Girl of Mine (20 page)

“They go back to their room and decide to order room service. The husband makes a quick run to the ice machine and when he returns, he places a bottle of sparkling cider on ice to chill. The wife is touched by his thoughtfulness. They eat dinner in bed, watching a movie they chose on pay-per-view. Overall they have a romantic evening, filled with tender moments. In rare form, her husband constantly professes his love and how happy he is with her. He’s doting and speaks of some of their most treasured memories, things she hasn’t thought about for years. She’s thrilled, pleased with the state of her marriage, but the eerie feeling never leaves the wife and she has a hard time relaxing.

“She sleeps clinging to her husband and has several nightmares during the course of the evening. She awakens a few times to find her husband awake and simply staring at her. He tells her he loves her and to go back to sleep. She does, knowing she is safe. The husband works long hours and had been looking forward to sleeping in, but they both arise early and are eager to get on the road at first light. By unspoken agreement, a leisurely morning is nixed.

“The wife wonders if he is as creeped out by the hotel as she is, but doesn’t broach the subject. It’s almost as if speaking of the eerie feeling will make it real and bring it to life. They pack up and leave the room and the wife breathes a sigh of relief. She can’t get out of the hotel fast enough. As they walk down the hall toward the elevator, they pass the alcove where the ice machine is located. The wife glances inside and nearly trips on her own feet. The husband wraps his arm around her shoulder and whispers in her ear, ‘Just keep walking. Keep your eyes forward.’ The wife gulps in air, her breathing labored, but she does as he says, even though tears are now pouring down her face.”

“Wait. What did she see in the alcove?” Jill asked, absorbed in the story.

“Her husband’s dead body, lying in a pool of blood.”

Jill let out a shaky breath. “So . . . he’s . . .”

“A ghost,” Troy confirmed. “He walks her to the elevator in silence. Several people are in the elevator already. Her husband whispers in her ear, ‘Look no one in the eye.’ She does as he says, her hands shaking and her knees wobbling. When the elevator opens, the lobby is filled with nameless, expressionless people, staring blankly and wandering around aimlessly. ‘Just walk forward,’ her husband says and she obeys. He walks her to the glass door at the front of the hotel and pushes the door open. ‘Go,’ he says. ‘Don’t ever come back. Don’t even look back.’ The glass door closes, but the husband stays inside the hotel. Panicked, the wife turns back and tries to open the door. It’s locked. The husband stands there, his hand on the glass, a last farewell. ‘No!’ the wife screams. ‘Come with me.’ He shakes his head in the negative and mouths the words, ‘I love you.’ Suddenly the expressionless people come forward and the husband is engulfed by the masses, disappearing in the crowd. The wife turns and runs to her car.”

Troy didn’t say anything more as he looked between them with a sly grin.

“And?” Luke asked.

“And that’s the end,” Troy finished with a satisfied air.

The buzzer on the oven began to beep and Jill nearly jumped out of her skin. “That’s the creepiest story I’ve ever heard. You have a sick mind, Troy Kelley.”

“Pays the bills,” Troy said, offering them a nonchalant shrug.

“How do you sleep at night?” Jill hid her shaking hands. She’d always been a wimp when it came to scary movies or stories.

“Like a baby.”

Luke frowned, seeming a little disturbed. “How do you come up with that stuff?”

“Just comes to me.”

“And you think Luke’s mind is in the gutter?” Jill asked.

“Oh, I know it is, and always has been.” Troy went back to cutting zucchini.

“That’s me. The original degenerate,” Luke joked, but Troy’s manner toward Luke bothered her. If he had the chance to toss a dig at Luke, he did it with no hesitation. A little friendly humor would’ve softened his taunts, but there was none.

Jill pulled the eggplant out of the oven. “Hot!” she hollered automatically.

“Why do you do that?” Troy asked.

