Together Again: Spirit Travel Novel - Book #4 (Romance & Humor - The Vicarage Bench Series)

by Mimi Barbour

  She whispered. “What in the world has Mrs. Dorn managed to do?” A giggle burst through, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

  He looked up and noticed the gleeful expression she wore. “I can’t begin to imagine.” He chuckled, sounding very much like a young lad engaged in a prank. “Why, you little devil, you’re enjoying this whole adventure, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve never had the opportunity to be involved in such tomfoolery before. I must say, it’s great fun—as long as we don’t get caught.”

  “Bite your tongue, my dear.” He scooped Dani’s slightness into his arms. Wrapped carefully in the hospital blanket, she lay inert, looking endearingly helpless. He waited for a signal from Nurse Joye, who peeked out the door to make sure the path was clear.

  “This blasted hospital promised me peace and quiet. I’m at the end of me tether, I tell you.” Irate, and letting the world know it, the angry sufferer ranted on.

  The nurses seemed to be losing their patience. Aware that the uproar would affect others if they didn’t soon put a stop to it, they spoke firmly. “Sir, quiet down. There is no one in your room. You must have imagined it.”

  “Right! Tell that to the spook—”

  His tirade ceased to matter after the stairway door closed behind the two body snatchers.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Troy, quit acting like such an ass. We’ll be together again a week from now at my birthday party. You do have my uncle’s address in your pocket?”

  “It’s engraved on my—”

  “And don’t be snippy.”

  “Yes, your royal highness.”

  “You’re impossible! I’ve tried talking with you all morning, and you won’t let me in. What is wrong with you? First you allow me a glimpse of what’s in your heart; then you act like a moron who’s sorry for sharing your sensitivity. I thought I was the kid here! Can’t our last few moments together be happy ones?”

  Troy sat on the vicarage bench, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. His arm lay along the bench’s back. To an onlooker he resembled a confident man at ease, mellow.

  Inside, he endured a mishmash of anxieties, stomach-eating fear and enough sorrow as to swallow him whole. Hiding his feelings from Dani had to be the most difficult task he’d ever taken on, but he knew how important it was that she be worry-free when she left him. His extreme unhappiness would only add to the already full load of despair she’d be carrying back with her. A bit of healthy anger towards his behaviour appeared much more appropriate than heartbreak.

  She stopped speaking.

  He waited, hating the silent treatment.

  The breeze picked up, rustling the foliage around him. The rosebush’s dark leaves stirred overhead, creating a perpetual melody as the wind blew them every which way. Sunlight streamed through the canopy, dappling the ground below—shadow, then light. All three colours of the roses, red, pink, and white, bloomed with brilliance against the emerald background enfolding them, nestling them, emphasizing them.

  He breathed in deeply, enjoying the aroma and atmosphere of the garden as much as the busy butterflies attracted to the petals’ landing strips.

  Finally, he cleared his throat, a hint. Still she refused to answer.

  “Okay, you’re right! I am being a jackass. I guess I’ll miss your nagging, and I’m too damn stubborn to admit it.”

  “Be still, my heart. How can you expect a mere girl to be able to withstand such touching sentiments and overwhelming gushiness?”

  “Listen here, Brat. You’re lucky I’m even talking to you. First you invade a guy’s privacy, you take over his life, and then you leave him broken-hearted. And I’m supposed to be nice?”

  “Oh, Troy, you do have a way with words.” The edge left her tone as she melted.

  “Seriously, sweetheart, take care when you get back to your old life. I know your mother worries you, but since you’ll soon be a mother yourself, you’ll have to stand up to her. Be your own boss as much as possible. It’ll be difficult, there’s no doubt, but I also have no doubt of your abilities.”

  “Difficult? You have no idea. Thank God I’ve learned some very good lessons from you.”

  “You have? What?” His pleasure could be heard in his voice.

  “Let’s see. There’s stubbornness, great swear words, how many beers it takes before you get a buzz—”

  “Smarty-pants! You just wait till next Saturday. I’ll teach you a lot more things.”

