The Devil's Beating His Wife (21 page)

Had I? Had my body been this bloated? Had my eyes bulged?

Baxter stopped our movements. He groaned inwardly and said, "Spicey, don't."

With a resigned sigh, I faded into the background, allowing Baxter to lead. When it came to this connection thing, he dominated. He had complete control of our movements. Not to mention that he could feel my thoughts and emotions.

Baxter stood up and walked through the barn, searching for something. Grabbing a shovel, he walked us outside and went to the edge of the woods, where he began to dig.

I knew his arms were burning, but it didn't bother me. I knew his breathing was labored, but it didn't affect me. I was aware of everything that Baxter felt and experienced, but it was like I was standing inside of him, just observing it all.

Baxter returned to the barn. Rolling the covering tighter around Ronnie's body, he then hauled him up and returned to the hole he'd just dug. With no hint of gentleness, Baxter dropped the body into the grave. He grabbed the shovel from the ground and began to push dirt over the body. Soil smacked across the tarp as Ronnie disappeared into the earth.

When the task was done, Baxter returned the shovel to the barn. He left the barn and walked to a small water pump beside the house. He pumped water into his hand, and then he cleaned the sweat and dirt from his face. On impulse, he lowered his head and pumped water through his hair.

Washing must have felt good to him because he laughed. "I can't believe how much I miss this."

At that moment, I knew I was beyond tired of waiting and watching. I withdrew from his body, resulting in both of us standing in the living room, in the exact spots where we had died.

Baxter stared at me, a look of shock on his face. "Why did you do that?"

The thoughts that I had kept from forming in my mind while we were connected now swirled free. I didn't give voice to them. They belonged to me.

"Spicey?" he asked.

I left the living room, returning to the small bedroom where I had kept to myself for so many years. The room had also been Abby's bedroom. I crouched down in the shadows and wrapped my arms around my legs. Sorrow and disappointment welled inside of me. I felt beyond foolish.

Baxter entered the room. I dropped my head between my knees, trying to block out his presence. Once again, he set the tone, ignoring my desire to be alone. He sat down beside me and rested his arms against his knees. He said nothing as he invaded my space.

I don't know how long we sat there. Maybe a few minutes. Probably a few days, as the shadows rotated around the room like a clock-hand. Time didn't really mean much when you were dead.

"So, we're back to this?" Baxter finally asked.

Yes, we were back to this. I had thought, briefly, that we had gotten beyond it. I had thought we were finally equals. Partners in death, if not in life.

But Baxter always had the upper hand. He was born with it. He even died with it.

"I don't know what I've done this time," he said. "Can you tell me?"

I couldn't even fully grasp what bothered me so. Yes, the reality that he had been in control in life and was in death bothered me, but there was something deeper. If I was truly honest with myself, my anger wasn't directed at him. He was just being who he was. I was angry with myself. I had lowered my guard, allowing him to get under my defenses. Not only was I mingling with the man who killed me, but I had shared my soul with him.

I felt vulnerable and I didn't like that. I didn't like knowing that in order to be whole again, I needed him.

Damn him for being stubborn. He shifted in his position, stretching out his long legs. He would have remained in that position until I moved. He would have followed me around until I acknowledged his presence. He was always going to be there, it seemed.

"You broke your promise," I whispered.

Baxter's head whipped towards me. A flash of anger darkened his face before it cleared into a blank expression. His fingers fisted in his lap. "That was an exceptional event."

"Don't be an ass, Baxter," I said. "I know it's probably hard for you to tamper down your true nature, but try to be a bit more understanding. You broke your promise. Plain and simple. I don't know why I'm even surprised. You've failed me in so many ways that I can't even begin to count them. I shouldn't have expected more from you, but I did. I won't make that mistake again. This I promise you, and I don't break my promises."

He pulled his long legs beneath him and then whirled around to face me. The look he gave me was mean and twisted. He had never given me that look before. It frightened me.

