Ghost Walk

Chapter Four

June 21, 1789- Eugenia and I had tea with Clara Vance today, as I was too bored to think of a reason to postpone it. Her company only added to my ennui. All she talked of was witches, for God’s sake! Like the Puritans of old! Her new fixation seems to be those fortunetellers, the Riveras. Her father, the Reverend Vance, warned her they’re devil spawn or some such nonsense. So she’s taken to crossing herself when she passes by their shop and now my dreary sister Eugenia vows that she will, too.

I cannot imagine a more tedious Sunday afternoon!

From the Journal of Miss Lucinda Wentworth

“Grace?” The woman’s voice was demanding and full of authority. “It’s your Auntie Serenity. I know you’re there, so you might as well pick up the phone. Hiding won’t do any good. I’m a psychic , in case you’ve forgotten. I know everything. ”

Grace sank deeper into her collection of pillows, at least half of which were decorated with flowers or mermaids. All of her attention stayed fixed on her carton of vanilla ice cream. “I’m not hearing her say ‘I told you so,’ right now. No way.”

“I told you so about Robert.” Serenity said, as if on cue.

Grace sighed, her gaze rising up to the ceiling in a silent bid for patience.

Jamie arched a brow. “Your aunt is a psychic?”

“She’s a tarot card reader, if you want to get technical. My family owns a palm reading and herb shop, here in town. The Crystal Ball.” Resigned brown eyes met his. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It’s been here since the Revolution, much to Harrisonburg’s dismay.”

Oh, he’d heard of it alright. “Donea be telling me, you’re part of those Riveras?” This uptight little creature came from the most eccentric band of fortunetellers this side of Richmond? Well, that explained the magic he sensed in Grace and why she was trying so hard to suppress it. Death hadn’t done away with Jamie’s sense of humor, so he started laughing. “Bit of the odd-duck in your family, are ya, love?”

Just like he’d been. It was a pleasant surprise to have something in common with this fay girl, even if it was just the fact they both had trouble fitting in with their relatives.

She didn’t appreciate his smile. “I’m glad my dysfunctional life is funny to you.”

“Oh so am I.” He assured her happily. “Would have been a disaster if the only person who could see me was dull.”

“Gracie?” Aunt Serenity continued. “There’s no sense in sulking. I saw it all happen when I did my nightly reading on you. You’re well rid of that asshole Robert. That’s all I’m saying. Your cousin had a bad feeling and I always trust Charity’s feelings, ever since she almost won the lotto that time in Florida.”

“She got two numbers.” Grace held up her fingers, even though her aunt couldn’t very well see them over an answering machine. “Two!”

“I predicted this mess with Robert coming a mile away.” Serenity boasted. “It was inevitable. If you’d listened to me, you would have spared yourself six months of tedium. Plus, the man looks as if he kisses like a sucker-fish.”

Jamie chortled in delight, both at the woman’s obvious hatred of that wanker Robert and at her delightful turn of phrase.

“Oh shut up.” Grace snapped at him.

“I’m sure you sensed Robert was an asshole, too, but you never listen to the foolproof Rivera instincts God gave you.” Serenity continued with a sigh. “You’re so determined to prove you’re ‘normal.’” She made the word sound like it was a synonym for “scurvy.” “Such a waste of talent. Grandpa Truth always said you’d inherited a huge share of the Riveras’ gifts and this is what you do with them. It breaks my heart.”

“Grace, Serenity, Charity, and Truth? ”

“Shut up .” Grace bit off, slanting Jamie a glower. “Everyone in my family has a virtue name. It’s tradition.”

“It’s bloody brilliant, that’s what t’is.”

“Well, fine.” Serenity continued blithely. “I’ll give you a day or so to lick your wounds. But I expect you over here on Saturday, so you can help get the shop ready for the 4 th of July sale. We can’t let Madam Topanga’s magic shop get the jump on us, like they did on Arbor Day. We need something big this time.” She sighed. “If only someone had written down the family recipe for troll powder, way back when. That would bring in the customers.”