  “Things like what?” She crooned the words, picking up on his sudden switch from friend to lover.

  He opened, allowing the sexual craving that pulsed in his system to rampage throughout his entire self. The image of two people entwined and making love, swept from him to her. His body, now fully aware, swelled and became involved.

  “Oh, God, I can’t wait.” Her voice broke.

  With Dani, the sexual pull felt different for him, more intense. There was a flagrant need, absolutely, but also much more of an emotional affinity. Probably because this time he loved.

  Troy realized he’d gone too far. How could he get through this next week if he didn’t control his yearning? He had to let her go. He firmly steered the conversation back to where it had been.

  “Baby, your family loves you, especially your mother. She’ll do what’s right in the end because you’re what matters, you and the little miracle in your tummy.” Firm words she’d need to remember when she faced her mother alone.

  He looked at his watch and noted the minutes galloping by.

  “I can’t bear to leave you.”

  “Dani, it’s only one short week. We can do it.”

  “No, wait—”

  “We have to start the magic.” So saying, he reached up to the roses above and hesitated. “What’s your favourite colour?”

  “I don’t want to go back yet. We can have one more week together. You don’t know everything about me—”

  “Not a good idea, Babe. Your family will be destroyed if you don’t show up today. They don’t know what’s happened to you.”

  “I don’t care. My uncle is a very determined man. He’ll be here next week, and the one after that, if necessary.”

  “Dani! You’re not thinking clearly. Now, what’s your favourite colour?” He heard her sigh long and low.

  She finally answered, “Red. It’s the rose that symbolizes love.”

  He reached up and plucked a perfect red bloom with a wicked-looking thorn exposed on the crooked stem.

  “Until next Saturday—be good, sweetheart.”

  He jabbed.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Nerves clamoured all Saturday morning as Dani’s caretakers pulled off her kidnapping without a hitch.

  When the appointed hour arrived, the garden was a riot of colour. Busy birds hoping for lunch tweeted and whistled, creating a lovely atmosphere. Sunlight streamed through the branches overhead and left a variety of shifting designs on the worn cobblestones of the patio floor.

  Dr. Andrews, tired and drawn, supported Dani’s body while Nurse Joye fussed about with the intravenous paraphernalia. Finally, with everything in order, she sat, the teen on the bench sandwiched between her and the doctor. Reaching up, she gently pushed the wind-blown curls behind ears too small to restrain such weightiness. The fragrance of the teen-trendy shampoo and crème rinse used just that morning tickled her nose as a few red strands flicked past her cheek. She caressed the girl’s face and then leaned back against the bench with a deep breath, purposely folding her hands, relaxed.

  The picture of Dani’s head nestled against her uncle’s chest loosened something in the young blemished nurse. Restraints she hadn’t know existed were unravelling. Normally she’d have sat with the right side of her face toward the doctor, but numerous tasks had kept her too busy to worry. Her hand started its automatic ascent, but at the last minute she stopped. Instead of covering her face, she pretended to straighten her cap.

  “Don’t worry so, Robert. I’m sure this week t
he magic will work, and Dani will be back with us.”

  “She could be anywhere, in any time period, in any body. What’s been so difficult for me is that I have no idea if she’s safe, unhappy, in danger… Do you know how frustrating it’s been, not knowing? This whole bizarre state of affairs has been perfectly hellish, Grace.”

  Having been with him since the beginning, she knew what he’d gone through. She supposed he felt responsible for planting the bush in his own garden. If haggard features and pain-filled eyes were any indication of his inner apprehension, then the way he swilled indigestion medication was understandable.

  “I do understand. We’ve been forced to use these underhanded tactics, and it’s made life rather difficult.”

  He groaned and looked even worse. “I know.”

  “If you’re worried about your sister returning, Mrs. Dorn has gone to make sure the doors are locked. We shan’t be disturbed.”

  “Locked doors wouldn’t stop Marion if she truly believed we had Dani in this house. But her two earlier searches convinced her we didn’t. Now she’s terrorizing the police station, stirring them up, driving them crazy.”