That got my gander up. I stared back at him with the same angry expression. I pushed myself up to stand, so I could glare down at him. He stood up and towered over me, trying to intimidate me with his size.

Without warning, he brushed past me and raged his way out of the bedroom. Standing alone, I felt a minor victory. Then just as suddenly, he reappeared.

"Maybe I did break my promise, but I had no fucking idea that we would stumble across a dead body." Baxter stepped closer, forcing me to step back. His head was lowered. His chin nearly brushed my forehead as he advanced on me.

I shirked away, not liking his dominance.

"What was I supposed to do?" he continued. "Let you figure out what to do with him? Perhaps I should have walked you through the steps of burying a dead man. You know, that's what we'll do next time. I'll just go ahead and let you drag him all the way across the yard."

"That's not what this is about," I snapped. "And you damn well know it. It's always been about you forcing me to do whatever you wanted."

Baxter stiffened. The corner of his lip curled up. "If that was true, you and me would have had a different endin', darlin'. Believe you that."

"You're a failure, Baxter. You failed your mother and father. You failed your brother." I pushed against his chest, putting distance between our bodies. He stepped backwards and continued to stare down at me. "And, you have failed me. I just wish you would leave me alone. I can't take much more of your failures."

"Is that what you want?" he asked. "For me to leave you alone?"

I raised my chin and smiled. "Yes."

And with that, he disappeared.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

January 10, 1971, Laurens County

"Did you miss me?" were Baxter's first words when he returned.

I stood in the dining room, staring out a window. The trees were blowing. Dried leaves bustled across the dead grass.

For the last two months, he had managed to go someplace I could not go. I had tried to disappear too. I had imagined my body breaking apart into dust. I had tried to leave the house, but I only returned to the living room. I was far too despondent to be angry with him.

And when I grew despondent, I began thinking about my mama and how much I missed her. As a girl, whenever I had been sad, she would wrap her arms around me and pull me into her embrace. I would allow myself to sink into her warmth and softness until I forgot the reason for my sadness. Now I was even more sad just thinking about it.

"Welcome back," was all I could manage to say.

His head cocked to the side as he examined me. "You don't have to say it. I already know."

"Know what?"

"That you missed me, of course." The bastard grinned. When he noticed my lack of emotional response, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "This isn't the welcome I envisioned. I had expected something along the lines of—" He placed a limp hand against his chest and said in a higher pitched, feminine voice, "Oh, Baxter, how I have missed you. Your absence has made me realize the error of my ways. I love you. I adore you." He batted his long, blond lashes before dropping his hand. "Failing that, I'm willing to accept an apology."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you."

Baxter squinted. "I guess that'll do." Then he approached me and placed his fingers along my chin. Sadness weighed on his handsome features. "You and me. That's all it will ever be."

"Where did you go? Heaven?"

His eyes widened. He turned his head away, but not before I caught the hint of a grin. His shoulders shook as he suppressed a laugh. "I don't think you can just go back and forth between here and Heaven."

"Answer me, Baxter. Where did you go? You were standing in front of me then the next thing, you were gone." I slapped at his shoulder. He continued to laugh at me. "Damn you, Baxter."

"Don't waste the words, Spicey. We're already damned," he said, looking over his shoulder. "You told me to go, so I left. I just get the impression that there is no pleasing you. You want me gone and when I'm gone, you're angry that I've gone somewhere you ain't." He laughed again. "My dear, you never thought to look in the cellar?"

"What cellar?"

"The one below us. Dear Jesus. You really didn't know about it?" He was grinning broadly. When I advanced towards him, he threw his hands into the air and slid away. "I gave you the distance you wanted."

"Then why are you back?"

The grin fell from his face. "I missed you, of course."

I paced the room, trying to reconcile this bit of news. There was a cellar? I went into the kitchen to look for a staircase. I went from room to room, hoping to find a doorway.

