The Fourth Power

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “I like it.” Martin’s tone dropped, and he smiled. He leaned back next to her on the couch and turned to face her. Their heads rested against the back cushions. “After everything that happened tonight, I can’t believe you’re still so…”

  “So?”

  “So calm. So nice. So forgiving. So understanding.” His hand lifted to touch her face. “So beautiful.”

  A tiny shiver of awareness ran down her neck at his touch. When she didn’t stop him, he brought his hand more fully against her cheek.

  “Would it be out of line if I kissed you right now?” he asked.

  Heather couldn’t speak. She shook her head.

  “Good, because I’ve been thinking about kissing you for months, since that first time we met,” he admitted. “You needed those light fixtures hung.”

  “You never showed it,” Heather said.

  His thumb touched her bottom lip in a soft caress. “Good to know I can play it cool because I was sure you noticed that I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I wanted to ask you out, but, you know, I have Jan.”

  “I like Jan,” Heather said.

  “You’re an amazing woman, Heather. I’ve never known anyone like you.” His hand against her face mesmerized her senses.

  As she gazed into his eyes, the world felt small and safe. Her magic tingled down her hand from Julia’s ring, trying to connect her to him. Deep attraction unfurled between them.

  What was he waiting for?

  “You should kiss me now,” she whispered.

  Martin leaned toward her. His fingers slid into her wet hair. The first brush of his lips awakened a part of her that had laid dormant for far too long. Her heart quickened as she anticipated a deeper caress.

  Heather hadn’t been intimate with a man for a long time, but it wasn’t like her ex-husband had been her one and only. She touched his chest, letting her hand explore the muscles beneath the cotton t-shirt. The material pulled tight against well-built biceps. There was no denying he was a handsome man.

  Martin’s tongue moved along the seam of her lips, urging them to part. She allowed him to deepen the kiss. Each tiny movement seemed to be a test. His hand moved from her jaw down her throat. When she pushed her tongue to meet his, the hand moved to her collarbone.

  What am I doing?

  Heather knew there was some logical thought she should be having, but his lips felt so right. Her skin ached to be touched. She wanted to explore the pleasure he offered.

  She removed her hand from his chest and grabbed his forearm, pressing down so that his hand ventured lower to a breast. Martin moaned as his palm fit against the soft globe. Her nipple tightened.

  Heather broke their kiss as she adjusted on the couch. She touched his waist, lifting the material so she could feel the texture of his skin. Her fingers dipped along his waistband.

  “Should we be doing this here?” Martin whispered. He kneaded her breast with firm strokes.

  “Everyone’s asleep.” Heather pushed her hand deeper to touch his naked hip, so there was no mistaking what she asked for.

  Martin released her breast long enough to push his hand beneath the cami she wore under the t-shirt. Heather bit her lip to keep from moaning too loudly. His hands were rough from construction work and felt wonderful against her skin. She pushed her hand deeper, feeling his ass against her palm.

  Heather leaned back, and he followed her as she lay down. The new position allowed his body to settle against her. The unmistakable shape of his arousal pressed against her hip.

  “I think I know where Viv keeps her condoms,” she said.

  “I have one in my wallet,” he answered as he lowered his mouth to her neck.

  She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “You keep condoms in your wallet?”

  “Just one,” he said, rotating his hip against her. “I’m a guy. We’re always hopeful when it comes to the idea of getting lucky and want to be prepared.”

  “Go get it,” Heather said.

  He pushed up to do as she ordered.

  Since a bed was made up on the couch, she pushed off the pajama pants and then crawled under one of the blankets.

  Martin took off the t-shirt to reveal a muscled chest. He pushed the sweatpants down on his hips just enough to free his arousal and put the condom on.

  Heather lifted the blanket so he could crawl over her. His hand instantly pushed her cami up to free a breast. His mouth claimed a nipple briefly. She lifted her hips in offering.

  Martin didn’t deny her. He drew his hips forward. The sweatpants clung to his thighs as she grabbed his naked ass. Being with a man was so much better than a silicone boyfriend. He entered her with a confident stroke.

  Martin looked into her eyes as he moved inside her. Their breathing mingled, but otherwise they stayed quiet. His hips found a perfect rhythm, and he read her reactions. Pleasure built, and her climax came with an earth-shattering release. She tensed as it overtook her body.

  Martin stiffened and jerked as he found his climax. His hips flexed, and he kept himself tight against her. He breathed hard.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, and he somehow made the word sound like the best compliment she’d ever received.

  Heather smiled, trying to catch her breath. Her heart beat fast, and she waited for it to slow.

  Martin sat back and reached for a tissue to wrap the condom. He pulled his pants to cover his hips.

  Heather tugged down her cami. He touched her thigh, keeping her from putting on the pajama pants as he looked at her.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice soft.

  “So are you,” she answered.

  “I want you to know I don’t take this lightly. I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His eyes roamed over her. “I definitely do not want this to be a one-time thing.”

  “Me either.” Heather wasn’t sure she could move. Sex had released her tension, but the relaxation combined with her exhaustion caused her eyelids to blink heavily.

  Martin stood and went to throw the condom away.