  “She’s a mother with a cause. She loves her daughter.”

  “Cor, you’re right there. And I love her. I’ve hated lying to her all this while, listening to her heartbreak, watching her fall apart.”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve seen the torment on your face whenever she’s called. The last few days have been awfully hard on all of us. This latest debacle has been the worst, both for you and your sister. And for Mrs. Dorn, I wager.”

  A reluctant smile replaced the frown he’d worn. “She’s a wonder. Imagine her accosting that patient last night, then hiding behind the curtains until the nurses calmed him down. She said it took hours.”

  “Maybe ten minutes.”

  “Not by Mrs. Dorn’s timer.”

  “Whatever possessed her to try and kiss him?”

  “Seems that didn’t actually happen. She leaned over him to whisper the word ‘boo,’ hoping he’d wake up. When he did, he jumped, instinctively raising his head, and their faces collided. Her story.”

  “Wrapping herself in a sheet was a stroke of genius.” Nurse Joye openly grinned at the man grinning back, two conspirators enjoying a moment.

  “Mrs. Dorn’s eccentricities have earned her a big raise and a week’s holiday. I don’t know what I’d have done without her.”

  Just then Mrs. Dorn appeared. She’d obviously overheard his last words, but she said nothing. She didn’t have to. Agreement was expressed by her crafty half-smile and nodding. She pulled out a garden chair to perch on and then pointed at her watch.

  The lovely red rose, lying innocently on the garden table, beckoned. Dr. Andrews lifted it and pricked the girl’s limp finger. All three people held their breath. Whispers of disjointed prayers floated between them.

  Dr. Andrews crossed himself, held up his watch arm and said, “Our Father—”

  Nurse Joyce also crossed herself and repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time, “Holy Mary—”

  Mrs. Dorn raised her hands prayer-like, and kicked in with, “Now I lay me—”

  Dani did nothing. Not a movement, not even a sigh!

  One minute passed. Still nothing. The second hand on Dr. Andrews’ timepiece crawled. He gave up staring at his watch and instead checked Dani’s eyes, looking for some sign that she’d returned. Nothing! He looked at the other two anxiously watching, waiting, and shook his head.

  Mrs. Dorn started to cry—big gulping sobs. Water gushed from her protruding eyes like a pot boiling over. “I can’t take anymore. I’ve been spinnin’ in me knickers too… Ere now, what’s that?”

  Three pairs of eyes, all disbelieving, stared at the twitching body of the young teenager.

  “Good grief! Sh-she’s coming back to us,” Dr. Andrews whispered, a decided hitch in his voice.

  “Thank you, Lord.” Grace’s voice quivered

  Mrs. Dorn spoke the loudest. “Lord love a duck, it worked.” Instantly her face cleared, the waterworks stopping as if by magic. “Our sassy little madam’s going to get a piece of me mind just as soon as she’s up to it, I’m warning you now.” Mrs. Dorn put her apron to good use mopping her face.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Troy missed Dani so much he couldn’t sleep or eat. The emptiness she’d left behind did fill up—with painful longings, endless soul-searching, and one-sided discussions. A week! Who knew that seven days could seem like infinity?

  The local paper hounded him for more of his articles, and this kept him going—losing himself in other people’s lives. The tragedy of the fire inspired him. He’d never written better, or put more of his brilliant talent into every detail, every word. His genius was stretched to the max as he focused the readers, willing them to put themselves into the lives of those who were now homeless, terrified and in pain. Newspaper sales skyrocketed, and everyone talked about the event. What would happen to those poor lost souls?

  Others who had suffered in the fire, and had read Susie’s narrative about her Harry, searched Troy out. Many had similar tales to share. It seemed, when written by Troy, memories became chronicles of the ordinary person who needed to be remembered.

  That evening when he returned to the Inn, Bunty was leaning on the counter, reading the local daily. As soon as the bell jingled indicating a customer, she looked up inquiringly, then relaxed when she saw who entered.

