“I can’t believe this all happened,” I cry, at a loss for what had occured as I’d been traveling the earth, crafting an elaborate blindfold for myself. This man I’d loved, someone strong and caring had been stripped down to a life of pain and loss. All the attributes he’d been gifted, the intelligence, goodness and beauty were unable to help against tragedy after tragedy.
“We cried there on the banks, holding one another for hours. I sobered up and she rolled me directly into rehab. At the end of it, I’d almost destroyed my business, but people were forgiving because of the extraordinary circumstances with my parents, Monica and the baby. It took 60 days of rehab and a lot of therapy, but I can breathe again. It hurts every day, but if I feel it everyday, and don’t drown it in booze, it’s just a whisper and not a scream.” His voice quivers and I know this is not something he’s talked about with anyone who wasn’t a professional. He is baring his soul to me, and I am bowled over with how much I want to see it all.
“Want to know the funny thing?” he says, looking at me with a bittersweet smile. “I never could have afforded the rehab and therapy if not for the insurance money from mom and dad.”
“Them dying destroyed you and then saved you,” I say.
“I put myself there, but yes,” he laughs tartly. “It all comes full circle.”
“And here we are. Full circle,” I agree.
“Back to basics,” he smiles, the bitterness ebbing away as he stares at me. “You, me, this kitchen and the gang.”
“With a bonus Cara,” I laugh. “And she’s such a babe.”
“I only have eyes for you, I’m afraid,” he tells me, making my eyes light up.
“She’s taken anyhow,” Kayla laughs from the door frame.
“Too bad we have some shitty ghost in the mix too,” Cara says, appearing silently, before looking at the hair on the floor with disgust. “Did you clean out the drain or kill a cat?”
“No,” I say, walking over to the drawer where the ziplock bags used to be, and I’m pleased to see they haven’t moved. “This is courtesy of the shitty ghost.”
I carefully scoop the hair into a bag while trying not to gag, and hand it to Erik who puts it into a drawer.
“Gross,” Cara remarks with a shrug as she sits at the table and rests her elbows and then her adorable face into her palms and looks at me with raised eyebrows. “So you think I’m a babe?”
“You are SO hot,” I tell her, with my thumbs up.
“It’s a good-looking crew,” Juniper says, entering slowly with her cane in front of her, before laughing. “Not that I can verify any longer.”
“Well, you are just as lovely as ever,” Erik says, walking over and patting her shoulder. Juniper smiles and raises her hand to rest atop his.
“I’m sorry for everything, Erik,” she says earnestly, her lower lip quivering, and I wonder if she heard us or used her extrasensory to glean what we’ve been talking about. “I just want normalcy too and I’ve been waiting so long.”
“I know,” Erik says, grabbing her into a hug. “I’m sorry for not believing you, Juni.”
“You know it’s true now?” Juniper whispers hopefully, looking up towards his voice.
“I’m getting there,” he says, bobbing his head from side to side.
“You will believe before the night is through,” Juniper says, voice dropping with conviction.
“Did you go to spooky psychic school to learn how to say these foreboding things so frighteningly at just the right time?” I say, cracking a smile and enjoying the grins spreading on all their faces.
“I was homeschooled by the best ghost for it,” Juniper says, pink lips pulling a bit at the corners. “And when you can’t see, you really get the perfect creepy voice vibe down.”
“Juniper,” Erik says, looking down at her in mock awe. “Did you just make a JOKE?”
“Perhaps,” Juniper says, reaching up to pat his cheeks. “More where that came from if we can banish her.”
I look at my phone and see that the night has advanced considerably. “Well, it looks as though it’s about time we banish her and her split ends.”
I recoil in shock when every cupboard in the kitchen wrenches open violently at the same time in answer.
Chapter 10
Mary
1703
The elevated mood of my picnic with George stayed with me for the next two days. I found myself basking in it as I anxiously awaited my next meeting. The day of, I lamented my lack of fine clothing, and again donned the same tattered dress. I fried up the hoecakes carefully, willing them to be the best I’d ever prepared and made my way to our meeting spot.
I beamed when I saw him already there. He was arranged on a large blanket with a sumptuous display of food. My mouth dropped seeing pot pies, cheeses, breads, apple dumplings and jumble cookies. Two bottles of the Claret sat, with elegant stemware. Sitting in the middle of it all were little pots of preserves and butter.
I couldn’t begin to imagine how he’d transported it on his horse Hugo, but I sat down and enjoyed it all greatly, savoring the lush, creamy butter above all. It transported me to happier times in childhood, breakfasting with mama in the sun room with buttered pastries.
The conversation flowed as easily as the claret and I reveled in the feeling of my world and cares evaporating for those precious hours. The wine freed my head and George elevated my heart and the way he stared at me made my toes curl with pleasure. He cared nothing about my station in life or threadbare garments and focused on the woman in them instead. He saw me, listened to me and cared about my worldview in a way I’d never