“Sorry, it’s a habit. When you work in a busy kitchen with lots of people bustling around, there are several things we yell out as a common courtesy. It helps to prevent accidents. When we’re carrying something that’s hot, we yell, ‘Hot!’ If we are walking around with a knife in hand, we yell, ‘Sharp!’ If we are turning a corner, we yell, ‘Corner!’ If we are coming up on someone’s back, we yell, ‘Behind you!’ It’s just kitchen lingo. Keeps everyone safe.”

“Huh. Smart.” Troy loved hearing details about being a chef and Jill loved having someone who wanted to hear about it.

She continued. “When something is almost done cooking we yell, ‘Two away!’ It means it’s about two minutes away from being done. When we’re out of something for the night, we yell, ’86 it!’ It means take it off the menu. If we have a limited amount of a menu item for the day, we might say, ‘I’ve got 8 all day.’ That would mean we only have 8 servings for the day and that’s it. Sometimes it’s like learning another language.”

“Interesting,” Troy muttered as he returned his concentration to his task.

It was two hours later when they finally took their leave. Troy loved everything they had made and had even taken a plate up to his mother, who wasn’t feeling well.

Luke patted Troy on the back. “See ya, buddy.”

“See ya, Luke.”

Luke and Jill went to his house and snuggled up on the couch. “Why is Troy so . . .?”

“Grouchy?” Luke provided.

“Um, yeah.”

“When he hurt his legs, he changed. He became bitter and sullen. That’s not the real Troy. I knew the real Troy and I just pretend that’s who he still is. I know he’s still in there, I see a glimmer of him every once in awhile. I ignore the rest.”

“You’re a good friend.” Jill noticed a new frame on his bookshelf. “Is that us?”

“Yep. It’s from my mom.”

Jill got up to get a closer look. It was a picture of the two of them, one that his mom had snapped. Luke stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her. Their cheeks were pressed together and they were both smiling at the camera. The wood frame was personalized with their names emblazoned across the bottom half—Lucas and Jillian.

“Heads up, my mom loves personalized stuff. You might even say she’s a woman obsessed.”

“I remember that from your birthday party. It’s sweet though. I love it.”

“If every present you’d ever received in your life was personalized with your name, you’d be on my side.”

“Like what?”

“Mugs, key chains, pens. The list goes on. And on. And on.”

“Show me.”

“I don’t wanna scare you away.”

Jill placed her hands on her hips. “I wanna see.”

She followed Luke into the kitchen. He took a large bowl out of the cupboard. It said, “Luke’s Popcorn Bowl.”

Jill stifled a laugh and he cast her a dirty look. “What else?” Her curiosity was stoked.

He opened a cupboard, revealing several mugs that said “Luke” on them. “You cannot drink from these, they are
mine
,” he told her mock-sternly.

“I’ll remember that next time I’m thirsty.” Jill tried to hide her smile and failed. “Is that all?”

“I wish.” He opened the hall closet and took out a large fake pumpkin. It had a capital G emblazoned on it in a flowery script surrounded by fluerons.

“What do you do with it?” Jill asked, swallowing a giggle.

“It’s for the doorstep in the Fall. It’s never seen the light of day and it never will. I’m not putting it out, so don’t ask me to.”

“It’s a . . . thoughtful gift.” A shout of laughter escaped and she covered her mouth. “Sorry.” It wasn’t really the type of gift one gave to a bachelor, even when he owned his own home.

“Feel free. I’m with you a hundred percent. Christmas is pure torture.”

“Anything else I should be aware of?”

“Follow me.”

Luke went up the stairs and she followed. On the way up he pointed towards a large wooden sign on the wall—without looking at it—that screamed GRAHAM RESIDENCE. “It was a housewarming gift.” He sighed.

When his parents decided to purchase a smaller retirement home on the outskirts of town, Luke bought his childhood home from them. They’d given it to him for a price well below market value. He had the place completely renovated. It was modern and updated, bright and airy. Jill loved his home. However, she’d assumed the
Graham Residence
sign had been left behind by his parents.

It would appear not.

He paused at his bedroom door and pointed with a flourish of his hand to a stylish plaque on his door. It read “Luke’s Room.”