  Heather forced herself to pull on her pants and sit up. When he returned, she said, “I should go sleep in Viv’s room so no one discovers us out here but know I don’t want to leave you.”

  “I don’t want you to go either,” he said, sitting beside her. He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Before you go, I want to ask you out on a proper date. I’ll take you to that new fancy restaurant downtown, treat you like you deserve.”

  “That steakhouse?” Heather asked, shaking her head. She covered her mouth as she yawned. “No, they serve the fancy cake.”

  “Fancy cake?” Martin arched a brow. “What’s that?”

  “You know, fancy cake. When you eat at a nice restaurant and order dessert and the cake sliver that they give you is one-sixteenth of an inch thick and ridiculously tiny, but you can’t order twelve of them to make a normal size piece because they’ll shame you like you’re a glutton.”

  “Ah. Fancy cake.” He nodded.

  “Cake is the most important meal of the day,” she said, only half-serious.

  He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. So yes to the date, no to the steakhouse, yes to the grocery store bakery for a non-fancy real cake we eat in the parking lot in my truck?”

  “Yes,” she said. “You do know how to charm a woman.”

  Martin chuckled.

  Heather leaned to kiss him softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Heather, sweet dreams.” Martin looked like he wanted to beg her to stay with him. They both knew that wasn’t possible.

  Heather stood and forced her legs to carry her down the hall. For a crappy day, it hadn’t ended badly at all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Heather wanted to stop and breathe, but life wouldn’t let her. It started with the phone, which rang more than Muffy pulling a prank. First, her mother called bright and early the next morning to check on her. Then, her mother called an hour later to ask somethi
ng about casserole preferences. Then, an hour after that to check on her. And, still, and hour after that for a progress update on the casseroles, and on and on it went.

  Then there were the conversations with her insurance agent, the mortgage company, her tax accountant because half her receipts were burnt up, the police department, the fire department, numerous tenants calling to check on her and get the details, and the local paper. There was even a prerecorded spam message warning her that the warranty on her car was about to expire because why not?

  The one call she didn’t get was from Martin, and he was the only person she wanted to hear from.

  There had been no time to talk with him the morning after the fire. He did smile at her, but a rush of conversation had surrounded them. Vivien had wanted everyone to get their stories straight. Lorna made sure everyone ate breakfast and lunch and snacks. Troy kept refilling her coffee for her and offering to help however she needed. Martin had been preoccupied with his daughter, going from needing to punish her to wanting to hug her. William’s only goal seemed to be trying to make Heather laugh and keeping her calm.

  As trying as they could sometimes be, she would not have been able to get through it without her family and friends.

  There had been many questions about how the fire started.

  Did she have enemies?

  Did she have money problems?

  Did she gamble?

  Were disgruntled tenants recently evicted?

  Why was she running a space heater this time of year?

  Heather could tell they weren’t entirely buying her story, but they could find no reason as to why she’d torch her own place when there were more valuable properties on her roster. It was only mildly disconcerting that Vivien ended up having a knack for lying to authorities, though not surprising when considering the number of times she’d talked her way out of trouble when they were children.

  In the end, she was pretty sure it was her family’s deep ties to the community that ended the investigation. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but the other option was to get Jan into trouble for something Heather’s son’s spirit had convinced her to do. There was absolutely no way to tell that story.

  Four tense days passed in a blur before the fire department finally cleared the property so she could have a crew board it up to keep animals and people from exploring inside. William volunteered to oversee the efforts for her. What little could be saved after the smoke damage she had delivered to her second storage unit. The structure wasn’t worth saving, from a practical standpoint. Sentimentally, though, Heather wanted to hold on to it.

  On top of all the practical and legal matters on Heather’s mind, Muffy decided to call in her marker for Heather’s help. Only, it turned out the only kind of help Muffy needed was someone to actively listen to her for hours at a time. The incessant talking caused Heather’s eye to twitch, but as long as she nodded and glanced in Muffy’s direction every once in a while, the spirit seemed content. Heather, on the other hand, had a throbbing headache.

  When Heather pulled up to what remained of her home to check on the clean up progress, she saw Jan sitting on top of the wheel well in the back of her father’s truck. The girl lifted her eyes as Heather parked her car only to drop them back down quickly.

  “And he was like, you totally look hot, and I was like, I know I do.” Muffy laughed. Heather nodded her head and forced a smile.

  “Well, we’re here,” Heather said. “I’m sorry to have to cut this short but—”

  Muffy disappeared.

  “Never mind,” she muttered as she got out of the vehicle.

  Heather waved at a few of the men carrying plywood toward the backyard. She recognized them from her brother’s work crew. Their hands were full so they only nodded in return.

  Heather stopped near Martin’s truck. “Hey, Jan.”

  “Hi.” The tiny sound barely made it out of Jan’s mouth. She glanced at the house and then back down again.

  “Have the others been talking to you?” Heather asked.

  Jan tucked her chin tighter against her chest.

  “You know you can talk about this with me,” Heather insisted.

  Jan didn’t move.

  Heather sighed. “Is your dad inside?”

  Jan nodded.

  Heather took a step toward the house.

