The lovesick part of me that ached to be close to him, returned his gesture with a restrained grin and pressed the message button on. “Whatever the doctor orders,” I said, following him down the hall.
“My job would be easier if all of my patients had that opinion.”
In his exam room, I slipped into the big chair, a little intimidated by the instruments perched on metal mechanical arms that sprung like monster limbs from the rectangular unit to my side. It occurred to me that if I was intimidated, his young patients must be terrified. Yet they all bounded from his room happy and unscathed—a testament to his gift working with kids. Sigh. If only I’d fallen for an ol’ meanie who sent children screaming, it’d be much easier to sit through this exam.
Cal took a seat on his rolling stool, pen, paper, and patient folder in hand. He scooted closer while scribbling. Finally, he looked up at me. “When was your last eye exam?” To his credit, he was being very professional. That was good. Despite my desire to curl up next to him, settle into the crook of his arm and kiss his neck, his professional attitude was... good.
“Eye exam?” I mimicked. He had me stumped on the first question. Had I ever had an eye exam? I didn’t think so. Oh wait—when I was younger... “At the pediatrician, when she had me read the wall chart—was that an eye exam? If it was, I’m not sure I could tell you how long ago that was. Obviously a while. I’m sort of past the pediatrician phase,” I laughed.
He rolled his eyes. “That’s definitely not an eye exam.” He scribbled some more, then looked up again, scooting closer. My heartbeat skipped a couple of times as his proximity neared. I could smell him now and I was getting a little dizzy. “Remember that résumé you said I never read?”
I nodded and tried to hide a swallow.
“I read it last night. You never finished college. Why?”
“You were reading my résumé last night?”
“You answer my question first.”
“What was the question?”
“You only completed three semesters of community college.”
Touchy subject. I’ll admit, I was a little miffed he was bringing it up. “I wasn’t doing very well. It didn’t seem worth the money. What does that have to do with my eyes?”
“Did you have trouble in high school?”
“Not really. I mean, I was a mostly B student, you know. But I worked really hard for those grades. Harder than most of my friends that made A’s. I just don’t think I’m exactly cut out for school. Wait, you’re not going to want me to get a college degree for this job are you?”
“No, no. This is all about your vision. Those headaches you get—are they mostly on the front of your forehead, over your eyes?” He pointed to his own forehead to illustrate.
“Yeah...”
“Do you ever experience any double vision when you’re reading or just after reading?”
“Sometimes. But isn’t that normal?”
He shook his head over that little crooked smile. “No. It’s not normal.” He scribbled some more. “But don’t worry, I think we can save you.” He winked, and picked up a metal wand with a marble-sized ball at one end. “Follow the ball with your eyes.” He waved the thing around while I did as he instructed, not finding it as easy as one would think. He stopped for more note taking, then held it up again. “Now, I’m going to bring this toward your nose. Watch the tip and tell me when you see two balls instead of one.” He did that three times and it all went very quickly since the ball split into two for me long before it got to my nose. “Mm-hm,” he nodded, placing the wand down and writing more.
“You’re doing an awful lot of writing there and not much talking,” I complained.
“I’m almost done,” he said. Which was really a bit of a fib, because he did all sorts of other tests with small charts and big charts and lenses. Finally, he put the pen and folder down and folded his hands in his lap. “Convergence insufficiency.”
I’d seen the word—it was a diagnosis that had to be included on some of the bills I gave patients, but I had no idea what it meant. “What?”
“That’s why you get headaches.” He brought his two index fingers together forming a V. “Your eyes don’t converge easily when you read. So you get headaches. And when your eyes have had enough, they give up altogether—that’s when you experience double vision. It’s probably why you had to work so hard in high school, and when you got to college, the reading assignments were longer and more intense. I see this a lot.” He rolled to his desk, pulled open a drawer and reached in. When he rolled back my way, he handed me a clear bag with a long string inside. On the string were three colored beads. “That’s a Brock String—the instructions are on the inside. Read them and do the exercise at home a few minutes each night.”