“In case you were wondering where you are, now you know.”

“I’m so relieved. I was feeling a little lost,” Jill told him, tongue in cheek. “Was this from your childhood?”

“I wish I could lie and say yes. But, nope, it was a recent gift. If she comes over and doesn’t see the things she’s bought me being used, her feelings are hurt. I’m doomed.”

“So the doorstep pumpkin does makes an appearance every once in awhile?”

“It might have spent one very long evening in the entryway, but that’s as far as it got. And it was begging to be put back in the closet the whole time.”

“So, your initial-wearing pumpkin can speak?”

“It won’t shut up.”

“What does it say?”

“It says ‘Please put me out of my misery.’ It doesn’t want to live.”

Jill snickered as she followed Luke into his bedroom. She hadn’t seen Luke’s bedroom before. It was masculine, clean, and sleek—if you didn’t count the plaque on his door or the pillow on a chair in the corner that screamed “Lucas.” On his dresser sat a wooden valet with LUCAS GRAHAM etched on it. He opened his closet door. A hook on the door announced, “Lucas.” He pulled a t-shirt out of his closet that said “Luke” on the upper right breast. Then he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. It held his initials, “LCG,” in block lettering.

Sidetracked, Jill noticed several track trophies on Luke’s closet shelf. “Hey, why don’t you have your trophies on display?”

He shrugged as if they didn’t matter. But Jill could’ve sworn a fleeting look of anguish washed over his face.

“Just never wanted to have ‘em out.”

He changed the subject quickly when he held up a duffel bag with L. GRAHAM embroidered on it.

“Okay, make it stop. I’ve seen enough,” Jill said, finally giving in to her laughter. “Is there more?”

“Tip of the iceberg. Just wait until Christmas. It will be your turn. Who knows, maybe she’ll find you a stepstool with your name carved into it.”

“Hey, no short jokes, buddy.”

Luke chuckled right along with her, then his expression sobered. He approached until they stood face to face.

“Listen, Mr. Army-Cop Man, this proves you are a big ole softie.” Jill let her eyes roam his features, loving every slope and valley.

“Guilty,” he said, his voice a mere whisper.

He clasped their hands together for a moment, then slowly glided his fingertips up her arms, until he reached her shoulders. Still using his fingertips, he traced the lines of her face, as if a blind man memorizing every detail.

When he leaned forward and their lips met, he allowed the meeting to remain as light as his touch.

“I loved watching you cook tonight. You’re pretty amazing, Jillian Claire Barrett,” he said in between feathery kisses.

They’d been dating for two months now and Jill knew she was madly in love with him. No doubts.

“I think you’re pretty amazing yourself, Lucas Graham.”

Jill loved his soft and sweet kisses. But tonight something palpably changed between them. His arms wrapped around her and tender and gentle transformed to passionate and fervent. Jill knew it took them both by surprise.

Luke paused, just to simply look at her, both of them breathing a little heavily, both of their hearts racing at an abnormal speed. She could feel his heart beating wildly against her chest, matching her own crazy rhythm. The kiss resumed, at once turning deep, and yet somehow it also felt profound because of the underlying message it conveyed. Jill received the meaning in his physical communication even before he said it out loud.

“I love you, Jill,” he whispered with his lips pressed to hers. “I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said it—and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.

21

Luke and Jill
April 2003

Present Day

“I love you, Jill,” Luke whispered, bringing her back into the present.

After dating for five months, Luke had proposed on a cold January day. They’d scheduled their wedding for April, only eight months after they’d met. Was it too fast? Had Luke been unsure of them as a couple?

Jill held his face in her hands. “Luke, I can’t marry Troy, I
won’t
marry Troy. You know that, right?” Had she made herself clear on that subject? “How can I marry Troy when I’m in love with you? We’re back together. Everything has changed.”

Yes, everything had changed very quickly. Things had always moved quickly between them. Their engagement had only lasted for two months, however, when Luke called off their wedding one month before the big day.