  “Troy, did you read this special coverage today on the front page, the comments made by Ellie Ward?”

  “No! What does she have to say?”

  “Other than the fact that her latest novel was released a mite early and had to be pulled off the shelves until next week, she made another announcement that has most of us townsfolk agog. The darling girl secretly bought a property called The Gardens a few years ago and now plans to turn it into a care facility for the Kingsly folks. They’ll have a place to go to when they’re ready to leave the hospital. A place where they can all live together again.”

  He could tell what Bunty thought of the idea. Her face glowed with pride for one of their own. “I gather you’re in favour of this happening?”

  “Well, of course I am, and all the others I’ve talked with today feel the same way.”

  “What is this place you mentioned, The Gardens?”

  “Right. You wouldn’t know about that old abandoned property. A few years back, a crazy Yank—no insult intended….”

  “None taken.”

  “The daft blighter decided to build a swanky resort outside of town as a getaway for Hollywood stars. It was to be top-o’-the-line. He didn’t foresee that we don’t do things in the same manner here like they do in your country. When the job didn’t go his way, he shut it down half-finished, and left. Never seen hide nor hair of him again. Not long after, it was listed for sale, with no takers. Big ol’ white elephant, if you ask me.” Disgust rang in her voice.

  “So you think it’s a bad idea for Ellie to have offered this particular property for the Home?”

  “Crikey, no. I think it’s a jolly good idea. It’ll take some work, but the bulk of the construction is finished, and the fancy large gardens won’t need much restoring. The stall came about over the fixtures and novelty items the silly sod demanded be shipped from all over the world. Workers to install such vulgar luxuries couldn’t be found hereabouts. I rather think he became discouraged at our bugger-it attitude.”

  A smile spread over Troy’s face as the chuckle, he’d tried to hold back broke through. For a short time he looked like the same lighthearted fellow Bunty remembered from a few days ago.

  “I gather the place is close to town and fairly large, then.”

  “Oh, it’s huge. But if we keep to the basics for the improvements, the townsfolk will kick in as many free hours of volunteer labour as it will take to have it finished up in a hurry. I’ve no doubt it’ll be a smashing place for the old dears to live.” Her manicured finger pointed to
the large photograph on page one. “Good on her, I say. Considering all she’s had to overcome, she’s a darling lass. Always has been.”

  Her voice rang with the truth as she saw it, and her manner substantiated her belief. The community was proud of Ellie. Troy couldn’t pass up the chance to quiz Bunty further about the person who’d originally brought him to this small borough. He’d put her story on the back burner, but his intention had always been to find her eventually and get her to talk to him.

  “What do you mean, after all she’s overcome?”

  Bunty’s pride in the celebrated and popular author took over, and she couldn’t resist the chance to brag. “The poor girl dealt with some huge obstacles as a teenager. Folks around here thought her a piece of work and were ever so vindictive about her improprieties. Me, I’ve never set myself up to judge anyone, but regrettably not everyone felt the same. She had it rough and came through the worst of it as the lovely person you see today.”

  Bunty didn’t gossip. He had to give her credit for that much. But he kinda wished she did, he had so many questions.

  “Is Ellie married now?”

  “Never was.”

  “She has a little girl.”

  “Yes. Amy. She’s a sweet child.”

  “I met her, and I know what you mean. She’s a lovely little girl. Takes after her mum, does she?”

  “In looks and personality. Amy has a million questions, just like Ellie always did when she wasn’t much older. I guess it comes with the territory, being as how she’s a best-selling author. Her books are sold worldwide. She’s quite famous, you know. And it never went to her head. We’re all very proud of her.”

  Reminded of whom they were discussing, Bunty’s eyes narrowed. She backed away from the counter she’d been contentedly leaning on. And she shut down. He saw it in her eyes. Before that could happen, he had one last question.

  “Since I’ve started writing on behalf of the victims, do you think she’d give me an interview about her plans for the new home? It would be a perfect ending for the columns, to let the world know the town has come through so well in this critical period.”