The Ghost and the Bride

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “You heard?” Brian asked when he opened the door a few minutes later. Not waiting for a response, he turned from Joe, walking back toward the kitchen.

  “I wanted to check and see if you’re okay.” Joe walked into the house and shut the front door. He followed Brian.

  “Want a beer?” Brian opened his refrigerator.

  “Sure. How are you doing?”

  Brian handed Joe a beer and then took one for himself. He elbowed the refrigerator door closed. “Ask me that tomorrow after I get buried in paperwork, psych evaluation and all the typical bullshit that goes with shooting a perp.” Popping his beer can open, Brian wandered back into his living room, Joe trailing behind him. There was no couch in Brian’s living room, just two worn recliners. Joe sat down on one, while Brian took the other one.

  “Kelly talked to Laura. Looks like Kent is going to pull through this. How did you happen to be there?” Joe asked.

  Brian leaned back in the chair, bringing the footrest up. Leaning back, propping his feet on the elevated footrest, he set his can of beer in the chair’s cup holder. “At first I thought it was something Boatman had told the chief at the wedding. I saw the two talking together in the backyard. Looked like something was really bothering her. But then the chief told me later, he got an anonymous tip from someone about Borge showing up at Marlow House to settle a score.”

  “I heard she was Jimmy Borge’s sister. So she was really there for Danielle?” Joe asked.

  “No, she was gunning for Kent. Turns out her boyfriend was killed in that accident Kent was in. Apparently she blamed him for his death.”

  “That’s a pretty bizarre coincidence,” Joe muttered.

  Brian shrugged and picked up his beer. He took another drink.

  After a few moments of silence, Joe looked curiously at Brian. “You know, this really isn’t like you.”

  Brian glanced at Joe with a frown. “What do you mean?”

  “About now, shouldn’t you be raging about how Boatman brings these things on herself?”

  “It wasn’t Boatman’s fault. That woman was a psycho.”

  “I know. But that never stopped you before,” Joe reminded him.

  Brian shrugged and finished off his beer. “I thought you came over here to make sure I was okay, not to give me a rash about Boatman.”

  “I’m sorry. I did come over here to make sure you’re okay. I shouldn’t have given you a hard time about Danielle. It’s just that I’m glad you finally see her in the same light as I do.”

  Arching his brow, Brian looked to Joe. “And how is that exactly?”

  “Danielle is vulnerable. She doesn’t deliberately put herself in these situations—she just can’t help it.”

  Brian looked at Joe for a moment and then burst into laughter. “Boatman vulnerable?” He laughed again.

  Danielle had fallen asleep on the small sofa when the nurse walked into the waiting room.

  “Your husband is awake; he’s asking for you,” the nurse whispered to Pamela.

  Leaving Danielle napping, Pamela followed the nurse. Kent was the only patient in the recovery room. When he spied Pamela walking toward him, he immediately put out his right hand for her, the IV still attached to his wrist.

  “Kent,” Pamela said softly as she took his hand.

  “I’m sorry for everything,” Kent told her, his voice raspy. He nodded toward the empty chair, motioning for her to sit down.

  Still holding onto his hand, she used her free hand to pull the chair closer. She sat down next to his bed. While the nurse was out of earshot, Pamela felt compelled to whisper, “This wasn’t your fault, Kent. That woman was unhinged. Just thank god she didn’t kill you or Danielle.”

  “I’m talking about the last year, not tonight. How I’ve treated you.”

  Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, she gazed into his eyes. “That wasn’t your fault either. It’s not your fault the accident took your memory. I can only imagine how frustrating it has been for you, waking up to a stranger who kept insisting she was your wife. Expecting you to feel things that just weren’t there anymore. I don’t blame you, Kent. I just want you to be happy. And if that means we have to be divorced for you to find happiness in your life, that’s what we have to do.”

  Kent shook his head and squeezed her hand. “No, you don’t understand. I can’t be happy without you, Pamela. You’re the love of my life. My best friend. The only woman I want to be with.”

