by Devon Monk
“Let’s get you a shower and a cup of tea. I have a fresh batch of scones and donuts in the trunk of the car. BunBun’s best. You and I can sit on the porch for a few minutes.”
Lu frowned at her.
“Just long enough for tea and a scone,” Dot promised. “Please. Let me do something to make staying at my old house better. Please.”
Lu sighed. “Tea sounds nice.”
I grinned. “Aw, she got through your prickly armor. Look at that, Lu. You just made a friend.”
Lu shook her head slightly, as if I were being ridiculous, or maybe as if she were.
Either way, she and Dot got in the car, and I ducked into the back seat. I’d ride over with them, make sure they were okay, then come check on Lorde in a bit.
“Tea does sound nice,” I said, wishing I could taste it again, wishing I could feel the heat of a cup in my palms, could smell the sweet flowery steam.
I missed the bakery and the quiet times Lu and I would find together after the shop closed, when we would both sit down for a cup of tea or coffee.
“Sounds very nice,” I said.
Chapter Fourteen
Dot was in full hostess gear, sending Lu off to the shower while tea was brewed and BunBun’s best were placed on a wooden platter shaped like an apple.
I walked with Lu into the room. Stella was there, sitting in the corner angrily knitting. She didn’t look up at me or Lu as we continued into the bathroom.
Lu turned on the shower, then slowly pulled off her boots, socks, shirt, knives, and tank top. Wearing only a baby blue bra, the pocket watch, and her dark jeans, she tossed every other piece of clothing and the weapons into the corner of the room where they tangled in a pile.
“Messy,” I said softly.
She smiled, her fingers pausing on her belt buckle. “I’ll clean it up later,” she murmured.
These old words between us, long ago shared, repeated, and faded, like all our memories. Handled so often they had softened to a hush.
“No, you won’t,” I told her. Like I always told her.
“I’ll pay you to do laundry,” she said. Like she always said.
“What are you going to pay me with?” I angled to stand in front of her, both my hands resting on the curve of her waist.
She paused in our ritual, as if she’d forgotten the words. I dragged my fingertips gently up her bare stomach, goosebumps rising on her skin.
Her fingers slipped down into her front pocket.
But instead of saying the next words, she pulled a key out of her pocket and held it up with a smile. “With this.”
The magic dripped off of the key like honey oozing down a vine.
The key was burnished silver, shaped as a crow’s feather, the tip of the spine worked into delicate rises and dips to fit a lock. It was as long as her finger, and the honeyed magic swirled around it like clouds shifting across a sunset sky.
“Where did you get that?” I asked, even as the realization sank in.
“It was in the book’s spine. There’s a lock on the book. And this is the key.”
And oh, how she burned, fierce and proud. “He might have the book, but he can’t get into it.”
I stood there while shock, disbelief, and then relief hit me. I chuffed out a laugh. “He’ll know.”
She nodded. “He’ll figure it out. Or whoever he’s taking the book to will figure it out.”
“He’ll come after you.”
“And when he comes for me, I’ll be ready. We’ll be ready.”
I shook my head. “How did I manage to get a woman like you?”
“This could hold our answer,” she said. “That book could be the magic we need. The spells we need. I’m not going to let one random hunter take away the chance we can be together again. I’m not going to let anyone or anything get in the way of me having you.” That last word caught and broke, her eyes shiny with building tears.
“So,” she went on, pushing past the tears, “we’re going to hunt the hunter.”
I smiled, then leaned forward, my mouth so close to hers, I could feel the heat of her breath, and I knew she could feel the chill of mine. “I love you.”
She shivered, goosebumps racing over her skin again, her eyes finding mine and holding there. “I love you too.”
After the shower, Lu changed into clothes without blood on them, and Dot made sure Lu sat in the most comfortable chair on the porch with the best view.
The tea was in a chubby little pot with a knitted cozy over it. Two cups sat alongside the apple-shaped platter.
