A Ghost of a Chance (5 page)

Hallie walked over and picked him up, “I think he’s beautiful.”

And she smiled with adoration as he began biting her index finger in earnest. “And I hear you can find some very interesting things at the Salvation Army.”

“
You are hopeless.”

“
And you’re a snob. But I won’t hold it against you. Not yet anyway.”

“
So what are you calling it?”

Hallie frowned as she tried to wrench her finger free. “I haven’t decided.”

Monica leaned back with distaste and crossed her legs, which were well exposed by a slit in her snugly fitted skirt. Hallie had decided long ago that she must have a closet full of these.

“
So why don’t you call him Sebastian?”

“
I thought of that, but it doesn’t seem to fit. He’s not a snooty sort of dog. I want a more, well, normal type name.”

“
What, like Spot?”

“
No.” Hallie continued to pet his head. She’d really become attached to him in the week they’d been together. And his initial shock of being here had dissipated quickly as her chewed on furniture could testify to. “Actually, I like the name Jack.”

From across the room, Jack’s eyebrow peaked at the mention of his name. Great Aunt Marie smiled at him with a knowing expression on her cherubic face. “And you didn’t think you were making any progress.”

“
Jack?” Monica quibbled, “That’s well, so boring.”

“
She’s got to go,” he whispered adamantly to Aunt Marie.

“
I don’t think it’s boring,” Hallie declared with enthusiasm.

“
I think it suits him. Besides you don’t like it, so I must be on to something.”

Monica sighed with feigned exasperation, “Oh fine, you’re going to do what you want to anyway. But I did come here to talk to you about something. I went ahead and made some arrangements. And before you protest you should know it’s for your own good.”

Hallie frowned, “When anyone ever says for my own good, I can’t help but anticipate catastrophe.”

She leaned in closer to her friend, her cool brown eyes sparkling for the first time since Jack had seen her. “Oh, don’t be negative. I’ve arranged a date for you.”

There was a vacuous moment of stunned silence. “You’re not serious.”

“
Well, it would be kind of a double date. It’s a guy who works at my office. I told him all about you, about you being an author, and he is very enthusiastic.”

“
He knows my work?”

“
Well, he knows that you’re an author. Come on, just dinner tomorrow night in Richmond. You can spend the night at my place. “

“
Look Monica, I guess you mean well, I guess you do,” she repeated without conviction. “But I just . . .”

“
Please Hallie, as a personal favor to me. I’ve already told him you’d be there, and I’ll look bad if you don’t show.”

“
You know you are ruthless. I’m really afraid this is a mistake.”

“
Come on Hal, say yes.”

“
Well, what about Jack?”

“
Leave his food out. Jack can rough it for one night.”

Hallie sighed, reluctant to resist further. “All right. But I’ve got to tell you, I don’t hold out much hope for this going well.”

“
Don’t be so pessimistic. You must be open to new experience.”

Jack felt disgruntled. He didn’t trust this, didn’t trust Monica as far as he could throw her, and in his present state that wasn’t far at all. “Well, she’s wrong about one thing.”

“
What’s that?” Aunt Marie asked with evident interest.

“
Jack is definitely going along. At least this Jack is.”

CHAPTER THREE

His namesake had been following him around all day, ever since Monica had left. It had been almost from the day Hallie first brought the puppy home that Jack realized the dog could see him. The little black mutt had been tentative at first; it had been tentative about everything at first. But Jack had seen its eyes fix directly on him from across the room. He had even barked at him – initially, perhaps not knowing what Jack’s presence in Hallie’s house meant, but, then again, he certainly wasn’t alone in that regard. Maybe Jack Jr., as he was apt to call him, instinctually felt the difference between him and his owner. Or maybe he was just another person to the dog.

To just be another person and not exist in this between state was a refreshing idea. The frustration inside him was overwhelming at times. It was extremely irritating to him that he felt so ineffectual in Hallie’s world. But even beyond that there was a growing awareness that there was something else, some other kind of living beyond Hallie’s farmhouse that he needed to get on with. There was an insidious tug-of-war starting to play out inside of him – an emerging struggle between the desire to leave and the desire to somehow finish whatever he was meant to do here. He wondered ultimately what would win out.

It was clear, however, that Hallie did notice the dog’s odd behavior. He could see it. From time to time she would stop what she was doing and follow the direction of Jack Jr.’s gaze right to him. Then she would frown, evidently seeing nothing where he stood. It would make him frown too. He didn’t like being this sort of non-person where she was concerned. In a way, he was growing quite possessive of her, sort of in a big brother type of way and sort of not. It was an interesting cocktail of emotions that he didn’t want to look at too closely. If he ever sorted them all out, what good would it do?

He couldn’t do anything about it, could he? Paramount, beyond all this mish-mash of introspection on his part, he knew one thing – clear as crystal. He didn’t want Hallie going out on a date with some clown that Monica Quimby had picked out.