“It’s no wonder the whole family’s broke.” Grace told the wine bottle in a sad tone.

“Anyway, the point is, there’s no sense in you wallowing in ice cream and cheap wine.” Serenity counseled. “Which I don’t even need my Tarot deck to tell me you’re doing.”

Grace lifted her Ben and Jerry’s carton towards the phone in a silent toast.

Serenity’s tone turned singsong-y. “And if it makes you feel any better, the cards tell me that you won’t be alone for long. I see a tall, handsome man entering your life soon. And --trust me-- you’re going to like this one. He’s quite a charmer. That’s all I’m saying.”

Grace snorted, slanting a meaningful look in Jamie’s direction. “ Snake charmer, maybe.”

“I can’t wait for you to meet him. He’s just perfect for you! I can already tell.” She paused and then made an inpatient sound. “Oh! I wasn’t going to say anything else, but I just can’t help it. You know I’m terrible at secrets.” Serenity gave a squeal of happiness. “I really think he’s going to be your Partner. Congratulations! Try to act surprised when you meet him. ”

Grace froze, the spoon suspended halfway to her lips.

Jamie looked between the phone and Grace, trying to figure out what the hell that meant. The woman looked like she’s seen more than just a ghost. “Partner in what?”

“Nothing.” She said far too quickly. “It has nothing to do with you. Nothing at all.”

His eyebrows slammed together, unaccountably pissed that she sounded so desperate to deny him. “Of course it’s ta do with me! What other tall and handsome man has entered your life, recently?”

She snorted as if that indisputable logic was sheer craziness. “Well, I just started watching the Star Wars movies, so it’s probably Han Solo.”

Jamie scoffed at that. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s clearly me .” He frowned. “…And you’ve only just seen the Star Wars movies? For God’s sake, I’m dead and I’ve seen them all twice.”

“Plus he wears a hat!” Serenity chirped. “I’ve always had a weakness for men in hats. It’s so mysterious , don’t you think?”

“I wear a hat.” Jamie reminded her, warming to this topic.

“It’s not you! God, can’t you disappear or something? Leave me in peace.”

He could make it so he was invisible to her, but he wasn’t about to do such a pointless thing. Possession roared through him, louder than it had ever been. Jamie had had to fight for everything he ever wanted and this was no different. Grace was his and he wouldn’t share her. He was her partner. The thought fixed in his mind and wouldn’t let go. His twinkle of knowing was a damn searchlight when it came to this girl.

He pointed to his tricorne. “Han Solo doesna wear a hat.”

“Fine. Indiana Jones, then.

He disregarded that foolishness. “I’m also smashingly mysterious. You see how it can be no one but me?”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Please. You talk too much to be mysterious. ”

“You could use a charming mystery man in your life.” Serenity decided. “They’re the very best cure for all of life’s problems. And they usually look spectacular naked. That’s all I’m saying.”

“That’s never all you’re saying.” Grace muttered.

Serenity gave a trilling laugh, as if she’d somehow heard that remark. “Ta for now, darling.”

Jamie smiled as she hung up the phone. “And just so you know… I do look spectacular naked.” He assured Grace without a drop of modesty.

“For the last time, she’s not talking about you!”

“Of course she is. Who else could she be meaning?”

“Someone who’s not dead, maybe?”

Jamie winced a bit, his certainty fading under the unrelenting truth of her words. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.” He muttered, refusing to be hurt.

The logical part of him knew it was pointless to care about this “partner” absurdity. Whatever it meant to Grace, it was the province of the living and he was no longer one of them. She was the one he’d been waiting for. Alive or dead, Jamie would have known that with all the magic inside of him. He recognized her with a certainty that defied explanation.

…But what good did that do for Grace? He was still a ghost. He needed her, but it was no true partnership. It couldn’t be.

She didn’t need him.