“This little string will cure me?”
“No, but it’s a start. You really should do therapy with me a couple of times a week too. Four or five months maybe.” Before I could object, he jumped up and snatched a black instrument from his work desk, flipping a switch on it which lit up a small light. “Hang on—I just want to check inside your eyes.” The next thing I knew, he had scooted clear up to the exam chair and was in my face with the instrument, looking through his end. We were kissing-close while he moved the thing around, inspecting my right eye intently. I felt his warm breath on my face, and suspected, from the minty scent, that he’d planned this little close encounter. Not that I was objecting. My hand twitched, resisting an urge to reach up and stroke his face, to pull him nearer. “If I didn’t know better,” I quipped, probably to release my own set of nerves, “I’d say you were making a pass at me.”
“Shh, don’t move.” He switched to my left eye, guiding the instrument around. His skill and intensity only fueled my craving for him, wilting my resolve to keep an emotional distance. Finally, he pulled away. “You’re good.”
I blinked a few times. “What is that thing?”
He looked at the black thing in his hand, seeming surprised I didn’t know. “Ophthalmoscope. It helps me see the tissue in your eye.”
“So my tissue is fine.”
“Healthy.” One corner of his mouth tugged into a sly grin. “I’d consider saying something like, ‘It’s as beautiful as you are,’ but that would be really corny.”
It was corny, but my heart jumped into my throat anyway. “Yeah...” Feeling unsure which direction the conversation would lead, I decided getting back to work would be the best thing for calming myself down. I placed my hands on the arms of the chair to push myself up and realized my palms were sweating. Yeah, I really needed to get out of there. “Well, better get back—”
Cal’s back was to me, he was slipping his ophthamathingy back into a stand on his work station. “I needed to be near you somehow. Know more about you.”
I froze. “Huh?”
“Your résumé. You asked why I was reading it last night. I read over and over again.”
My palms were sweating again, my pulse racing. “This exam—another way to be near me? You weren’t worried about my headaches?”
He spun around. “No—it was about the headaches. I told you last week when you started that you should have an eye exam.”
I relaxed, but only a tiny bit. That was true. He had.
“But I won’t lie,” he continued. “I liked having the excuse.” He hesitated. “To be close to you.”
Words—too many words, too many thoughts—choked in my throat. I felt there were two ways to go. Surrender or walk out the door. Walking out the door was harder, but I did it anyway. We stayed out of each other’s way the rest of the day.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
AT SIX, JUST AFTER THE last patient of the day walked out the door, Mrs. Wiley walked in. “Hello, Sophie!” she said, out of breath. “How are you doing? Did you recover well from your trauma on Sunday?”
“Mrs. Wiley!” shouted Dr. Callahan from his end of the hallway. “Thank you for coming!”
“Please, please, call me Tara.”
My head swiveled from him to her and back. “You asked her here?”
“Yes, she’s agreed to sit in on our first meeting tonight.”
I gave myself a mental head slap. I’d completely forgotten about the meeting of the misfit group of people and their ghosts. “You’re still doing that?” I asked him.
“It does seem odd, since I’m not really in need any more, but they need a place to meet. I didn’t have the heart to cancel on them.” Of course he couldn’t, because he’s such a nice guy. If it weren’t for that wife, he’d be perfect. “And with Mrs... I mean, with Tara willing to help, it could turn out to be... well, it’s something to do anyway.” He stopped and frowned slightly. “Wait, you’re staying, right?” When I didn’t answer immediately, he allowed me an out. “Don’t worry. I’d understand if you didn’t.” The disappointment painted on his face kicked me in the gut.
Tara was feeling the tension. “Did something happen between you two?”
I shook my head. “Long story.” Having forgotten the support group date entirely, staying wasn’t in my original plans. I had sad movies to return and funny ones to rent. But Cal had that hound-dog, droopy-eyed, crestfallen look going on, and for whatever reason, I felt a sense of responsibility toward the misfit crew about to arrive. I sighed. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll stay.”