I waited a few minutes to make sure the women were settled in and that nothing else was coming to disturb them, then left the porch and crossed town as quickly as a mostly dead guy could travel, arriving at Lorde’s side just a minute after I’d left Lu’s.
Lorde’s tail tapped as soon as I crouched down to peer into her kennel, but she did not lift her head or open her eyes. True to their word, she was surrounded by blankets. Leon sat at a small desk in the corner, humming while he entered information into the computer.
“You good, girl?” I asked. If her tail, tap-tap-tapping meant anything, she was fine. Still sleepy, but doing well.
“I’ll come back and check in on you in a few hours.” I reached through the grating, my entire hand and arm passing through the metal like it wasn’t even there, and smoothed my hand down her silky fur.
She opened her eyes just a slit.
“It’s okay, girl. You get some sleep. I’ll look after Lu.”
Her eyes closed, and she sighed.
Leon glanced over, studying her in case she did anything else, then went back to the computer.
I gave her one last pat and traveled to the porch.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I said as I walked up the steps.
Lu looked up from her cup, searching for me. I stood in front of her, touched her face gently, and she unconsciously tipped her head, as if she were trying to hear the distant call of thunder.
“Lorde’s resting. She’s fine.” I pushed that word, wanting Lu to know that I was watching over Lorde, that I was looking over her too.
Her far-off look sharpened, and she tipped her head down, taking another sip of tea.
Message received.
“That man,” Stella said from the doorway of the house. She stood on the porch, her ghostly form half in and half out of the closed door behind her. “That monster. He tried to kill my sister.”
I sat on the porch railing. If I’d been alive, the thin wood would have cracked and creaked beneath my weight. Even after all these years, it annoyed me that it didn’t.
“He did,” I agreed.
Her gaze darted to Dot, who was talking about the peonies she’d planted this year and the bluebells she was hoping to get in the ground next year. She was dreaming of fruit trees, maybe peaches, and Lu nodded along, soaking up the comfort of this moment, of these simple dreams.
“You don’t have the book,” Stella said.
“No. Not yet, anyway.”
“Our deal was you could have the book, and I could talk to my sister. But maybe now…maybe now that’s gone.” Her hands were at her side, hanging, her shoulders squared. She’d stepped the rest of the way out of the house and looked resolved to follow the rules of our deal. She was resigned to letting go of her chance to talk to her sister one last time.
Resigned to giving up the one thing she had clung to this world for. Resigned to sitting in the corner of the house, knitting, watching her sister grow old, and waiting for her to die.
It was a grim reality for anyone, even a ghost. I was having none of it.
“The deal stands,” I said.
Her chin ticked up and her eyes went wide. “But the book…”
“We know who has it. We’ll find him. You did your part. You showed us where it was hidden. We’ll do our part and get it back. So. You want to talk to your sister?”
Her eyes shone with joy, and she took a step, every line of her body canted forward,
as if she had been freezing and had finally spotted a fire.
“Yes! Please, yes, please. What do you need me to do? How can I help?”
I stood and rolled my shoulders. I wanted to turn and walk away. Grab Lu’s arm, pick up Lorde, get in that ridiculous silver truck and drive. I wanted to protect Lu from this. Wasn’t sure if I’d be able to stand someone else touching her instead of me. Someone else knowing her, if even for a few minutes, more than me.
I unlocked my jaw and rubbed at the tense muscle beneath my ear.
Stella was shining and hopeful, but waiting, chewing on a thumbnail and shooting glances between me and her sister, who was thinking maybe a nice long bed of peppers would do best on the south wall.
“Lu,” I said, filling that word with my love, with my presence. She turned her face unerringly my way. I crossed the distance between us and crouched down in front of her.
I was big enough that even though she was sitting in the big old rocking chair, and I was hunkered down, we were eye to eye.