In his whole life and afterlife, Jamie wasn’t needed by anyone. Growing up, he’d heard that enough times that it had imbedded itself into his psyche. In fact, “No one fucking needs you!” had been the last thing his father shouted after him when Jamie left home forever. It was possibly the only time the old man was completely right. In the two hundred and fifty years since that day, nothing had proven him wrong, that was for damn sure. Nobody had ever needed him. No one ever would. Certainly not this fay creature of ice cream and mermaid pillows and clean, shiny hair.

Grace stared up at Jamie for a beat like she could see into his thoughts. “I’m sorry.” She said softly. “I love my aunt, but she drives me nuts sometimes. It’s not your fault that I got upset. It’s just been a really bad day, okay? Let’s just get back to the whole ‘clearing your name’ thing.”

If she was willing to discuss finding the truth behind the murders, Jamie didn’t have much of a choice but to follow her lead. No doubt she knew that and it was exactly why she was suddenly so eager to tackle the subject. The whole situation still pissed him off, though.

“You just told me clearing my name is impossible.” He reminded her sarcastically. “Where else can the conversation go?”

“It is impossible. Whoever killed those girls, the evidence against him is probably long gone. You can trust me on this. I used to be a crime scene investigator.”

Jamie stopped brooding and gaped at her. “Like on TV?” Sudden joy filled him. With Grace, there was always some new reason for hope. He was beginning to see that. She was forever opening doorways that he’d thought were sealed tight. He could never stay irritated with this small, fay miracle sent to save him. “You know about fingerprints and such?”

“Hang on, ghosts watch TV?”

“What else would I be doing with eternity? I can’t exactly hold a book.” He demonstrated his insubstantial-ness by passing his hand back and forth through a particularly hideous lamp with a flamingo painted on it. Bleeding Christ, it was like the girl made it her mission to rescue all the hopeless furnishings in Virginia and give them a home. “Movies and television have made my unlife bearable.”

Once again, she seemed absurdly fascinated with the wrong thing. “What kind of shows do ghosts like? I mean aside from multiple viewings of Star Wars .”

“I donea know any other ghosts, so I can’t be sure. Personally, I like that show with the magical high school best. The one with the bonnie little cheerleader, who hunts werewolves and loves the Frankenstein boy. They get the facts of ghosts all wrong, but it’s quite a nice production.”

“ Haunted High ?” Her eyebrows soared. “The teen soap opera?”

“That’s the one.” Jamie nodded. “But I watch other shows, too. I can’t change the channel, so I have to watch whatever the living do. And about a dozen shows on television are about murders that get solved in an hour, thanks to the computers. More than a dozen. Sometimes I think that’s the only plot your writers can think of.” And it was exactly what he needed. Someone to use the magic of science to clear his name. “You solve murders professionally?”

“I used to be a small part of solving murders, but I don’t anymore. I told you, I burned out.”

So she’d said, except Jamie had no idea what that meant. “Burned out?”

“Yeah, burned out. As in, I used to investigate blood spatter and collect DNA evidence, but now I give ghost tours for minimum wage.”

“But you have the skills to…”

She shook her head, cutting him off. “I can’t go back to what I was doing. I’ll have another breakdown and I can’t have another breakdown. Normal people don’t have breakdowns.”

“Didn’t we establish that you’re a bit abnormal, lass? I mean --Jesus, Mary, and Joseph-- you’re seeing ghosts.”

The woman didn’t like hearing that opinion. She heaved a pillow at him and only seemed to get angrier when it passed right through his body. “God! You are the most annoying person I’ve ever met!”

“Nonsense. I met that wanker Robert and he’s far more annoying than me. Aunt Serenity is right. The man’s a complete asshole.”

Just thinking about him put Jamie in a foul mood, again. His jaw tightened every time he recalled the way Robert grabbed Grace’s arm, jerking her to a stop when she tried to walk away from him. It kept playing in his head on a loop, reminding him that he was essentially useless to Grace. The same way he’d been useless when his bastard of a father had manhandled his mother. Robert could have harmed Grace right in front of his eyes and there wasn’t a damn thing Jamie could’ve done about it.

