The Devil's Beating His Wife (25 page)

I crossed my arms over my chest and snarled at him. "Not anymore. You ruined the mood."

"You sure about that?"

"Uh huh."

"Cuz I have an idea for a real fun game."

"I'm listening, but that's all that I'm doing."

"How about I come inside you?"

I slapped my hand against the table. "That's what I've been saying, you spiteful man!"

A pale, blond eyebrow lifted. "That's not what I'm talking about."

It took me a moment to catch on to his meaning. When it finally dawned on me what he meant, I staggered back in surprise. For too many years, he had walked around this house acting like his soul had been crushed. His chilling behavior was such a contrast from the lustful man he'd been so many years ago. I'd thought our lovemaking had done that, but now I wasn't so sure. I hated uncertainty. My existence was one big uncertainty.

"I should tear your head off and toss it across the floor like a bowling ball. Let's play that game. I'll go bowling with your head, Baxter Bennett." Knowing Baxter, he would have taken that particular opportunity to look up my skirt.

Baxter clucked his tongue. "Spicey, I don't remember you being this violent in life. What has death done to you?"

I couldn't help but smile.

"You're plotting, Spicey. I can see it in your dark, beady eyes. What are you thinking?" Baxter asked.

I shook my fist at him. "My eyes aren't beady."

He raised his hands in supplication. "Please don't hurt me."

"I'm thinking that if only we were still alive, I would have taken great pleasure in murdering you and burying your body in the compost heap." I glared at him, putting as much heat into my expression as possible.

Baxter grinned. His dark blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "How would you do it? Kill me, that is."

This was probably going to be the most morbid of conversations. But it was better than nothing. "Like I said, I would tear your head off."

"You can't really just tear someone's head off, you know. It would require something sharp, or perhaps an explosion."

"How exactly would that work?" I asked him.

His lips puckered as he contemplated the question. "You could rig some kind of device. I saw a lot of men torn apart by explosives. It's actually rather fascinating to see. I remember this one time watching a tank battle. I never knew it could be so bloody and gory. One minute a tank commander was yelling out instructions and maneuvers, the next minute his head was blown off his shoulders. You should have seen it."

"Okay, I've had enough of this conversation."

"Weakling."

I waved my hands in the air, dismissing his taunt. "No. I'm not. I promise. I've butchered plenty of chickens in my day. I just don't want to think about men being blown up like that. It seems like such a tragic way to go."

Baxter shrugged. A crooked smile curled the corner of his lips. "It would be quick and easy. I guarantee you that none of them had any idea of what was about to happen. Back during the war, that's all I could pray for. A quick and easy death. I had watched too many men die slowly and painfully. They all cried out for their mama or their sweetheart." He blinked slowly and then caught himself from going deeper into that thought. "What about you? If you could choose how you would die, what would you choose?"

"I am dead."

"No, I mean how would you die if you had a choice. Poison? Strangulation?"

I thought about it for a moment, allowing images of graceful and delicate deaths to play through my mind. Anything was better than being gut shot and bleeding out on a wooden floor with the man I thought I hated. "Old age."

Baxter rolled his eyes. "C'mon, now. You wanted to play a game. This is the game, so play fair."

"Oh, my. Would you look at that?" My eyes were focused on the scene outside of the window.

"No fair, Spicey."

"Really, Baxter. Would you look at that?" I said again, pointing towards a woman who stood outside of the house.

When Baxter spotted the blond woman hovering near the porch steps, he pushed away from the counter. He looked surprised as he began to back up towards the kitchen sink. "Who is that?"

"What makes you think I'd know?"

"Get rid of her."

Leaving the table, I walked through the kitchen and entered the living room. I tossed over my shoulder, "Why would I do that? I thought you liked company." I was standing in the middle of the room as the woman slowly turned the handle of the front door. She stepped into the small room and shivered delicately.

Was she really that cold? She was completely bundled up under a winter coat and scarf. Her nose and ears were red and chapped. Her eyes darted around the living room as if she was searching for someone.