  Confused, Pamela stared at her husband.

  “I remember, Pamela. I remember everything. I remember the first time we met. We were at the beach. You were with your roommate, Joy. She’d just walked down to the water, and you were alone, sitting on a beach towel, putting on suntan lotion. I came over, offered to help you put it on. You were not amused.” He chuckled at the thought. “You told me to get lost. But I came back later with two chocolate ice cream cones.”

  “You apologized, told me the ice cream was a peace offering,” Pamela murmured, her eyes filling with tears.

  “You told me your mother warned you, never take ice cream from strangers.” Kent smiled.

  “And I didn’t eat it. I sat there and watched you eat those two ice creams. They were melting all over the place. Your shirt was a mess.”

  “But you finally came around. You forgave me then. Will you forgive me now?” he asked.

  “When did you begin remembering?” Pamela asked.

  “When I woke up from surgery,” he lied. There was no way he could tell her the truth, that he had never forgotten—that someone else had taken his body. “I don’t want a divorce. I love you, Pamela.”

  “Are you sure?” Her voice trembled.

  “I just have one favor to ask you.”

  “What?”

  “The nurse told me I’ll probably be in the hospital a few days.”

  Pamela nodded. “Yes. The doctor said the same thing. But it’s okay. Danielle said I can stay with her until we’re ready to go home.”

  “What I need—I can’t wait until I get out of the hospital for…”

  She frowned. “For what?”

  “You’ve got to bring me a razor. I have to get rid of this damn beard! It’s driving me nuts!”

  Thirty-Nine

  Early Sunday morning, Danielle sat alone in her bedroom, talking on the cellphone with Lily. She had just updated Lily on all that had gone on during the past week—along with the happy ending.

  “Wow,” Lily muttered. “Just wow.”

  “I figured I needed to tell you now. I intended to wait until after you and Ian got home from your honeymoon. But I figured you’d probably check your Facebook, and I know you follow the newspaper’s page, and with Kent getting shot, there was no way it wouldn’t pop up in your feed. I didn’t want you to see it and freak out.”

  “No, I’m glad you told me. And wow…I can’t believe all of that was going on around me, and you kept it all a secret.”

  “I didn’t want to ruin your wedding,” Danielle explained.

  “Funny thing, on the flight, Ian and I were talking about Pamela and Kent. I couldn’t believe how much he had changed—although now I understand. We both figured they were heading for a divorce.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Is he going to be okay?” Lily asked.

  “Yes. And, Lily, do you remember when we were first picking out your wedding cake, and that woman came in and asked about Marlow House?”

  “Umm…yeah, I think so. Why?”

  “That was Felicia Borge. After Felicia was shot and I got a good look at her, I thought there was something familiar about her, and then I realized she was the woman in the bakery.”

  “How is Brian doing after all this?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m going to talk to the chief later. I figure Brian will probably be put on some temporary leave and there will be some sort of investigation. But considering she shot Kent, I don’t think he’s in any trouble. But I do worry about his mental state right now. He seemed okay
last night. If anything, he seemed to be annoyed he hadn’t acted quicker.”

  Danielle could hear Ian in the background while Lily conveyed to him the abbreviated version of what she had just learned.

  “Hey, this is the first day of your honeymoon. I just wanted to let you know what was going on. How was your flight? Your room?”

  “The flight was uneventful. I think our Saturday evening was much calmer than yours. Our condo is great. It’s right on the ocean. We’re just about to go out for breakfast.”

  “Okay. Go have fun. Give Ian my love. And don’t worry about Pamela. She’s going to stay with me until Kent can safely travel.”

  “Thanks for everything, Dani. While I normally would be annoyed learning you’d kept something like this from me, I’m actually grateful. Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.”

  Walt stood at his attic window and looked down at the street as Lily’s family piled into the rental car parked in front of the house. Danielle stood on the sidewalk, watching the activity. From what Walt had overheard at breakfast, Lily’s family planned to stop at the hospital to say goodbye to Pamela and Kent before heading to the airport in Portland. He glanced across the street to Ian’s house and noticed Ian’s father carrying luggage to Kelly’s car.