“He’s a bad man, Grace. I donea know why you didn’t realize it sooner.” Jamie paused. “Also his taste is just abysmal . Both in furnishings and in women, if he fancied that shrill pizza girl.”

Grace hesitated for a beat, realizing there was a compliment buried in there somewhere. Large brown eyes blinked in surprise, just as they had when he’d talked of her beauty back at Robert’s. Even a small bit of flirting seemed to befuddle her. “Thank you.” She said with a bemused frown. “I think.”

Jamie’s gaze traced over her amazed face. “You’re welcome.”

Who would choose another girl over Grace? It made no sense, but he supposed he should thank Robert for his stupidity. Grace had left the wanker and that was all that mattered. Not only was Robert a dangerous man, but Jamie couldn’t tolerate the idea of another male having a claim on her. Maybe he was just a ghost, but he hated the idea of some living, breathing rival, who could offer her things Jamie couldn’t.

The woman was his.

“I’d be happy to haunt the bastard, if you’d like.” Jamie offered helpfully. “Least I can do.”

Grace drew in a deep breath and muttered something about cornfields again. “I’m trying to be normal, alright?” She said. “Maybe it’s a work in progress, but I’m not having you paranormally torment my ex and I’m certainly not helping you CSI a two hundred year old murder case. Those are not things normal people do.”

Jamie wasn’t giving up. “Someone killed those girls. Two hundred years ago or not, they were real people and they really died. They deserve to have their murderer brought to justice.”

“You were brought to justice.”

“ Except I didn’t bloody do it! ”

The two of them glowered at each other for a long moment and then Grace looked away, her lips pressed together. “Peaceful green cornfields. Peaceful green cornfields.” She rubbed her temples. “Peaceful. Green. Cornfields.”

God, but she drove him batty when she did that. Jamie sighed and got himself under control. The last thing he wanted was to antagonize Grace. “I apologize for shouting at you.” He held up his palms. “I just want you to believe me.”

“Well, I don’t .” She slouched down in her chair, brooding. “And I’m right about the wigs, too.”

Jamie threw up his hands at her slightly tipsy stubbornness. “Bleeding Christ…”

“It’s true! They have a whole lecture on it at the Harrisonburg wig maker’s shop and I’ve been to it twice .”

He would never understand why twenty-first century mortals wanted to squander their holidays in Harrisonburg. Back in the 1940s, when the historical society had first proposed the idea of becoming a tourist attraction, he’d laughed his ass off. How could learning about wigs and horseshoes ever be entertaining? The eighteenth century hadn’t been all that stimulating the first time around. He almost felt sorry for the modern world, if that’s how they had fun. He’d had far better ways to spend his time, when he was alive.

He wasn’t stupid enough to tell Grace any of that, though. For whatever reason, she liked dull things and he was in no position to burn bridges. He backed off, for the moment. “Not everyone wore wigs.” He said, going for a safer topic and calmer tone.

“Yes, they did.” The woman clearly couldn’t hold her liquor worth a damn. It brought out the confrontational side that she claimed not to have. T’was quite adorable. “Is that even your real hair?”

“Aye, every strand.”

“Because it’s a very beautiful color.” She sounded irritated by that, too. “I’ve never known anyone with hair that was all auburn-y gold like that. I saw a picture of you in a history book and I thought it had to be a wig. All of you wore wigs back then.”

“I didn’t.” His mouth curved, liking the fact that she liked his hair.

Grace made a face. “I should have bought more wine at the supermarket. One bottle clearly isn’t going to be enough to make you tolerable.”

“No one should ever buy wine at a supermarket. Life is far too short to settle.”

“Oh Lord. Tell me you’re a wine snob, too.”