"Are you here?" she asked timidly.

"She's probably looking for some kid," Baxter said, peeking around the door.

Throughout the years, worried parents would hike to this place. They'd bring flashlights and lanterns, hoping to not find their kid amongst the many here.

"Or another body to bury in the backyard," I whispered.

Baxter shot me a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. He pushed away from the doorframe and sauntered into the middle of the room. He wagged his finger as he passed by me. "Don't start that again." The blond woman stepped deeper into the room, walking right through Baxter's body. He raised his head towards the ceiling and placed his hands on hips. Sighing loudly, he said, "You would think that I'd be used to that by now."

I stepped around Baxter and followed the woman as she went from room to room. The place had seen better days. Granted, those better days had only been for a very short while. The wood was once again rotting. Holes were developing in the ceiling. That hideous mirror still hung from the wall. Oddly enough, no one even attempted to touch it.

As the woman advanced through the house, her disappointment became stronger. Her shoulders wilted. The corners of her mouth turned downward.

"This was a stupid idea," she whispered.

"I would agree with that," Baxter responded. The woman couldn't hear him. She couldn't see us trailing her every footstep.

"How could you be so stupid, Abigail? There's no such thing as ghosts." The woman ducked her head, but not before I could take a thorough look at her features.

The same blond hair as her mother. The same dark eyes as her father. Could it be my dear, sweet Abigail?

I raised my hand to touch her cheek. I felt nothing. However, she must have felt something because she retreated a few steps. She lifted her fingers to touch the spot on her cheek.

"Spicey?" she asked weakly.

I wanted to embrace her. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and ask her how she'd been. It had been over forty years since she and her mama had run from this house. She had been a young girl then. Now, she was a middle-aged woman. Someone who looked much older than I did.

Baxter stepped towards Abby and leaned into her face. His nose was so close that she could feel his presence. She smiled warmly, causing deeply-etched lines to form around her mouth and eyes. "I know that's you, Baxter." She laughed softly as she said his name. Tears gathered in her eyes. "May I see you? It doesn't matter which one of you. I would just like to see my friends again."

He shook his head at me, but I nudged his side. His mouth turned down in a frown, but I waved towards Abby's waiting form. We stared each other down for several moments. Poor Abby hopped from foot to foot, trying to keep warm. Baxter finally rolled his eyes and relented. I lifted my hands toward him, entreating him to respond.

He stared at me with indecision on his face. The last time we had shared the connection was the night we'd made love. It had appeased a craving inside of me, but it had inflamed something more in Baxter. It was like that night had crushed his spirit.

I understood his reluctance. The bond we created wasn't something to take lightly. It opened up each of us to the other, allowing our secret thoughts to become known.

A shuttered look crossed his face and then he flashed one of those charmingly false grins. "Looks like I'm coming in you, after all."

Baxter stepped towards me and opened his arms. He didn't move to embrace me. He closed his eyes and waited for me to move towards him. When I stood in between his open arms, he closed them quickly, locking me in place.

The blast of coldness tore through my body, creating an almost warm sensation. I had no clue how it happened, nor could I imagine what it must look like to a living person like Abby. But it must have been mighty strange indeed because she gasped loudly and often.

"Spicey." Our spirits had barely settled into my shell before Abby threw herself into our arms. I raised my hands and held on to her tightly. I even allowed myself to stroke her blond hair.

"My dear, sweet Abby." I pushed her away so I could stand and look at her. "You have grown into such a beautiful woman. You don't know how good it is to see you, child. I sure did miss you."

Teardrops fell from her eyes and streamed down her thin cheeks. "I've missed you, too." She lifted her hands and placed them over her mouth. She closed her eyes and then reopened them as if she wasn't sure if we'd still be standing there. When she saw that we were, she grinned and took my hand into hers. As she stood staring at us, she tried to control her emotions, but within moments, she was wailing and sobbing. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm so very sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Baxter croaked.

