Dead People (36 page)

The best memory was when he held her after they were done. Like he never wanted to let her go.

The door clicked open and she rolled to her back. The ceiling light flashed on. She squinted at the naked man standing in her doorway.

“You left,” Luke said, his voice a grumble.

“I didn’t want Erin to catch us like that.”

“She never comes to my room.” He closed the door and flipped off the light. His bare feet made no sound on the carpet, but she sensed him walking toward her.

“She might change her routine. We can’t take that chance.”

He slid under the covers. Her bed was queen-sized. She’d been sleeping in the middle but she slid over, even though she wasn’t finished telling him how wrong this was.

His hand curved around her waist. “Don’t worry about Erin. I only sleep about six hours a night. I’ll leave before she gets up.”

He snuggled next to her, his arm still around her waist. She turned to her side. This was something she hadn’t counted on.

She should tell him to leave. He spooned against her, and she closed her eyes. Leave, she thought. Leave.

In another minute she’d tell him he had to leave. For now, she wanted to savor, to enjoy... Just a few minutes more...

***

The click of the door woke Cassie. Her back was warm, Luke spooned against her. She remembered last night instantly. Vividly. She smiled at the same instant she heard a gasp.
 

Her smile vanished. She prayed it was Isabel, but that was a long shot as Isabel would have flown through the door instead of opening it. Pushing up on her elbow, Cassie twisted to glance over Luke’s shoulder. Through the open door, she saw the retreating back of a small girl.

She closed her eyes. Damn.

Then she whacked her other elbow into Luke’s ribs.

He grunted, his eyes popping open. “What’s that for?”

“Erin was just here. What are you going to do?”

He threw off the cover, sprang up, and strode bare-assed to the bathroom. “Take a piss,” he said, reaching behind him to scratch his butt.

She flopped back onto the bed and put her hand across her forehead, feeling an impending headache.

The romance hadn’t lasted long. With the sun came common sense and an “Oh shit” feeling the size of Lake Michigan.

No pity, she told herself. It happened, it was over. Now she needed to do damage control. First on her list was Erin.

For herself, last night had been an interlude. She’d known it wasn’t going to last, so there couldn’t be any damage. Sure, she felt bad, but for Erin, not herself.

The toilet flushed. Luke came out, wrapping her bath towel around his hips, and she remembered he’d come into her room naked.

“I’m going back to my room. Are you going to talk to Erin?”

“She’s your daughter. You need to talk to her.” She slept with
this
? What had she been thinking?

Her body sagged with relief. She was okay. She’d worried for nothing. She wasn’t going to leave here brokenhearted. She didn’t even like him much.

The doctors had given her an antidote for the medication that poisoned her. Apparently the antidote for her raging hormones was a bout of hot sex.

Luke gave her a snarky look, as if he were entertaining the same thoughts. With a sharp nod, he strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Charming. How could she have lusted after him? She’d met ghosts with better personalities.

She rolled out of bed. Someone had to talk to Erin.

Fifteen minutes later, her hair damp, she walked into the kitchen where Erin chomped on her granola cereal. No one else was in the room. Cassie gave Erin her happy-to-see-you smile, the one she only brought out on special occasions, mostly for Joe.

“My dad’s upstairs,” Erin said, not looking at Cassie.

“I can see that.” Cassie took a chair. She wanted to reach out and take Erin’s hand, but she knew forcing affection didn’t work.

She pictured her father in her mind, his disapproving face, and her stomach muscles clenched until they hurt. Oh boy, did she know.

“He talked to me about you,” Erin said, staring at her cereal, “but I didn’t believe anything he said. I won’t believe you either.”

“Erin—”

“Don’t pretend you like me.” Erin’s voice shook with unshed tears. “If you did, you wouldn’t sleep with my dad. You’re like all my mom’s friends. You just pretended to like me so he would like you more. It was a big fat act.”

Cassie put her elbows on the table and leaned her forehead into her palms, her fingers threaded in her hair. The poor kid. She needed professional help. But Cassie gave therapy to ghosts, not children.

She lifted her head. “Erin, I
do
like you. That wasn’t an act. But I understand how you feel. I’m sorry your feelings are hurt.” She wanted to say she was sorry she’d slept with Luke, but she’d be lying. Maybe she shouldn’t have done it, but it had been glorious while it lasted. A memory to take with her.

“If you’re sorry, you’ll promise not to do it again.”

“I don’t plan on doing it again.”

“That’s not a promise.” Erin glared at her. “I want you to go away.”

“As soon as I convince Isabel to leave your house, I’ll go too.”

“Promise.”
 

“I promise.” She held up her hand as if testifying in front of a judge. And she smiled. A happy “the world’s all right, I can make that promise and it doesn’t bother me” smile.

If she acted as if it didn’t matter, maybe she’d believe it.

Chapter Forty-seven

What a waste of time. Cassie scowled as she stepped onto the wobbly step stool. She’d already known she was no Nancy Drew, but she wasn’t even Scooby Doo. Her back hurt and she was hungry. For lunch, she’d eaten a Mars bar and an apple. By the emptiness of her stomach, she guessed that was hours ago.

Standing on her tiptoes, she shoved the last handful of books back into the top library shelf. A puff of dust made her cough, the same instant that the stool teetered.

She shrieked and tried to grab the shelf. Instead her grappling fingers found the upper frame that stuck out a good two inches. As she clung, the stool toppled and she shoved her feet toward the shelves, getting a toe hold with one, the books sticking out too far to push in with her other toe.

Inside her chest, her heart hammered. At least she’d worn her sneakers today, only because she hadn’t been able to find her slip-ons. But if she dropped to the floor, she’d land on the knocked over stool.

