A Ghost of a Chance (29 page)

When Keenan looked down into the face of a sputtering Sergeant Thompson, joy got the better of him. Without hesitation, he grabbed Thompson’s stern face in his hands and kissed him soundly. He had never been happier to be alive.

Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aftermath

Thompson gave Keenan a good shove and he landed on his back, staring up at a glorious blue sky and billowing clouds. He was so weak he could barely turn onto his side, but strength was creeping into his legs and arms, and the pain was receding. When he searched the yard, the ghosts and the angels were dancing in pairs or groups, kicking up their ethereal heels, and laughing so hard ectoplasm came out of their collective noses. Amos and Gazardiel locked elbows and did a jig. The air filled with jubilation.

Getting to his feet, Thompson crossed to the prostrate Keenan and helped him to sit. “You okay?” he asked gruffly.

“Yeah.” Keenan rubbed his forehead. “Got a splitting headache and I’m as weak as last night’s sitcom, but I’ll live. You?”

“Fine,” he said. He motioned to the group of dancing specters. “Where the hell did these guys come from?”

“You can see them?” Keenan was flabbergasted. No other human being he had ever known could see the ghosts.

“Of course I can see them! I’m not blind.”

He left Keenan abruptly and crossed to a heap of figure on the ground. A shot of fear sent pinpricks up Keenan’s arms. Reggie?

But when Thompson bent down to help the figure up, Keenan fought to get to his feet to cross to them. As graceful as a newborn giraffe, Keenan took Isabella into his arms and swore he would never let her go again.

Kissing her softly, he touched her face not believing she was real… and human again.

From behind them Keenan heard the squeak of a rusty screen door and turned around. There on the porch was a young woman no more than five feet tall and as pixie like as Keenan had ever seen. Maybe twenty or twenty-five, everything about her said gothic, from the black nail polish on her delicate little hands, to the tattered black skirt hugging a very trim waist. Two large brown eyes rested at the center of a pale face framed by spiky jet-black hair. On her right cheek a tattoo of two delicate angel wings laced down along her jaw. Her black lips accentuated an adorable porcelain face. She frowned at them and looked around her yard.

“What the hell are all you people doing on my lawn?”

You could have heard a feather fall. Even the angels seemed surprised.

“Hi.” The voice came from behind Keenan. When he looked back, his mouth fell open.

Thompson’s eyes had gone dewy. It was scary as all hell. The insipid grin on his face looked like a pod person had taken over.

“Hi,” the girl said back. Her face softened and Keenan had no trouble figuring out why.

“Uh,” said Thompson, looking down at his hands. “Name’s Thomp… Cecil.”

Cecil?

“Hi,” she repeated then looked down. A blush brightened her cheeks. “I’m Dyna… Dyna Campbell.”

“Hi.” The response from Thompson was so uncharacteristic, Keenan wanted to slap him. But having been in love himself, he let it go.

Keenan kissed Isabella soundly, letting the waves of relief and joy wash through him without caring about anything else.

When he broke the kiss, he saw Thompson on the porch talking to the girl and winked down at Isabella. “So, she can see the ghosts.”

“Yes,” she replied softly.

“And so can he.”

“The ring affected everyone it touched. The girl, Thompson…” She stopped and touched his cheek. “And you, Keenan.”

“How did it affect me?”

“It freed ya, Kee,” Constance said from behind him. When Keenan turned around, she was back to her old self again. Amos stood next to her holding her hand.

“You and Isabella can move on with your lives now, without interference.”

“Wait.” Something caught in Keenan’s throat when he saw the brilliant smile Isabella was giving him. “You mean Isabella’s…”

“Yes, Kee,” said Constance. “She’s human. As human as you are. It was the least we could do for all we’ve put her through. It’s the only way she can get back into heaven; like any other human soul, she’ll have to earn it.”

Amos touched Isabella’s cheek. “If that is what you wish.”

In response, tears filled Isabella’s eyes and she kissed the angel’s hand. “Thank you,” she whispered. She fell into Keenan’s arms.

“As for you,” Constance said to Keenan and her eyes misted. “It has been an honor knowing you.”

“Come on, Cee. You’re not going anywhere.”

Constance glanced at Amos and back to Keenan. “I’m sorry, Kee. In a few hours you won’t be able to see us.”

Keenan let Isabella go. “What?”

“You don’t need us anymore, Kee. You are stronger than you know and in the days to come, you’ll discover that. We might return from time to time, when you need us most, but for the moment we have to move on.”

Grief pulled at his cheeks. He surveyed the milling crowd of ghosts, the ancient whisper of smiles fading as he watched. “No.”

“I’m so sorry, Kee. It is out of our hands. Dyna and Thompson need us now. The child she carries is important to the future… your son, Kee. He will need our guidance, our love, and our strength to see him through what he must face.”

“If he’s my child then I should take responsibility for…”

“No, Kee. You have your own road to follow, you and Isabella. Perhaps one day your paths will cross. Who knows? But for now, the child needs Thompson’s strength and skill, and his mother’s magic to guide him. You can do nothing to help him.”

Keenan didn’t like the fact that he could do nothing for his own son, but then realized the kid was probably as much everyone else’s as his. He searched Isabella’s face and touched her brow.

“Tell me what to do.”

She took his hand, kissed it, and rubbed it against her cheek. “The choice is yours. All I know is the child could not be in better hands.”

He kissed her again and turned to Constance. “Can I at least be part of his life?”

Constance pulled a long sigh into her lungs and looked at the ground. “I’m so sorry. You must not have any contact while the child grows. This is the real sacrifice we need from you. And who knows?” She ran her hand around his face and smiled. “Perhaps one day you will meet again. I see interesting times ahead.” She glanced at the couple on the porch. “For all of you.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eight Months Later…

“Hand me the cleaver, will you?”