  “I’m sorry about your house,” Jan said.

  Heather stopped and went back to the truck. “Thank you for the apology. I know it’s not always easy to admit when we do something wrong.”

  “I don’t like Muffy. She talks all the time.” Jan glanced up as if testing the conversation about ghosts.

  Heather chuckled and nodded. “She does.”

  “I tell her to go away,” Jan said.

  “Does that work?”

  “Sometimes.” Jan stood up from the wheel well and crossed the bed of the truck to stand closer to Heather.

  “I can help you with that.” Heather lowered her voice and leaned against the truck. She rested her arms along the side. “My grandma told me that whenever I needed them to leave me alone to imagine that they’re air. Look through them to something on the other side. It doesn’t matter at what. It could be a tree or a wall or whatever, but you look at that tree like it’s the most interesting tree you have ever seen. Then you look away and pretend like you can’t hear them. The more you practice, the faster it will work.”

  “Do you think it would work so I can go to school?” she asked.

  “Is that something you want?” Heather reached to push a strand of hair from Jan’s face and tucked it behind her ear. At the contact, she felt the girl’s insecurity.

  She nodded.

  “Then we’ll practice and see if we can’t make that happen,” Heather said.

  Jan smiled.

  Heather ran her hand along her hair. “You are so pretty. Do you know who’s excellent at styling hair? Viv. I bet she’d love to get her hands on your head at the next slumber party.”

  Jan’s smile widened. “We can do that?”

  “Try to stop us.” Heather winked.

  Heather looked at the sad remains of her home. Martin appeared from the backyard, looking like he checked on Jan. Seeing her, he lifted his hand and waved, but didn’t return to what he’d been doing.

  “He said it would help you,” Jan said, not seeing her father watching them.

  “Who, sweetie? Trav?” Heather felt her stomach tighten.

  “He said you couldn’t live in that house anymore or you’ll become a ghost like him. He says you cry all the time in there.” Jan patted Heather’s hair, mimicking Heather’s earlier gesture. “It’s okay. I sometimes cry too. It’s not nice. He said if we took away the house, then you couldn’t look at his door and cry anymore.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Does he talk to you a lot?”

  “Sometimes,” Jan said. “Sometimes we play games.”

  “Like tic-tac-toe at Anderson House?” Heather remembered the circle being drawn in the dust.

  “No. That’s Yancy. He’s old. He takes his teeth out sometimes to make me laugh. He says the game is called noughts and crosses.”

  “Jan?” Martin called. “Are you being good?”

  “Yes!” Jan yelled, turning to look at her father.

  Heather wanted to know more about her son. She tried not to sound too eager or pushy, but she really wanted to grab Jan by the shoulders and make her tell every single detail of the encounters. “What kind of games do you and Trav play?”

  Jan shrugged. “Hide-and-seek, but it’s not fair. He can always find me too fast. Sometimes we draw pictures. He gets mad when I ride my bike.”

  “Oh?” The sound was a little too high-pitched as Heather choked back the urge to sob. Did her son remember how he died? She thought of the mangled bike.

  Martin must have seen her look because he hurried forward. “Jan, what did you say?”

  Heather lifted her hand to stop him from scolding her. “No, she’s f
ine. We’re just talking.”

  Martin hesitated before nodding and backing away.

  “Did he tell you why he’s here?” Heather had hoped he’d moved on to a better place, and that is why she’d never seen him.

  “No.” Jan combed her fingers in Heather’s hair. She lifted a lock from her shoulder and tried to braid a few of the strands.

  “Can you see him now?” Heather asked.

  Jan dropped Heather’s hair and moved around the truck bed, looking over the yard. “No, but he might be playing hide-and-seek.”

  “Do you think he’d talk to me if we could find him?” Heather felt as if she couldn’t catch her breath. Her hands shook with the idea of seeing his face just one more time. “I want to talk to him.”

  “But you’ll be sad,” Jan objected.

  “It’s okay to be sad when you miss someone,” Heather answered. “Please, I need to tell him something important. I need to talk to him. Please, will you find him and tell him?”

  Jan looked over Heather’s shoulder.

  “Mom.” The word came from behind. The voice had a mature quality to it, but how could a mother not recognize the sound of her child?

  Heather’s legs gave out, and she had to hold on to the truck to keep from falling. She turned toward the voice.

  Trav stood in his striped shirt and ripped jeans. His brown hair was spiked with gel. He had been so particular about it.

  Her hand slipped, and she dropped to the ground by the truck tire.

  “Baby?” she whispered. “It’s you. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

  She lifted her arms, wanting to hold him.

  “Mom.” He came to her. So much could be heard in that one perfect word. This time he sounded like a lost child.

  Heather couldn’t feel his solid form, but as the cold chill pushed against her, she felt him. She held her arms in front of her, able to remember what it felt like to hug him. She never wanted to let him go.

  “I love you so much.” Heather didn’t stop her tears. “I’ve thought about you every day. I have loved you every single day. I miss you so much, sweet boy.”

  “Mom.” This time the word was resolved. Trav pulled back, and she couldn’t force him to stay next to her. “It’s all right.”