“Well, if I could still eat, drink, or taste, I’d surely be more selective than you are.” He paused, still irritated by Robert’s very existence. “Being a wee bit more discriminating in all areas of life would benefit you greatly, if you want my opinion.”

“I am discriminating.” She snapped. “Incredibly, seriously, amazingly discriminating, for your information.”

Jamie arched a brow.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that Robert was such a louse?” She demanded, correctly interpreting his skepticism. “That doesn’t count against me. He seemed pleasant enough and totally safe.”

“Pleasant and safe. A rousing endorsement for any man.”

Grace glanced away. “All I’ve ever wanted is to feel safe.” The words were barely a whisper.

Jamie’s heart hadn’t beat in over two hundred years, but he swore it gave a lurch at that soft confession. His lips parted wanting to offer her his protection. …But that was pointless. What bloody good could a ghost be? He closed his mouth, calling himself a fool. The woman should have someone alive . Some solid and respectable gentlemanly partner, who could provide her with security and a happy future. Jamie knew that.

But he needed her too much to care.

He shook his head refusing to even consider the deeper ramifications of claiming Grace for his own. If he thought about the impossibilities of it, he might discover something he didn’t want to find. She was his . That was all that really mattered.

Grace was rallying again. “Anyway, I was very happy to go out with someone so husband material-y. His behavior is very disappointing. Plus, now I’m going to have to take back the birthday gift I bought for him, which will be a real pain, since I didn’t keep the receipt. What am I going to do with a beige tie?”

Jamie made a face at her vaguely inconvenienced tone. “You would have been miserable with such a man. You just caught him cheating on you and you’re barely caring at all! Obviously it wasn’t a love match.”

“Maybe not, but after the year I’ve had, I needed some stability, alright?” She frowned in deep thought. “But the next time I get a boyfriend, I’m going to hold out for a guy who wakes up the pizza-tramp part of me. It seemed like it would be a lot more fun.”

Jamie wasn’t even going to touch that comment. “What happened last year?” He asked instead.

Her lips compressed into that familiar mutinous line. “Nothing.”

“Is that ‘nothing’ the reason you burned up?”

“Burned out .” She muttered and ate some more ice cream. “And that’s none of your business.”

Jamie tried not to notice the way her tongue licked over the spoon. For a fleeting second it occurred to him that he’d been wrong before. The worst aspect of being a ghost was being unable to kiss Grace Rivera’s lush mouth. To feel those perfectly shaped lips beneath his, tasting the essence of her and swallowing the gentle sounds she made.

Of course, even if he was still alive, he wouldn’t have been allowed to touch her. Ladies like Grace were looking for “husband material.” Someone normal and pleasant to keep them safe. Jamie was nothing more than a passing diversion to everyone he met.

God, but that pissed him off.

“You might as well tell me what happened to you.” Jamie flopped down in the seat across from Grace. “I’m going to be here for the next seventy years, so there’s no sense in keeping secrets.”

She froze, her gaze jumping back to his. “ Seventy years? Wait, what do you mean seventy years?”

“Well, you’re --what-- thirty?”

“Thirty-two, but…”

Jamie cut her off. “Still very young for your century.” He assured her. “Now, I donea understand all of the medical advances of this time period, but I’ve seen that they work wonders. A hundred-and-two will be a perfectly average age, when you’re an old woman. I’ve no doubt that you’ll live to see it.”

“Even if I do, you’re certainly not going to be there. You have to go , Jamie.”

That was the first time in nearly a quarter of a millennium that someone had addressed him by name. The sound of it melted Jamie’s insides and hardened his resolve. For whatever reason, this girl had been given to him. Handed into his care. He wasn’t sure why or how, but he knew she was a gift from Heaven itself. Without Grace, he was nothing at all. Just a lost voice, screaming into a void.

Prickly or not, he would never, ever leave her.