I called out. “Marmi, you’re joining us, yes?”
He appeared, standing next to Tara. “To watch Edna interrupt poor Stan every time he opens his mouth? Wouldn’t miss that for the world.”
Everyone agreed that the vision therapy room was the best place to hold the meeting. It was quite large. The only thing we had to move was the round table in the middle. Once that was pushed to the side, we collected more chairs. We brought in all eight from the waiting room, and Dr. Callahan carried in folding chairs he had stored in the back utility room. Along with the five rolling chairs already in the therapy room and my chair from reception, we had enough, hopefully, to accommodate the troubled couples.
Freckle-faced son and ghost father arrived first. They kindly reminded me of their names—Sean and Sean Jr.—and handed me a twelve-pack of bottled water. Right behind them was Pioneer ghost, Cora, and her earthly companion, Dawn. Dawn held a cheese and cracker tray in her hands. My mouth watered. I hadn’t eaten since lunch, and that cheese looked especially appetizing. “Where should I put this?” asked Dawn.
I had Sean, Sean Jr., Cora, and Dawn follow me down the hall to the vision therapy room. They oohed and ahhed, all agreeing that the room was more than suitable. I introduced them to Tara. Sean shook her hand warily. “You’re not here to study us like that other lady, are you?”
Tara smiled warmly. “No, no. None of that. I’m a medium.” She gestured to Sean. “Is this your father?”
He nodded and narrowed his eyes at her. “You see him, right?”
Not offended by his skepticism, she offered a warm smile. “I do. How are you, Sean?”
“Better now, I think,” answered the stodgy, cross-armed ghost.
Ghosts and humans were sitting when Dr. Callahan entered. “Hey, Dr. Callahan,” said Dawn. “Where’s Moonflower?”
“Oh,” he looked surprised at the question. “Right. She’s, uh, not here anymore.”
She raised her eyebrows. “She went into the light?”
He looked to me for help. “Uh, I’m not exactly sure...” The front door opened and the world knew that Stan and Edna had arrived. Mostly because of Edna. “You always make me late,” she complained loudly. “Hello!” she called out. “Anyone here?”
“I’m a ghost, Edna, I can—”
“I know you’re a ghost you fool, why do you think we’re here?”
“Hello!” she called out again. “We brought cookies!”
Dr. Callahan popped his head out into the hall and waved them down.
Edna waddled in, set her plate of cookies on the table next to the cheese and crackers, and let out a deep, heavy sigh. “So sorry we’re late.” She tipped her head toward Stan. “It’s his fault.” She looked around the circle of attendees and locked in on Tara. “Who are you?”
Tara stood from her chair and offered a hand to Edna. “Tara Wiley. I’m a medium—Dr. Callahan asked if I wouldn’t join you for a meeting to see if I could help at all.”
“Help with what?”
“Well, with anything spiritual in nature. That’s why you’re here, correct?”
Edna waved a hand in front of her perspiring face and sat down. “I’m here because he has problems, not me.” She looked up at Stan. “For God’s sake, don’t be rude, sit down like the rest of us.”
“So,” smiled Tara, sitting back down in her chair. “You must be Stan. How are you? You feeling okay?”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
“Do you mind me asking when you passed from your body?”
He shrugged again, looking a little surprised at the attention. He spoke hesitantly. “It was—”
“Two years ago this October,” said Edna. She snapped her fingers. “Went like that. Heart attack. An hour before my Bunco party.”
Marmaduke whispered in my ear. “What is a Bunco party?”
“Card game I think,” I answered as quietly as I could.
“Dice,” corrected Edna. “He ruined the party, and I haven’t been able to have one since. He scares all of my friends by moaning and slamming doors and knocking things over. I’ve tried to tell them that my house is just drafty, but they’re spooked anyway.”
Stan just shrugged again, but I detected the tiniest curl at the edge of his lip, the evil old ghost.
Tara suggested that we go around the circle, introduce ourselves again, and say what we hoped to get out of a regular weekly “get-together” such as this.
