “I did hit him last night. He was out cold.”

  “That was one instance I’m grateful you didn’t hold back. But I suspect, like Cory, he just thinks he had too much to drink last night. But I’m not really sure. He hasn’t said anything.”

  “I’ll be glad when he’s out of this house. They’re leaving Sunday?” Walt asked.

  “They’re scheduled to leave here Sunday morning. I’m curious if he intends to stay in Portland like you overheard him telling Pamela he might. I sure hope so. The thought of her staying with him any longer makes my skin crawl.”

  Thirty

  Walt stood with Kent’s spirit at the attic window, watching Lily’s and Ian’s family members file into the vehicles parked in front of Marlow House. They were on their way to a local Italian restaurant for the rehearsal dinner.

  “I wish you could go with us, Walt,” Danielle said from the attic doorway.

  Walt turned to Danielle with a smile. “Have fun.”

  “Thanks.” Danielle looked to Kent. “Are you staying here with Walt?”

  “Just for a while. But I’ll be there shortly. I want to keep an eye on Pamela and that man. I won’t feel comfortable until they’re divorced and he’s out of her life.”

  “I’m really sorry, Kent,” Danielle said. “I wish there was something we could do.”

  “I understand there’s really nothing I can do to get my old life back. But if they really are getting a divorce, that’s something. I just want her happy and safe.”

  After Danielle left the attic a few minutes later, Kent asked Walt, “How do you do it, stay in this house day after day, year after year?”

  “I can leave if I want. Of course, once I step out that door, I can’t come back.”

  “Are you sure?” Kent asked.

  Peering out the window, Walt watched as Danielle got into Chris’s car with him. “Positive. It’s the deal I’ve made.”

  Kent frowned. “I don’t understand?”

  “You will when you decide to move on.”

  “Although I do envy you your talents. You have no idea how many times I wanted to give that impostor a good beating. But I can’t even move a feather.”

  “No, but you have the freedom to go where you want—plus, you’re not technically dead. When Lily and Chris had their out-of-body experiences, they couldn’t—as Danielle calls it—harness any energy. It appears someone in your state is strictly an observer.”

  “If I�
�m not technically dead, how will I ever move on?”

  Walt shrugged. “I’m not sure how that all works, but from what Eva told Danielle, it will be possible when you’re ready—and as long as someone is inhabiting your body.”

  “I just wish, before I moved on, there was some way I could make Pamela understand that I never stopped loving her. That the man who she thinks is her husband isn’t me.”

  Walt started to say something and then paused. He looked at Kent, a smile forming on his lips. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

  “Think of what?” Kent frowned.

  “Another dream hop. It will give you the chance to talk to Pamela before you move on, explain things. Help her understand.”

  “But she’ll just think it’s a dream.”

  “Perhaps, but what will it hurt? And there might be some way for us to make her believe it wasn’t simply a dream. Let me think about it.”

  Ian had booked the private room in Mama Genovese’s Italian Restaurant for the rehearsal dinner.

  The entire rehearsal back at Marlow House had lasted less than twenty minutes. It began with the bridesmaids and grooms walking down the staircase, two at a time. Then Lily walked down the stairs with her father. Instead of the traditional wedding march, they had chosen Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwo’ole’s rendition of “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” Lily knew the song lasted just under three and a half minutes, and she wanted to reach Ian just before the song ended. It took just two tries for her to figure out the correct pace, with Pamela reducing the volume at the precise moment to create a fade-out of the music.

  Police Chief MacDonald, who was officiating, ran through his lines just one time. Ian had written the ceremony, with Lily’s input, and they had intentionally kept it brief.

  Dinner at Mama Genovese’s Italian Restaurant included Ian and Lily handing out gifts to the members of the wedding party, their parents, and to each other. After a round of toasts—started by Ian’s best man, his father, Ian stood up and said, “Tomorrow at this time, Lily and I will be on our way to Hawaii. I just wanted to say how much both Lily and I appreciate you all coming this week. It’s been wonderful we were able to spend this time together. So thank you, everyone.”