Ghostly Liaison (8 page)

She jerked away. “It’s complicated. Please don’t ask.”

“Bridget, I’m not giving up on you.”

Her eyes glistened. “I wish you would.” She lowered her head. “Do you have any more work to do in the house tonight?”

He could make up something to stick around, but he couldn’t very well convince her to change her mind with her mother in the house. There would be other days. “No. I’ll be back tomorrow and finish the bathroom.”

“Good night, then.” She limped her way inside.

Well, he certainly had work to do. Maybe the road to Bridget was through her mother, which meant he needed to mend fences with her. Flowers had always worked with his mother. They certainly couldn’t hurt with Mona.

He left in higher spirits, with the memory of Bridget’s lips against his. An act he planned on repeating in the near future and often.

* * * *

Bridget leaned against the door as she closed it. Her heart raced with excitement. She still couldn’t believe Rob wanted to date her, not Tori. No one had ever picked her over her cousin.

She could still feel his lips against hers. How wonderful would it have been to feel his arms around her, too? She so badly wanted to give in, and almost had, but once he got a look at the real her and knew the truth… It would hurt less to end it now. Before she got in too deep.

“Are you okay?” Mom pulled the measuring tape across the bottom of the window sill.

That little action caused Bridget to burn with anger, a welcome change from the sexual frustration. “I’m fine.” She limped to the kitchen and placed her backpack on the counter. Her knee had swollen tight. “I told you I couldn’t go shopping until the weekend.”

Her mother reeled in the tape with a snap and wrote on a small notebook. “I assumed that meant you didn’t have any money until then. But since I planned on giving them to you as a house-warming gift, I didn’t think you’d mind. I didn’t realize you were dating the landlord.”

“I’m not dating him.”

“So, you’re only having sex?”

“What? No! Oh God. We’re so not having this conversation.”

“Then tell me what I should assume when I catch you kissing in the driveway?”

Her mother still had the power to transport her back to high school after she’d been caught kissing the boy next door. “Assume whatever you want. It’s none of your business.”

“Bridget! Is that any way to talk to your mother?”

“And how should I talk to you? I’ll be thirty this year and you treat me like a child.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that since the accident…”

“You were hoping I’d need you more? You want me to stay being your little girl?”

Mom put the notebook on the sill and placed the tape on top. “I suppose there might be a little truth in that. I almost lost you, Bridget. It was the worst time of my life. And now you’ve moved out.”

“I wasn’t living with you before the accident.” Bridget couldn’t stand on her leg any longer and sat on one of the dinette’s chairs. A warm bath called for her, but would have to wait.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t happy then, either.” Mom sat in the chair beside Bridget. “What’s the matter? You’re hurting.”

Oh great. A lecture from Kate was bad enough. Now she would have to get one from her mother. “Muscles have tightened up a bit. I’m fine.”

“I told you not to ride that bike.”

“I know, but you don’t have to worry any more. I can walk to work now.” She looked at the worry lines across her mother’s forehead. Was this normal for all mothers or had she just been lucky? “Mom, you need to get you some friends. Better yet, why don’t you and Dad go on a cruise or something? I can’t be your life. It isn’t healthy for either of us.”

“You know your father won’t go on a cruise. He has a hard time taking any vacation.”

“He might surprise you. Have you even tried?”

Mom looked down at her lap. “You’re really trying to get rid of me, huh?”

The pounding intensified and Bridget reached for her temples but stopped herself. Why worry her mother more? “I’m not trying to get rid of you. I have my life, you have yours. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to work?”

“And you don’t want me in your life?”

“Of course I do, but I think you need a friend you could talk to.”

“I talk to you.”

“No, Mom, you don’t.” Bridget took a deep breath. She hadn’t planned on disappointing her mother tonight, but apparently that was the agenda.

“But what if I did? Will you be my friend?”

She loved her mother, but being her friend? Maybe it could work. “On the condition I’m not your only friend and you don’t talk about Dad.”

“I can’t talk about your father?”

“Not in the personal, bedroom-way, no. You have to find other friends for that.”

Mom nodded. “Can we talk about your boyfriends?”