“Hey, love,” I said, brushing my fingers along the silky braid she’d worked her hair into after the shower. “Stella needs to talk to Dot.” I pressed my fingers on the back of her hand, hard enough, and with enough intention, I knew she’d feel the icy touch.
“Okay,” Lu said softly. “Dot, I need to tell you something.”
“Certainly,” Dot said, putting her tea down on the little table and giving Lu all her attention.
“Your house is haunted,” Lu said.
Dot sat there, silent for a good long moment. “How do you know?”
It was a strange answer, neither belief or disbelief.
“Because your sister, Stella, has been talking to my dead husband, Brogan.”
Again the moment stretched out. Lu held Dot’s gaze steady as a surgeon’s knife while Dot did some mental calculations for what she was going to believe was real and what she was going to ignore.
“How do you know my sister was named Stella? Who told you? Calvin? Did he tell you that? About the accident?”
“No,” Lu said, gentler now. “Brogan told me. He was…I lost him in an…accident too. And he’s still with me.”
“In your heart. In your memories,” Dot insisted.
“Right there.” She pointed at where I was crouched, and I grinned until it hurt.
“He’s a short man?”
Lu chopped off a laugh.
“You better say no,” I warned her, loving that smile, loving that laugh. “Tell her I’m fully grown. A mountain of a man. In every way.” I waggled my eyebrows even though I knew she couldn’t see me.
“He’s kneeling right now. Because he was trying to get my attention,” Lu said.
“You can see him?” Dot’s eyes were wider, and her color had gone a little off, her lips pale with a slight green around the edges.
“Not clearly, no. But I know him. I know he’s there. And he told me your sister, Stella, has been here, in her old room—where I’m staying, right?—waiting to talk to you.”
Dot swallowed. “It’s, yes. It’s her room. But lots of people know what happened. If she’s…If what you’re saying is true, I need more. To believe.”
“I’m right here,” Stella said, moving around to stand in front of her sister. “Dotty, I’m right here. Honey, I’m here.”
“What would make you believe?” Lu asked.
Dot picked up her tea, lifted the cup to her lips, then put it down again. Her hands were trembling. “Is this because of that man? Are you trying to make…do this because he was…there was a gun in his hand?”
Lu shook her head, a short choppy movement. “I don’t screw around with people’s feelings or lives.”
“Well, except for meddling when you think people should fall in love,” I noted.
“There have been very few, very few, people I’ve told ghosts exist. Even fewer know about Brogan. If you don’t want me to speak of this, if you don’t want to speak to her, I will drop this like it never happened.”
Straight, even, clear. There was no doubting Lu was a woman of her word. She’d leave this conversation in an instant and ignore she had ever spoken the words.
It was frightening just how thoroughly Lu could shut down if she wanted to. She hadn’t been like that when we were alive. Sometimes it frightened me. Made me wonder how much this half-life had changed her. Made me wonder if we’d ever be together again, happy again, alive.
“I do,” Dot said, “want to talk to her. I don’t believe in, well, those things.”
“I didn’t use to either. A long time ago.” There was so much sorrow in those words, even Stella made a small, sad sound.
“I’m right here, love.” I rubbed my hands on her knees, then lifted one hand, finger extended and poked the tip of her nose.
She jerked her head back, surprised. Then she rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m being maudlin. Dot, if you want to talk to Stella, I know she very much wants to talk to you. I can prove it’s Stella by telling you the details I know, which aren’t much. She likes to sit and knit in the corner of her old room. You two used to play in the old shed out back, and she was afraid of spiders. She died in a car accident, and she once met a man at the fair who sold her that book the gunman wanted.
“I haven’t actually talked to her, and can’t hear her right now, so I can’t ask her any questions to prove she’s here.”
“Then how am I…How can I talk to her?”
Lu’s shoulders stiffened. She didn’t like doing this either. Letting a ghost possess her, sharing her feelings, her memories, even for a short time.
“She wants to talk to you. Personally.”