“I’m not sure what that means,” said Cora.
“What do you hope to accomplish? For instance,” Tara motioned to Cora. “I’ve often found that spirits remain bound to earth by some unfinished business. If you had some unfinished business, what would that be?”
Cora nodded, her question apparently answered to satisfaction.
Tara started with Sean Jr., who sat directly to her right. Generally, people and ghosts wanted some sort of peace with each other or, like Marmaduke and myself, just wanted to be with others like ourselves. Stan deferred to Edna, explaining that she’d interrupt him anyway, so why bother? Last in the circle was Dr. Callahan, who sat alone, minus the once overwhelming Moonflower.
“I’m—as you can see—without a, uh, spirit now. A ghost. But having been in those shoes, I’m just glad to offer my office as a place to, visit.” He clapped his hands on his thighs. “And I guess that’s it for me.”
“Actually,” said Tara, looking over Dr. Callahan’s head, “you’re not without a spirit. There’s one here right now, and she’s...” Tara nodded, as if acknowledging something or someone the rest of us couldn’t see. “She’s been with you for a long time.”
His face paled. “What?”
“Do you feel her?”
Marmaduke and I exchanged glances. “What is the woman talking about?” he asked.
Dr. Callahan swallowed hard. “Who?”
“I think her name is Emma?” Then she shook her head. “No, no, she’s telling me I’m wrong. It’s... Emily. Your sister? Did your sister pass away, Cal?”
He grabbed the seat of his chair.
She continued. “She’s what we call a guardian spirit. She straddles the planes, assisting you in difficult times.”
Cal started shaking, his eyes grew glassy as they filled with tears.
“She knows this is hard for you, Cal.” Tara moved her chair closer to his and covered his hands with hers. “She’s talking to me now though, and...” she stopped for a moment, listening to the invisible Emily. “She says that you both need to understand that you’re meant for each other.” She shook her head. “Do you know what she’s talking about. You both?”
My heart lurched. Was Emily referring to Rachel
? The beastly wife?
“No,” Cal had shut his eyes tight. “I can’t do this. Too personal.”
A murmur fell over the group and everyone stared above my head. I wrinkled my forehead, wondering what was going on. Tara was staring over my head as well. Her face broke out in a wide smile and she squeezed his hands tighter.
“Oh, Dr. Callahan,” said Cora. “Your sister is so beautiful!”
I still didn’t understand what was happening. How did they see her, and I didn’t?
“I understand your reticence, but she feels this is the right time and place, Cal.” With Tara’s encouragement, Cal opened his eyes and allowed himself to look. I could tell he was fighting back tears with every fiber of his being.
I’d been craning my neck to get some glimpse of Emily, and finally decided just to stand and turn completely. Cora was right. She was beautiful. Long, wavy blond hair, blue eyes, sweet nose. And look at that. She had a crooked smile too.
“I see,” said Tara. “She’s explaining now. It’s Sophie. She’s talking about Sophie.”
Cal looked at me, then the vision of Emily, then back to me.
“You answered an ad, right Sophie?”
I nodded.
Tara laughed and looked to Cal. “Did you ever wonder why Sophie was the only one who answered it?”
Now Cal was laughing. A tear rolled down my cheek. We couldn’t take our eyes off each other.
“Are you saying that Dr. Callahan’s sister was matchmaking?” asked Sean Jr.
My hands shot to my face. I shook my head, crying. “I’m so sorry.”
Cal stood and hugged me. “Sorry for what?”
“I don’t know. I’m just sorry!” I bawled.
He kissed my cheeks, then my lips, and I nearly forgot we were in the middle of a circle of people watching us.
Tara clapped her hands. “I knew it!” she shouted. “I just knew there was something very special about you two.”
“Well I am not happy about this one bit!” yelled Edna. “It’s happening again. Just like last time. We get no attention. I’m sitting here with this boob of a ghost man and—”
Keep Me Ghosted (Sophie Rhodes Romantic Comedy #1) Page 18
