Crazy For You (44 page)

She twirled around the room. “Oh my God...that was
so cool.”

A one-sided smile curled on Frank’s lips. “You liked
that, did you?”

“Did I like it?” She stopped in front of him. “Oh,
Frankie...” She clutched his hands in hers. “Watching you up there
on that stage…that was such a turn-on.”

“Really?” he said with a measure of intrigue.

She tiptoed up and kissed him eagerly. “Okay…” she
said breathlessly.

“Wait!” He backed her up to look into her eyes. “Are
you sure it’s okay? It won’t hurt the baby?”

“It won’t hurt the baby.”

H
ours later, Roxanne lay
comfortably on Frank’s chest, covers scarcely draped over their
bare bodies. He was still wound up from the concert. Thoughts of
the event rambled through his head as he gently caressed her
hair.

“So…how do you feel about playing now?” she
asked.

“I guess I did miss it,” he admitted, still stroking
her hair.

“Will you do it again?” She looked at him.

“How would you feel if I went back into the
studio?”

“If it makes you happy,” she said, “I wouldn’t mind
it.”

“And what will make you happy?”

“My memories,” she said with a little shrug. She
wasn’t bitter about it though. She’d accepted it. What she’d lost
wasn’t coming back. But she was making new memories. And she was
okay with that.

“I’m sorry I can’t give them back to you.”

“It’s okay. Sometimes I just wish I could remember
things like Frankie’s birth or our wedding.”

“Well, Frankie’s birth is something neither of us
have.” Nobody could do anything about that. “But I can give you our
wedding again.”

“The video tape is not the same thing as living
through it.” She thought she knew what was on his mind.

“Very true.” He smiled. “That’s why you and I are
going to get married again.”

“Huh?”

“You will marry me again, won’t you?”

“Are you serious?” she asked. “You’d do it again?
For me!”

“Of course. I’d do anything for you. Don’t you know
that by now?”

***

Chapter 37

Three Weeks Later

T
he sounds of laughter
filled Roxanne’s bedroom as she, Candy, and Glenna prepared for the
renewal of Roxanne and Frank’s wedding vows.

They’d dressed in the same gowns they’d worn the
first time, but the bittersweet situation had no effect on any of
them now. The day was a truly happy one for everybody. Especially
Roxanne.

“Okay,” Candy said. “Something old, something new,
something borrowed and something blue.” She paused for effect. “For
something new...” She handed Roxanne a small box.

Roxanne took it and opened it. Inside was a sixpence
for her shoe.

“And for something borrowed...” Glenna—not one to be
outdone—handed her a small jewelry box. “I wore these when Glen and
I got married. I would be honored if you’d wear them today.”

Roxanne opened the tiny case to find a pair of
diamond droplet earrings. “Oh my God, Glenna. These must be very
special to you.”

“They are. And so are you.”

“I will take very good care of them. I promise.”

“Now...” Glenna bit back her tears. “For something
old…I guess your wedding dress could be considered that.”

“That’s true,” Roxanne said, “But I have something
else in mind for something old.” She opened the middle drawer of
her vanity and carefully pulled out a large jewelry box. “I hope
you don’t end up hating me for this,” she said to Candy.

“Why would I hate you?” Candy asked, as if it were a
ridiculous notion.

“Because I didn’t wear these the day that I married
Chuck.” Carefully, she opened the case. A beautiful strand of white
pearls rested against black velvet. “These were given to my
grandmother the day she got married. She gave them to her daughter,
my mother, the day she got married.”

Candy gave Roxanne a comforting pat on the shoulder.
“They weren’t meant to be worn before today.” She sucked in a
breath. “Now all that’s left is something blue.”

“And we have that covered,” Glenna announced
proudly, pulling out yet another box that contained a blue
garter.

After the ceremony, Frank swept Roxanne away to the
airport where they were destined to fly off into the sunset on a
private jet.

She glanced out the window and then back to him.
“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere that no one can find us,” he said.

B
ack at Frank and Roxanne’s
house, Rich had just informed Candy that they too were going on
their belated honeymoon.