“Oh no, lass.” Jamie shook his head. “As long as I’m stuck in this plane, I’m going to be right by your side. And since I sure seem to be stuck here until my name is cleared… and you won’t help me clear my name,” he shrugged helplessly, “it looks as though we’d best be getting used to each other’s company.”

He reached over to give her knee a pat and that strange electrical charge zapped through him again. Ghosts didn’t need to breathe, but Jamie still released a shuddering breath. He hadn’t been imagining it before. He could feel her. Jamie’s hand couldn’t make contact with her skin, but he could feel her.

And she felt better than anything he could imagine.

So many times, over the decades and centuries, he’d tried to recall what it was like to be alive. To be able to touch someone. To have them know he was there. To feel them. As hard as he’d tried to cling to the memories, the reality of it was overwhelming. Feeling Grace Rivera was simply… magic.

Maybe she really was part fay.

Grace felt him, too. She jerked back, looking frantic. “No! I mean it, no way are you staying here. I have a nice, normal life to live and it can’t be infested with spirits.” She waved a hand around. “I don’t care how sexy your accent is, you’re leaving .”

Jamie decided to focus on the positive aspects of that rant. “I like your accent, too, lass. Southern ladies always have the nicest drawls.”

She appeared ready to strangle him. Too bad the lynch-mob had beaten her to it.

“I don’t have a…” She stopped and took a deep breath. “No. This isn’t going to work. I see what you’re doing, but, no matter what you threaten or try, I’m not helping you solve those murders.” She staggered to her feet, hampered by her bulky bathrobe and the unaccustomed quantities of wine she’d consumed. “I just can’t, okay? I’m sorry. I wish you luck, but I’m afraid our association is over. I am going to go in my room and close the door. Come morning, you will be gone and I’ll pretend this was all a dream.”

“No, I donea think so.” Jamie stacked his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair. “I’m content to stay right here in my new home.” He looked around with a sigh. “Granted, it’s not the furniture I would’ve chosen, but we’re both making compromises in this relationship, so I’ll endure.”

Emotion put color into her face and made her even lovelier. “We don’t hav e a relationship and this isn’t your home! I’m the one who pays the rent and I want you gone!”

“You say that now , but I’m a grand fellow to have about. Very witty and full of useful advice.”

“I don’t want your advice!”

“Open your mind, lass! I can help you select your next beau, so you donea end up with another rotter like Robert.” Lie. He had no intention of letting any other man near her. “I can follow along on your job each day, so you get all your historical facts straight.” Another lie. Grace needed to find other employment, because being a tour guide was clearly crushing her spirit. “Oh and I’ve got a tremendous singing voice.” Damnable lie of there ever was one, but pirates weren’t known for their scrupulous honesty. “Why, in a few decades, you’ll wonder how you ever got along without me.”

Her perfect lips pressed together in frustration. It was a crying shame what she did to that lush mouth. Never letting it smile and forever compressing it into disagreeable lines. “You can’t just move into my apartment. I won’t allow it.”

“How do you plan to stop me?”

Brown eyes narrowed, desperately trying to think of a way to physically boot a ghost out the door. There wasn’t one, of course. There was nothing harder to get rid of than a specter intent on staying put.

Jamie waited for her to see it was hopeless.

“I’ll give it three days.” She finally said in a tight voice. “For three days, I will try my very best to identify your eighteenth-century madman. But you leave on the 4 th of July. Got it? When I show you that it’s impossible to locate a suspect who’s been dead for two hundred years, you accept it and vanish out of my life. Agreed?”

Jamie nearly scoffed at that. He was a ghost with a mission and he’d see it fulfilled no matter how long it took. Three days or three decades, it meant nothing to him. And, either way, he certainly didn’t plan to leave Grace’s side. So long as he was trapped on Earth, he would be within five feet of this girl.

No way in hell would he go back to the solitude without her.

“Agreed.” Another lie, but she really should know better than to trust his word on the matter. After all, only gentleman had to honor their deals and, dead or alive, Captain James MacCleef Riordan was certainly no gentleman.