  Walt finally had his attic back to himself. Much to his surprise, that morning Cory had removed the linens from the hide-a-bed and then folded the bed back into a sofa. Walt had expected the disorderly young man to leave the room a shambles at his departure. However, Cory had left the room neat and tidy, hauling out all his trash, and he even carried the sheets and blankets downstairs to the laundry room.

  A meow from the open doorway caught Walt’s attention. He glanced over to the sound and watched as Max leisurely strolled into the room. When he reached Walt, the cat leaped effortlessly onto the windowsill and looked outside. He began to purr as he paced the length of the sill, rubbing along the window as he did, before turning and strolling in the opposite direction.

  “Sadie will be over here in a little while,” Walt explained. “We were supposed to have a nice quiet week—just me and Danielle.” Max stopped moving a moment and looked up at Walt.

  “Yes, and you and Sadie. The four of us. Our next guest isn’t arriving until next Friday. But I suppose Pamela will be staying for a few extra days.”

  Max’s golden eyes locked with Walt’s gaze.

  “Yes, Max. I was looking forward to spending a little time with just the four of us.” Walt looked out the window. Ian’s parents and sister were walking across the street to Marlow House with Sadie on a leash. Once on Marlow House’s side of the street, hugs were exchanged, and Sadie sat down next to Danielle. A moment later, the family members got into their respective vehicles and drove off as Danielle waved goodbye. When the cars were out of sight, she unhooked the leash from Sadie’s collar and gently ruffled the fur on the dog’s neck.

  “Looks like they’re all gone,” Walt noted with a sigh of relief. “Perhaps we can have a little quiet before Joanne and Pamela return.” No sooner had he uttered those words did another car pull up in front of the house. It was Chris.

  Walt groaned. He watched as Chris parked his car and then got out with Hunny. The four—Danielle, Chris, Sadie, and Hunny—made their way up to the front door of Marlow House.

  “I suppose I can forget about peace and quiet,” Walt grumbled as he turned away from the window.

  “Does that mean I’ve come at a bad time?” Eva’s transparent apparition suddenly appeared—floating in midair, it reminded Walt of a flag the way it fluttered gently while coming into view.

  “Please, Eva, stop that! Just show yourself,” Walt said impatiently.

  With a pout Eva appeared before Walt, no longer transparent. “I don’t remember you being such a grump.”

  “Maybe I’m just a little weary of theatrics right now.”

  “Weary? You’re a ghost, Walt. We don’t get tired,” Eva reminded him.

  “I loathe that word.”

  “Yes, yes. I remember hearing something about your aversion to that word. Silly if you ask me.” She studied Walt for a moment. “You know, I believe I’ve avoided coming here for all this time for naught. All these decades I imagined you were still hopelessly in love with me.”

  Walt’s stern expression softened. “Eva, you know I’ll always love you. I’m sorry I was out of sorts. It’s just that it’s been rather stressful around here this past week. And yes, I know I’m dead, and these things shouldn’t bother me anymore, but they do.”

  “You really aren’t in love with me anymore, are you?”

  Walt smiled softly. “No. No, I’m not. It’s been a long time, Eva.”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “Odd, I’m not sure how I feel about all this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “On one hand, I missed you dearly, but didn’t want to hurt and confuse you by coming around. And while I no longer feel the need to avoid you, I’ll confess, my ego is a smidge bruised to think you are no longer in love with me.”

  “But I did say I still love you,” Walt said with a smile.

  Eva waved her hand dismissively. “No, that’s simply not the same thing.” Eva’s momentary pout was soon replaced by a smile when a thought popped into her head. “Of course, now that I need not worry about my dear friend’s bruised heart, you can tell me all about that beautiful man downstairs.”

  Walt frowned. “Beautiful man?”

  “Oh yes, I met him the other day. I believe his name is Chris. Please don’t tell me Danielle is in love with him, is she?”