“But I told Roxanne I’d take care of Frankie while
she was gone,” Candy argued with him.

“Roxanne and Frank are both aware that you and I
will be out of town, too,” he said. “They know Frankie will be with
Glenna and Glen.”

“Really?” Excitement invaded her tone. “We’re
actually going?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“I was thinking someplace tropical. A place that
doesn’t require a whole lot of clothes.”

R
oxanne and Frank ended up
at an elite resort on an obscure little island in the Caribbean.
Clearly, Frank had gone to great lengths to ensure their privacy. A
heartwarming gesture, she thought, since she was aware that the
press had shown up on their first
honeymoon
.

After a couple of days on the island, the couple
emerged from their private cottage in the late afternoon. The bride
had expressed an interest in watching the sun set, and the groom
was happy to oblige.

With a blanket tucked under one arm and the other
arm draped around Roxanne, Frank led her to the sandy beach. He
spread the blanket out and they lay down together.

She turned on her side and faced him, propping her
chin in her hand. “Am I the same?”

“The same as what?” he asked carefully, uncertain of
what she was fishing for.

“As before?”

He thought about it. “Mostly, yes.”

“Mostly?” she said slowly. “What’s different?”

“It’s hard to explain,” he said warily. “It’s like
you have a confidence now that you didn’t have before.”

“Maybe I do,” she decided. “I’m only guessing
here…but I think you’re probably different, too.”

“And you base your opinion on what?” he wondered
playfully.

“I could never have left the man here in front of me
now...not in a million years.”

“I’ll never give you a reason to want to leave me
again,” he said.

“I’ve been thinking...I want to turn the book you,
Candy, and Rich wrote into a screenplay while I’m pregnant.”

“A screenplay, huh?” He paused, pondering the idea.
“Who’s going to play you in the movie?”

“Well me, of course.” She giggled. “And who’s going
to play you?”

“Well me, of course.” He laughed.

“Would you really do a movie with me?” she asked,
hopeful.

“Well if you’re playing you…then nobody’s playing
me, except me.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, you know.” She
traced her fingertips along his jaw line and then kissed him.

Frank wrapped her in his embrace and cupped her face
in his hands. He surveyed the beach, wondering if they could get
away with making love at the water’s edge, but he saw a couple off
in the distance walking toward them.

“Looks like somebody’s got the same idea as us,” he
said, with a little nod toward the couple. “Well at least I know
it’s not going to turn out to be your sister this time.” He
chuckled, thinking of a time that Candy had walked in on them in
the bathroom at the condo.

D
own the beach, the couple
strolled along arm-in-arm. Frank and Rich had never discussed the
particulars of where they planned to take their respective wives on
their respective honeymoons.

As Rich and Candy walked along, it became
increasingly evident that someone was on the beach up ahead of
them.

“Look,” Rich pointed toward the beach-goers, “it
seems that someone else has the same idea.”

“My luck...” Candy snorted a laugh. “It’s Frank and
Roxanne!”

***

Epilogue

S
eptember 7th was the day
Emily Candice Garrett was born. Later that afternoon, reports
indicate that her proud father was seen at the nursery window,
handing out pink cigars.

*Thank you for taking the time to read
Crazy For
You
. If you enjoyed this book, please think about leaving a
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preview of Incredible Dreams by Sandra Edwards.*

***

by

Sandra Edwards

Chapter 1

T
here wasn't a single ghost
in the entire joint. But spirits—now that was another matter. Izzy
Miller was well-acquainted with both. In her experience, the latter
was harder to handle.

She paused in the doorway of the abandoned hangar
and surveyed the vast, near-vacant interior. Dull, dingy windows
smeared with grease and grime from years of neglect lined the top
of the back wall and blocked out most of the sunbeams.

Slow, guarded steps led her just inside the
entryway. Adjusting to the darkened interior took a few seconds.
She fine-tuned her surroundings and blurry images of ancient
aircraft flickered inside the hangar. The ghost planes disappeared
before she could identify the aircraft, but she took them for World
War II era, military.