Keenan grabbed the large knife from the cutting board, turned it and put the handle into his wife’s dainty hand.

“Thank you.”

From this angle, the protruding belly made her legs and arms look small. He grinned to himself. Even with seven months of baby in there, Isabella was still as breathtaking as she had ever been. Maybe even more so.

He turned back to the turnips and continued cutting. “So, explain it to me again, will you?”

“I told you, I’m not sure how I got pregnant, or why I didn’t get pregnant before. Maybe they changed something in me this time. Who knows? I’m not going to jinx it by wondering. Honestly, you worry too much.”

“I’m just curious, that’s all. You don’t think the baby will turn out to be…” When Isabella leveled stern eyes at him, he stopped. Keenan shrugged. “What? It could happen.”

“This baby,” she said evenly, “will be as human as you are. I told you before, the ultrasound showed a perfectly healthy,
normal
baby girl.” She folded her arms. “Nothing more.”

Keenan put his hands up defensively. “All right, all right. Just want to make sure there isn’t some kind of angel in our future. I’ve had my fill.” A pang of loss fell into the turnips when he went back to them.

Isabella’s face softened and she put down her knife. Taking his chin in her fingers, she reached up to kiss him lightly. “You miss them, don’t you?”

Keenan turned his head back to the vegetables and let a sigh out for some air. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“They’ll be back, Keenan. You’ll see them again, I promise. In the meantime, you’ll have to settle for me.”

That did it. He put down his knife, swept her up into this arms, avoiding the big bumpy part in the middle, and smothered her with kisses. In the middle of a nice juicy one, a foot (or maybe it was an elbow) caught him right in the solar plexus. He let out a puff of air into Isabella’s mouth and she pushed away from him. Her belly twitched when she touched it.

“Oh,” she huffed when another kick distended the skin at her middle. “That was a good one. Man, she’s strong.”

“Yeah.” Keenan held his stomach trying to get air back into his body.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Isabella’s eyes get big at something behind him. When he turned around he instinctively put a hand in front of her.

Suspended in the air were the two knives they had been using, twirling on their tips. Keenan pushed Isabella back against the refrigerator and watched as the knives did a little dance over the cobalt blue tiled counter. Then, in a quick swoop, they charged at the cutting board and chopped through the vegetables in record time, then laid themselves in the sink for washing.

Keenan waited a good count of sixty before moving to investigate. Isabella held his arm and tucked herself behind him (pushing just a bit, he thought). Keenan approached the vegetables now diced on the counter in neat little piles of green and white. Fear was making Keenan’s eyes and nose hurt.

“Tell me you did this,” he whispered to his wife. He could feel her shaking her head against his arm.

“Not me.”

“Hello?” he called to the air in general. It didn’t answer back. “Is someone here? Constance? Amos? Anyone?” The only reply was the rain against the kitchen window.

Keenan swallowed hard when a new idea crept up his neck.

“You don’t think…”

“No.” The word came out long and uncertain from Isabella’s mouth. “It couldn’t be.”

“Are you sure? She could have inherited your abilities…”

“It can’t be, Kee. She’s mortal, human…”

“Hear me out. I had psychic abilities… you had angelic ones. What if some of that transferred to her. What if she inherited them from us?”

“That’s just too scary to think about. Can you imagine the trouble we’d have?”

Keenan turned around and touched Isabella’s belly with his palms. “I want to try something.”

Isabella took a step back and put a protective hand against the bulge. “I don’t think we better…”

“Trust me,” he said, covering her hand with his. “I just have to know.”

She twisted her lips to the side and looked down at his hand. “All right, but be careful.”

“I won’t hurt her, I promise.”

Keenan got down on his knees so his face was level with the baby and pulled up Isabella’s shirt. The glistening stretched skin looked almost golden in the gray afternoon light spilling in from the garden.

He pressed his ear against it and spoke very softly. “Hey, sweetie. It’s Daddy. Can you hear me?”

A small tremor brushed his ear and Keenan smiled. A rush of satisfaction relaxed his earlier doubt. He was talking to his little girl.

“Hey, baby. Mama and I want to know if you can hear us, if you can understand us.”

“You look ridiculous,” Isabella said laughing. “What if a neighbor came in right now?”

He glanced up at her. “Hey, I’m experimenting here. Lock the door if you’re worried.” He kissed her belly and readjusted his ear to a different spot. “It’s Daddy, baby. Can you hear me?”

A gurgle echoed against his eardrum and he got very excited. “I hear her!”

“I think you’re hearing lunch, sweetie.”

He ignored the jibe and tapped the skin. “Can you touch Daddy, sweetie? Just a tap?”

Nothing happened for several heartbeats and Keenan gave up. It was probably just one of the ghosts coming in for a quick visit. In a way, he was kind of glad. Maybe Constance was right. Maybe he would see them again.

He moved quickly to stand and all at once, he found himself flying through the air. The counter caught him square in the back and the entire house shook. Air came out of his lungs in one great whoop. The cabinets behind him teetered for a moment and he could hear the wood crack. A knife fell from the counter behind his head, point down. It wedged itself a good half inch into the floor right between his legs, two inches from his jewels.

Gasping to get air back into his lungs he saw Isabella with her mouth open, looking down at her pregnant belly, caressing it softly with her hands.

“It’s okay, baby.” She lifted her chin to him. “Daddy didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Struggling to his feet, Keenan moved, very slowly, toward his wife.

“She’s… uh, got quite a kick.”