Abby's hands fell away as she stared into my face. "I'd forgotten how strange this all was. When I was a girl, I could recall every moment that I spent with the two of you, but by the time I was an adult, I began to tell myself that this was all a part of my imagination. That you weren't real. I've betrayed you. I'm so sorry."

I waved my hand, dismissing her words. "You're talking nonsense, girl. You ain't betrayed me." I felt a kick inside my body and groaned. "Or Baxter. You did exactly as I wanted you to do. You lived, and I hope it has been a good life."

"It was a very good life, actually. After that night...." Her voice trailed off for a moment. "When we left, my mother and I didn't look back. We got into the truck and we drove away. We didn't stop until we were hours out of town. Mama kept looking in the rearview mirror as if expecting Daddy to catch up with us. At least, that was what I thought she was looking at. It took many, many years for Mama to explain what she had actually seen in the mirror. When she described it, I couldn't believe it. I didn't think either of you would do such a thing."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Abby's eyebrows furrowed. For a brief moment, fear blossomed in the depths of her eyes. "Mama said that she saw a large black shadow standing over Daddy as we drove away." Her mouth closed and she glanced over us. She swallowed visibly and waited a few moments before she continued. "She said that shadow pulled Daddy into the air and broke his body like a twig." She used her hands to mimic the snapping of a twig. "Just like that and he was dead. Whenever I would ask Mama about returning to this place, she would beg me not to go. Daddy's family called us, looking for him. She told them he'd run off with some girl from Atlanta. That they had fled to Mexico or Puerto Rico because of some legal trouble. They believed her, but I think she thought if I returned, they would begin asking questions again. She also feared what you might do to me. Now that she's gone, I needed to know what happened here. I couldn't believe that my friends...." Her voice faded away.

"You're right. We would never. We didn't." I took her hand into mine. I patted the thin rough skin. "It'll probably surprise you to find that we, Baxter and me, ain't the only spirits haunting this place. There's another out back. More powerful. More something else. If you're looking for an explanation, he'd be the one to provide it. But I would agree with your mama, you don't want to go messing around there."

Abby searched my eyes, looking for the truth. Then she nodded. I wasn't sure if she actually believed me, but she seemed as if she needed another explanation to cling to. "I couldn't believe you would do such a thing."

"And we didn't," I repeated.

She smiled sadly. "We returned to Mama's family. She waited a spell then filed for divorce, citing abandonment. A year after it was granted, she met a former teacher of hers and they got married. A few years later, I had myself a little brother. Things were good for us. We were never afraid again," she said.

But why is she here now? What brought her back to this place of all places?

I could feel Baxter's confusion and curiosity. Why had she come back? "And you left all of that to return to this place, Abby?"

The lines around her eyes deepened as she grinned broadly. "No one's called me Abby in a long, long time."

"Do you prefer Abigail?"

She waved her hand in the air. "No. No. Either is fine." The grin faded from her face as she looked around the small room. "This place is a dump."

I could feel Baxter agreeing to that. I held his voice back as I muffled out my own words. "It's always been a dump."

Her eyes roamed over the walls and scanned the floorboards. She avoided our gaze as she whispered her next words. "I inherited this place after Mama's death. I thought about giving it to Daddy's family, but they hadn't even bothered to reach out to me in all this time. So, I'm selling it."

The room felt like it was spinning as Baxter and I dealt with dueling sentiments. He was angry and displeased. I was happy and excited. "When?" I asked.

She looked at me with an apologetic expression. "Actually, I should say that I already sold it." She hovered near us as she watched our face. She seemed apprehensive over how we would take the news. "I need the money and this house is just wasting away. I thought the person buying the land intended to fix this place up. It wasn't until all the papers were signed that I learned what they planned to do."

"And what do they plan to do with the place?" Baxter asked, pushing his voice through.

Abby once again avoided our eyes. She shifted her weight from one foot to another. Taking a long suffering breath, she finally said, "They're going to tear this place down. They're going to destroy your home."