“I don’t understand. Like a séance?”
“No. She wants to speak to you in her own words. That’s…harder. I’m…I can be a channel. She’ll share my body and can use my voice. She’ll step into me and talk through me.”
Lu shrugged like that was that. No big deal. Just an everyday thing. But when she picked up her tea, her hands clenched the cup like she was trying to soak the heat into her body, into her blood.
“It’s okay, baby,” I said. “We can do this fast. Stella’s going to be very, very calm and ignore your memories and feelings. Aren’t you?”
Stella moved to stand behind me, then she knelt, her shoulder against mine. She reached out and rested her hand on mine where it was still on Lu’s knee.
“I’ll do everything Brogan tells me to do. I won’t look at your life, your memories, or your fears. I’ll be quick. I promise.”
“I’m right here,” I told her, weighing my words, imagining a blanket wrapped around Lu’s thin shoulders, giving her comfort. Giving her warmth.
Lu knew that. She also felt Stella there, the cold of her touch different than mine. Lu was sensitive enough for that.
But it wasn’t Lu we were waiting on. It was Dot.
Lu wisely didn’t say anything. Just drank her tea and rocked in the chair and gave Dot time to decide. Time to believe, if she wanted, time to deny if she desired.
Stella and I waited, too, and really, there’s nothing more patient than dead people.
The sun had lowered behind the trees, throwing a golden light that made everything look like it’d been dipped in maple syrup.
It was hot, but the wind had been steady all day, lifting sweat before it had time to cool.
The tea was gone by the time Dot finally spoke.
“Let’s go in the house. I think I’d rather talk to her in her room, if that’s all right with you?”
“That’s fine.”
“Yes,” Stella said. “That would be good. That would be nice.” She stood, all her focus on her sister, and followed her like a lost puppy as she entered the house.
I remained with Lu, because that’s where I would always choose to be. Beside her.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” she whispered as she turned her hand over, palm up, waiting for mine.
I pressed my palm into hers. “Stella’s nice. She’ll mak
e it as easy as it can be. I’ll help.”
Lu inhaled, then exhaled in a thin stream, readying herself.
“That book better be worth it,” she said with a grin quick as a sunbeam in a stormy sky.
“That strange old magic ought to be worth something,” I said. “But you promise me you’ll tap out if this gets too heavy.”
She stood, her hand swinging naturally to her side, and walked across the length of the porch leaving just the right amount of space beside her for me to walk with her.
It was those things, those little things, that kept me fighting when things looked impossible. Her determination to keep me in her life was a gift and an honor, and I was not going to let her down.
“Tell her to be quick. And tell her to start with letting Dot know it’s really her. Have her describe something I don’t know that only Dot will know.”
“Not my first rodeo.” I kissed her on her temple.
“Yeah,” she said, “but I remember your first rodeo.”
I groaned. “Don’t.”
“You wore chaps. All those tassels. And that swagger.”
I huffed and rubbed my free hand through my hair. I had felt like such a fool. But a buddy had told me he could get me into the rodeo for free. He’d also told me girls loved a cowboy, and since I was a hired ranch hand among other things, I was as close to a cowboy as I needed to be to impress Lula.
He’d supplied the chaps too. But he was smaller than me. Most men were. My ass hung out of those things like a drugstore awning, and half the straps wouldn’t buckle down properly over my thighs. “You liked that, huh?”
“Your butt in those things made me want to write poetry. And you know I am the worst poet alive.”
“You can’t even rhyme when you sing along with the radio,” I said.
“There goes my man, all dressed in leather, catching my eye in all sorts of ways.”
“Weather. Weather rhymes with leather, Lu.”
“If he were a statue, he’d be made of fine glass, and every woman who passed him would stare at his t-assels.”
I laughed. “All right. No more poetry. You stink at it.”
She wandered through the door and down the hall, a slightly dreamy look in her eyes.