Excitement surged through her veins and settled in
her lungs. If there was something in here, it had been around a
long time. Longer than the sprites and fairies that had begun to
dive-bomb her head.

Shoo. Izzy swatted at the pesky little creatures.
They were worse than gnats. She hated sprites. Hated that they were
present on ninety-five percent of her cases. Hated their meddling,
interfering, disruptive ways.

Her cell phone vibrated inside the bag hanging off
her shoulder. She let it go to voice mail. Whoever it was could
wait. Nothing was more important than her current project. The
United States Air Force had offered a big fat bonus if she cleared
the hangar by the end of the month. Not that money was her driving
force. The challenge fueled her motivation. Always had. Always
would.

Izzy wandered through the deserted hangar, soaking
up every inkling, letting everything, seen and unseen alike,
penetrate her senses.

Dust and cobwebs covering the remains of old
furniture tickled her nose. The musty scent of neglect threatened
to bring on a sneezing attack.

Her escort Lt. Harry Stark had been quietly
transferring several boxes from his car to the hangar’s interior.
Now, back by her side, he let out a noise that sounded like a cross
between a cough and a gurgle.

“So, you’re a ghost-buster?” The lieutenant’s
laughter rippled through the air and chafed her ego. Why would the
Air Force send her a skeptic?

“If you mean like in the movie...no,” Izzy said
between intermittent nasal spasms and turned her back on her
companion. The sneeze swelled inside her head and exploded. She
covered her face. A loud, hearty kerchoo echoed around the hangar
like a racquet ball.

The lieutenant whipped out a handkerchief. Taking
it, she wondered if he was always this efficient.

A wave of light shimmered and swirled behind him.
Damn sprites. The lieutenant’s face paled, and Izzy suspected the
nymph had tapped him on the shoulder. He stiffened and jerked
around, inspecting the space behind him. The sprite twisted with
him, staying at his back. He pivoted around, tugged at his uniform
and let out a stretched sigh.

She wiped her nose, shot an over-practiced glare at
the nymph, and beckoned the lieutenant to follow. “What I do isn’t
quite so dramatic, nor do I have the aid of technological equipment
that borders on science fiction.” Izzy kept her tone calm, constant
and methodical. Strolling through the hangar, she gravitated toward
a partition along the back wall. “I’m a spiritual therapist. I
remove ghosts or apparitions, and convince spirits to cross
over.”

“So you’re like that girl on TV? The one who talks
to the dead and gets them to go to the light...all in an hour.” His
eyes narrowed and his tone hinted at mockery.

Izzy let it go and focused on his paranormal
education instead. “Sort of. But they don’t come to me. I go to
them.” The sprite circled his head and she ignored it. “I’m
surprised you’ve never heard of me. All branches of the United
States military have been using my services for nearly five
years.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of
you.” Doubt shuddered off his tone. The sprite shot through his
head. Lieutenant Stark let out a sharp gasp and spun around like a
speeding top. Of course, there was nothing for him to see. She
almost felt sorry for him as he wound down and stopped in front of
her, looking like a helpless child in a playground full of
bullies.

Izzy knew he hadn’t seen anything. The sprites
weren’t going to reveal themselves to him, and that warranted a
smile. “You okay, Lieutenant?” False concern masked her
amusement.

“Y-yes.” His voice cracked, his stance straightened
and his chest inflated in a manner that suggested—no, insisted—he
was not spooked.

Izzy turned away from the lieutenant to keep from
laughing in his face. Her gaze drifted to the far wall displaying a
group of old black and white photographs, images of pilots long
since forgotten. She moved from picture to picture, a step at a
time, and stared into the face of each flyer.

She paused a little longer on the boldly handsome
man who stood out amongst the others. His mouth curled into an
attractive smile, forever on the edge of laughter.

Sadness slammed Izzy. Sorrow stole her breath away.
She tried to recover, struggled for every hard-earned mouthful of
air, each eclipsed by the fear that it was her last.