Boyfriends? As in more than one? Rob wasn’t even one. Bridget briefly closed her eyes. This friend thing was going to take some work. “Only if I bring it up, okay? I need my space.”

“And curtains.”

Did her mom just crack a joke? Bridget laughed and gave her a hug. “Yes, and curtains.”

Bridget and Mona hung the curtains and chatted. Charlie was almost jealous. Their closeness brought back fond memories of similar times with her mother, who’d died much too young. The pain of losing her had never quite gone away, even in death.

Existence as a ghost was the pits. She could talk, but why bother when all the conversations were one-sided—hers. And having only two of her five senses was frustrating to say the least. Sight was great and she could hear, but not being able to touch, smell, or taste the things around her tortured her. She couldn’t even enjoy the heat of the sun. She would remain the same temperature—cold.

Not the shivering-in-the-winter type of cold, but the emptiness-of-never-feeling-warmth type.

That was one area where she did affect others. If anyone walked through her, they shivered. Rob hadn’t reacted the first time she had touched him—probably in shock from finding her dead—but he had rubbed his arms and checked the AC the other times. After that, she made it a point to keep her distance. Why give him an excuse to stay away?

Mr. Murdock sufficed at times. At least he liked watching TV. But he seemed more susceptible to her coldness, no matter how far away she stood.

Then there was Bridget. A godsend. Too bad she only had the sight when they were alone. Boy, what fun Charlie could have then, making it look as if Bridget were talking to thin air. Nothing better than a good prank. Of course, that might cause Bridget to move out, so maybe it was for the best. Still, that didn’t mean Charlie couldn’t have fun in other ways.

She popped into the doorway of the bedroom, where mother and daughter were currently hanging curtains and getting along a little better than earlier—actually laughing at times.

Mona sat on the bed and slid a panel onto one of the rods. “Rob’s kind of cute, isn’t he?”

“Mom, we’re not going to talk about him again, are we?”

“Oh, yes,” Charlie said. “Please talk about Robbie. I want to know what you think.”

“All I said was he’s kind of cute. Can’t you talk about him as a friend?”

Bridget smirked. “I can, but can you?”

“If at any time you feel I’ve reverted back to being a mother, let me know. But I need the practice.”

Bridget laughed as she took the covered rod from her mother. “Fine. Yes, I think he’s very good-looking. There. Satisfied?”

Charlie smiled. She liked Bridget and she loved her brother. The two of them would easily make a terrific couple. Maybe then Rob wouldn’t look so sad all the time.

Mona picked up another curtain rod. “Are you interested in him?”

“Am I interested? Yes. Will I act on it? No.”

“What?” Charlie said. “Why not? What’s wrong with my brother?”

“So what I saw on the driveway—”

“Wasn’t started by me. I know better than to get involved.” Bridget stood on the stool and snapped the curtain rod in place.

“What did you see? What did you see?” Charlie asked Mona, as if the woman could hear her. She’d been over at Mr. Murdock’s watching the Reds game when Robbie and Bridget returned from dinner and hadn’t thought her brother would make any kind of move. Not yet, anyway. “Dammit. I miss all the good stuff.”

“But, honey, if you like him…”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Like hell it didn’t matter. Charlie floated back and forth. Bridget didn’t know a good thing when she saw it. There was no one better than Robbie.

“Sweetie. Are you going to push away every young man that shows interest?”

“You tell her, Mom.” Someone needed to talk some sense into Bridget.

“Weren’t you just telling me not to get involved with my landlord?”

Bridget stepped down and Mona stood, placing a hand on Bridget’s shoulder. “That was your mother talking. Your friend is trying to understand you.”

Bridget fluffed out the hung curtain. “Can we talk about something else?”

Mona scooped the trash into a bag. “Okay. I’ll butt out for now. It’s getting late anyway. I should probably go home.”

Charlie had meandered to the hallway when both women walked through her.

Mona rubbed her arms. “Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“That blast of cold air? Do you have the AC on?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Bridget went to the thermostat in the hallway. “It’s all turned off.”

“Maybe you have a leak somewhere. You might want to have Rob check it out.”

“Did you really feel the cold air, or are you giving me an excuse to get him back here?”

“Why would you need an excuse? Isn’t he coming back to fix up the place anyway?”