What else could go wrong?

The shelves moved.

She shrieked louder and hung on as the stack of books creaked open into God knew where, because she sure didn’t. She smelled dust and she saw steps. Her one shelf-free foot hung a good three feet from the ground. When the stack squeaked to a stop, she freed her other toe and let go, falling to a crouch.
 

The stairway. She’d found it!

Nancy and Scooby, move over.

For one second she thought about getting Luke. Going any further could be dangerous.

But she didn’t move, not with the lovely image in her mind of him walking away from her, scratching his ass. Then there was the breakfast conversation with Erin. Not the best start to her day.

Narrowing her eyes, she inspected the steps, covered with a layer of dust that would make Tricia crazy. The dust was undisturbed, no one had been through here for years. Decades.

She didn’t need Luke. Not here, not anywhere in her life.

She walked up the twisting staircase, her steps cautious in case the wood was rotted. But it felt firm under her sneakers, built to last the ages. As she neared the top, light shimmered down from the tower window and she blinked at dancing dust motes.

Her heartbeat skipped. Silly to be excited, but she was. A little scared too. When she was a child, she’d read books about hidden treasure and secret rooms. Perhaps too many.

At the top of the stairway, she stood on a landing and faced a closed door. The wood looked solid and thick, like the one outside Luke’s studio. She turned the door handle and pushed. It resisted for a second, then opened with a screech that lifted the hairs on her nape.

Holding her breath, she peered inside...

“So you finally found it.”

“Isabel.” Relief made Cassie lightheaded. Isabel lounged in the bed like a frumpy Cleopatra, waiting for someone to feed her grapes. Oddly, she looked different today. Her face smoother, less discontented. Maybe it was the dimmer lighting. The dust motes swirled here instead of danced. Cassie didn’t know what time it was but guessed Erin would come home soon.

“This is...” Cassie glanced at the full-sized bed, the linens ivory-yellow, only one solid oak cabinet and a plain wooden chest and chair. An oil lamp sat on the chest. There was a commode in the corner. Cassie felt the remnants of former inhabitants, a happy, hopeful feeling. “...lovely,” she finished.

“This is
mine
.” Isabel sat up, floating a couple feet above the bed, cross-legged, as though perched on an invisible flying carpet. “I found it, I’m keeping it.”

“Isabel, heaven is—”

“Another place where I’d live by someone else’s expectations.” Isabel’s expression turned mulish. “Someone else’s rules. I’m not going. For the first time in my life, I can be
me
. No being perfect for my mother, for Thomas, for the townspeople. Not even for God. It’s just me, and I’m happy.”

“It’s not just you.” Cassie could see her plans to send Isabel to the afterlife flying a mile away by the second. “Other people live in this house.”

“
Him
I can stomach.” Isabel flapped a hand. “He’s in his studio most of the time anyway. But the little girl...” A smile transformed her face, and Cassie felt her jaw drop. Isabel looked actually pleasant. Attractive. Happy. “I always wanted a daughter, but Thomas...there were problems that prevented us from having children. I’d almost forgotten, it’s been so long.”

“You’re trying to scare Erin away.”

Isabel frowned. “You haven’t been paying attention. It’s been weeks since I’ve done that. I care for her now. I can’t be her mother, but I can be a grandmother figure.”

Cassie sucked in her breath. This wasn’t good. It sounded like something Isabel had put a lot of thought into.

“Isabel, heaven is even better. There will be all the daughters you like there.”

“How do you know? Have you ever been there?”

Cassie hated it when they asked this question. “No.”

“At least you didn’t lie to me.”

“If I thought you’d believe me, I might have.”

“So now that you know I’m not leaving, what are you going to do about it?” Isabel floated up another foot, crossing her arms over her chest.

Cassie took another deep breath and thought of her promise to Erin to leave as soon as she convinced Isabel to go to heaven. That wasn’t going to happen, not anytime soon. It wasn’t the first time Cassie had encountered a stubborn ghost, but it was the first time she cared so much.

“I understand why you feel the way you do.” God, could she. Trying to fit in, shrinking her own soul to pretend to be something she wasn’t, feeling herself disappear inch by inch, yet never succeeding.

Some people could fool the world. She’d never been able to fool her own family.

“Don’t try to make me feel sorry for you,” Isabel said. “It’s not going to work.”

“You’re suspicious, and I don’t blame you.” Cassie had, after all, been paid to get rid of her. But sometimes people started jobs and never finished them. Sometimes things happened that people didn’t plan on and couldn’t control.

She shrugged. “Looks like I won’t be getting half my fee.”

“You’re giving up? Just like that?” Isabel narrowed her eyes. “How can you do that?”

Relief washed over Cassie. She wanted to go, she needed to get away from Luke, and now she had a reason to leave.

“Easy. I’ll pack up my things and leave. It was nice knowing you. Have a great after-life.” She narrowed her eyes. “And if you get mean again, playing tricks or doing anything weird, I’ll be back.” She whipped around and strode for the door.

“You’re talking to a dead woman,” Isabel called after her. “What could be weirder than that?”

Cassie didn’t have an answer, so she kept on walking. Inside she felt the emptiness begin. Soon she’d be on her way, leaving Luke and Erin behind her. Even Joe wouldn’t be coming with her.

She’d survive, she told herself, walking carefully down the steps. That’s what she excelled in, even more than talking to ghosts. Survival.

Chapter Forty-eight

Tricia stood inside Luke’s bedroom, her arms wrapped around her chest to stop her shudders. When that didn’t work, she rocked back and forth on her heels. How could her luck be this lousy? She thought she’d taken care of Cassie at the bar, but no, Cassie lived. If only she’d finished that third beer, but, no, she only drank half of it.