Baxter followed behind me, dogging my steps. He chuckled as I grew more frustrated. Finally, he grabbed my hands and stilled my movements. "Spicey? We're ghosts."

I shrieked in anger. "I know that!"

He took a deep breath and leaned towards my ear as if sharing a secret. "Then why do you continue to act like you're alive?"

I pulled away from him and stared into his face. Not understanding his meaning, I walked through the living room and out onto the porch. I stormed down the steps, only to find myself once again in the living room. Screaming with rage, I ran through the kitchen and slammed open the back door. Pushing ahead, I jumped, bypassing the steps. When my feet landed, I was once again in the living room.

Before I could attempt another escape, Baxter wrapped his arm around my waist and snapped, "Spicey." The command in his voice caught my attention, knocking me out of my panic. "Look at me," he ordered.

Staring at his face, I allowed myself to once again follow his lead. I felt the sensation of the floor beneath us fading away and then we were there, in a dark cellar beneath the house.

"How?" I asked him.

He smiled sadly. "You still think we're walking on the floor. That our feet are touching ground. There's nothing, Spicey. We're ghosts."

"I have touched things. I've broken glass and moved plates."

"That's because you wanted to. And if you wanted to move between floors, without stairs, you could do that, too," he said patiently.

"I want to leave. Why can't we leave this house?"

Baxter stepped towards me. His eyes were dark. "But we can. Together."

So that's what he was up to. "I'm not doing that again." I didn't need him. I didn't want to be part of him again. I moved into the center of the room. At first I tried jumping, but that didn't work. I remained in the cellar. Baxter snickered and I shot him a glare. I lifted my arms towards the ceiling but nothing happened.

Baxter faded away, leaving me alone in the cellar. I felt trapped. "Baxter!"

"What?" he asked from behind me.

I spun around and walked to stand before him. "Don't leave me again."

All of his wicked humor was gone. He lifted a hand and touched my temple. "Just think it, Spicey."

I grabbed his hand and held onto it. As I stared into his eyes, I conjured up the living room. The place where I had died. I closed my eyes to concentrate. In my mind, I could see the studio couch, coffee table, and lamps.

"See? Was that so hard?" he asked in a whisper.

He stepped away from me as I opened my eyes. We were in the living room. "Did you do that?"

"No. You did."

Freedom. I was suddenly free. Not from this house, but free from the existence I had known when I was alive. I was a ghost who acted like I lived. "You've known about this?"

"Of course," he answered. "Since the beginning. While you were hiding in that back room, I decided to figure out this whole haunting thing. I certainly had the time for it. Not much else to do, especially when you decided to ignore me. We should talk about that."

"About the haunting?" I asked him as I faded away. From the kitchen, I heard him curse. "Ain't no need for that kind of language," I called out. When he appeared in the kitchen, I left and entered my little room.

He followed and I returned to the living room. "Okay, Spicey. Stop it, now. We need to talk."

Baxter came stomping into the living room, making distinct sounds. My gaze landed on his feet, worked its way up his long legs, and glided over his torso before settling on his handsome face. He blushed under my examination.

"What is it that we need to talk about?" I asked.

Quick-witted Baxter was speechless. Tongue-tied and dumb.

"What is it, Baxter?

He shook his head, declining to speak. Feeling a bit bold and in charge, I walked towards him and placed my hands at his waist. I leaned into him. My lips were near his chin. I was close enough to have seen a pulse if he'd had one. On impulse, I let my hands slide further down his body.

I leapt back in surprise. "Baxter!" As I stood laughing at his erection, he curled his hands into fists and faded away. "Oh, don't be like that, Baxter. I just didn't think you could still do that."

"What does that mean?" I heard his question distinctly, but he wasn't in the room. At least not that I could see. "I'm right here," he said, when I started to walk out of the room. His voice came from the corner of the room, near the armchair. Then his shape took form in the chair.

"Did I embarrass you?" I asked him, feeling a bit ashamed of myself.

He turned his face away, staring into the shadows. "Of course not."