“Good point. I’ll have him check into it.”

Charlie floated into the living room. How was it Mona felt her, but not Bridget? Bridget had also walked through her. What was up with that?

Mona grabbed her purse and kissed Bridget good night. As soon as her mother left the house, Bridget grabbed her temples and doubled over.

Charlie popped over to her. “Are you okay?”

Bridget jumped and bumped into the door. “Shit!” She looked up. “Oh great. You’re back.”

“I was never gone. You just can’t see me when someone else is around. What’s the matter with your head?”

“I think you are.” Bridget stumbled into the kitchen, opened a cupboard, and pulled out a small bottle. “I get these bursts of pain whenever you appear.” She took two pills and washed them down with water.

“My little calling card, huh?” When that didn’t elicit a laugh, Charlie forged ahead. “Do you believe I’m real?”

“I believe you’re the ghost of Charlene Gentry.”

“Hot damn!” Charlie rushed to Bridget and hugged her. Ahh, warmth. She could get used to this.

Bridget squirmed free and went into the living room. “I want you to leave me alone. The last thing I need is the depressed ghost of someone who committed suicide.”

Coldness enveloped her once again. “I am not depressed. And I did
not
kill myself. Carl did.”

“Yeah, really? Then why did you leave a note?”

“What are you talking about? I can’t leave any notes. I’m a ghost, remember?”

“I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about your
suicide
.”

“I didn’t commit suicide, and I didn’t leave a note. I swear to you, I didn’t.”

Bridget paced the living room with a limp and her arms akimbo. “Then explain how Rob received an e-mail from you saying you couldn’t live without Nick.”

“Robbie got an e-mail? From me? No wonder he thinks I offed myself. I swear, it wasn’t me. It had to be Carl.”

“And how would Carl do that?”

“From my laptop.” Crap. How many times had Nick told her to password protect that thing? “Maybe Robbie could get my computer dusted for prints? Wouldn’t that prove Carl used it?”

Bridget stopped her pacing. “Had Carl ever used your computer before?”

“Sure. All the time. Whenever I needed help, he’d be the one….” She stopped when Bridget had raised one eyebrow. “Okay, so I’m not thinking straight.”

“You’re right. You aren’t. Neither am I. I was crazy to think I could help.”

“What? No! You have to help. How else will my death be avenged? How else will I be able to leave?”

“What good will I be when they put me in the loony bin?” Bridget made a circling motion around her ear. “Because that’s what will happen if I tell people you were murdered because you told me.”

“So you don’t tell anyone how you know.”

“Then what proof do I have to even suspect a murder?” Bridget collapsed onto the couch. “Listen, I want to help you. I can’t imagine what your life is like. But I need something concrete. And preferably easy. Do you understand?”

Charlie understood all too well. There must be something. She gazed at the fireplace and then the damaged walls.

“I think Nick might have hidden something here,” she said. “Would that help?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Why else would Carl tear this place apart? Can’t you find Nick and ask him? If you can see me, you have to be able to see him, too.”

“Carl made this mess? Rob said they were tenants.”

“Technically, they were. But they worked for Carl.”

“You have proof? Did he come over?”

“No. They talked on the phone. I know it was Carl.”

Bridget nodded, but more like a sarcastic, yeah-sure kind of nod. “So why the hole in the bathroom? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh…well…that was me. Pretty impressive, huh? Scared the shit out of them!”

Bridget’s eyes rounded. “You did that? You can actually move things?”

“Yeah, but don’t ask me how, ’cause I still don’t know. I’ve tried to do it again, but only got small stuff to move. I guess I have to be superangry or something. It sure freaked me out, but at least I got rid of them.”

Bridget leaned over. “You have nothing.”

“Don’t give up. Please. You’re the first bit of hope I’ve had since I died. I’m certain once you bring Carl to justice I’ll be on my way. You just have to find Nick. He’s got to be the key to this whole thing.”

“Then why don’t you go looking for him? What’s stopping you?”

How could she tell Bridget she’d been no farther than Mr. Murdock’s without sounding pathetic? Even if she did venture farther out, it wouldn’t have mattered. “I don’t know where he died.”