  Walt frowned. “I’m not really sure why you would care if Danielle was in love with Chris or not.”

  “Because I like her, of course! I may have been dead for eons, but I remember how jealous women can be of me. I’d step aside for Danielle; after all, it’s not like I can afford losing friends who are still alive—so few living people can see me.”

  Walt put up his palm briefly, signaling Eva to hush. “Are you saying you’re interested in Chris romantically?”

  “Come on, Walt, even you have to recognize how beautiful he is.”

  “For heaven’s sake, stop calling the man beautiful! And, Eva, you’re dead. Chris is a living man.”

  Eva arched her brow. “Really? And has that stopped you with Danielle?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Walt snapped.

  Eva laughed. “Oh, come on, Walt, you might be dead, but you are really no more different from other men. A man only stops loving a woman when another one happens by. And while I suppose I should be hurt, I did stay away for almost a century.”

  Walt rolled his eyes. “Eva, whatever I may or may not feel for Danielle is a moot point. I am dead—she is alive. I don’t for a moment forget that.”

  “You still didn’t answer my question. Is Danielle in love with him?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Chris asked as he walked into the house with Danielle. Sadie, who had dashed inside first, ran down the hallway and up the stairs in search of Walt. Instead of following Sadie, Hunny stayed behind Chris, nervously looking around for any sign of the resident cat.

  “I didn’t see any reason to get anyone else worried. Between Walt and the chief, I figured it was handled.”

  “Are you sure their spirits are gone?” Chris followed Danielle into the living room.

  “You should have seen it, Chris. It was like a giant invisible vacuum came down from the sky and sucked them up!” Danielle shivered.

  “What could it have been?” Chris asked.

  “Can’t you guess?” Eva asked when she appeared the next moment with Walt.

  “Eva! When did you get here?” Danielle asked.

  Eva eyed Chris and smiled. “About the same time as your friend here. It’s Chris, isn’t it?”

  “Nice to see you again, Eva.” Chris grinned.

  “Ohhh, it’s very nice to see you again,” Eva purred.

  “What did you mean when you said can’t we guess
?” Danielle interrupted. “About what happened to Felicia and that Billings character?”

  Eva turned to Danielle. “I suppose you might call it the gates of hell.”

  “Gates of hell?” Danielle asked.

  “Spirits generally move on. Even those who have sins to reconcile. A few spirits—such as Walt and myself—delay the journey. In many cases, the decision to remain is born from confusion, a spirit who fails to grasp what has happened.”

  “Yes.” Danielle nodded. “I’ve encountered a few like that.”

  “Some are not allowed to move on, like Angela,” Eva explained. “Perhaps one day, she’ll continue on her journey. And then there are those like the two who departed yesterday, who are not given a choice.”

  Danielle frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Eva shrugged. “A spirit does not always have the option to linger. They forfeit that right under certain circumstances.”

  “Did they take them to hell?” Chris asked. “Is there really a hell?”

  Eva shrugged. “Some call it that.”

  Forty

  When Danielle visited Kent in the hospital the day after the shooting, he remembered everything that had happened since the car accident—including meeting Walt Marlow and Eva Thorndike, along with jumping into his own body to reclaim it. He didn’t share those memories with his wife, just with Danielle.

  However, on the second day, the memories began slipping away from him—in much the same way as the details of a dream begin to fade after one gets up in the morning, until the person can’t quite recall what the dream was about.

  On the third day, Kent still remembered discussing the events with Danielle, but now he was apologizing. “It has to be all the drugs they have me on. What must you think of me, rambling on about ghosts and wandering about without my body?”

  By the time Kent was released from the hospital, he couldn’t even recall what exactly he had discussed with Danielle the day after the shooting, only that it had something to do with a bizarre dream he had had. His memory of his life before the car accident remained intact, while his memory of what had occurred from the time of the accident to the shooting was a bit foggy in that he could see all that Tagg had lived through while occupying his body, yet he believed those were his experiences and his actions, not Tagg’s.