“
What do you think of this one Jack?” Hallie called from the bedroom. Jack would indulgently pretend at times that she was talking to him, and even verbalize an answer like, “I don’t know honey, why don’t you come out and show me.” But as she flew out of the bedroom in a different garment, he knew it was the dog that she wanted a response from.

Jack Jr. sat curled up at his feet as they both waited for Hallie to model her potential outfits for the big night. He, out of respect, had stayed out of the bedroom while she was changing and the dog, out of lack of interest, had done so too.

She came sauntering in the room wearing a flowing red sundress that Jack had to admit was truly fetching and thus potentially dangerous. She swirled around, “What do you think Jack? I bought this one right after the divorce with Edward. I was hoping to wear it to his funeral,” she smiled, sheepishly giggling. “Just kidding.” But Jack suspected she wasn’t, not completely.

“
So, anyway, what do you think?”

The dog lifted his head up and looked up at Jack, as had been his practice with every other potential outfit. Jack put out his thumb and with the dramatic flair of a Roman emperor turned it down. The dog turned its head back to Hallie and gave his most disgusted growl. They truly made a good team.

“
Are you serious? You don’t like this one either. . . I really don’t have that much left to choose from.” She looked genuinely distraught as she headed for the bedroom, but Jack had to wonder about a woman who let a dog pick out her clothes.

If he had his way, she would be going to Richmond wearing something akin to nun’s garb. No need to impress those who weren’t likely to appreciate her. “All right Jack, I just don’t have anything else so one of these will have to do. If you’re going to help me, come on.”

He bent down and whispered into Jack Jr.’s furry ear. “Just make sure she doesn’t wear the red dress.” The little black dog looked into his eyes as if to say his mission was understood, then disappeared into the bedroom.

Jack leaned back in the chair remembering Hallie in the red dress, her cheeks blooming with color and then the Hallie of the dream draped in the golden gown. It was more than the fact that he was stuck in this house with no one to look at but her. Things had gone way beyond that here. He was looking at her, too close. Getting to know her unguarded moments that others would never see – and being fascinated by them. She was like a puzzle to him or one of those cube games that he couldn’t quite get the solution right – frustrating yes, but intensely fascinating.

Foolish man, foolish dead man to let his thoughts wander in pointless directions. He pulled his attention to the matter at hand – the disagreeable thought of her dating someone? Well suffice to say that no one that Monica Quimby could produce had a right to her. That was the excuse he used, and it was sound enough to almost convince himself.

The margarita had a strong sour taste, and abundant salt around the edges of the rather substantial green-tinted glass. At least that was good; she hated the kind that was too sweet.

She remembered Edward not being able to handle a margarita that was too sour. It was a strange contradiction in his personality; his demeanor and cutting sarcasm were so bitingly acidic, and yet he liked his margaritas sweet. In fact, oftentimes he would end up getting some fruity variety like strawberry or peach. Hallie had always found that very comical about him and very telling.

“
Hey Hallie, what do you think of the place?”

“
What?” Her mind was drawn back to the oddly animated face of Monica Quimby. It had become evident to her that Monica had been on a mission all night. She was bound and determined that the group of four seated in the midst of a Friday night crowd at La Casa Grande should have fun, even if she had to manually force the joy down all of their respective throats.

“
The restaurant, the margarita Greg here. You’re not giving any of them much attention.”

Hallie smiled back at the joyful Monica whose slitted brown eyes were darting little sparks of rage in her direction.

“
Oh, I’m sorry. My mind wandered. The place is well, very atmospheric.”

The younger man seated next to her cleared his throat, “Well that should appeal to your writer’s imagination, right Hallie?” She turned to him and smiled blankly. His teeth were perfect sheets of white peering from behind thin lips. He seemed nice enough, nice looking, curly brown hair but obviously a good five to ten years her junior. What the hell was Monica thinking? “Um, what sorts of books do you write Hallie? Monica said something about political thrillers.”

She deliberately took a big slurp of her sour margarita, “No, not exactly.”

Monica beamed with calculation, “Well, they do have a lot of mystery in them, right Hal.”

“
They’re vampire books.”

The two, yuppie gentlemen turned with surprise at the announcement. Richard Belkin, Monica’s date for the evening, reflected the most genuine expression of vacuous astonishment that Hallie could ever remember witnessing. “Really? Well that’s not what you said. . .”

Monica compulsively jumped in, “Well, they do have a political spin, you know – metaphorically socially relevant and all of that.”

Richard, a contained business type, seemingly well groomed but with closely cropped red hair of an amazingly bright shade, was not to be sidelined by her friend’s subterfuge.

To Hallie, he inquired pointedly, “Is this true Hallie? Do you write with a politically, metaphorical intent?”

She looked at him and smiled with a humor that seemed to draw its strength from her margarita glass. She was also wondering what the hell he’d actually just said, “No Richard, I don’t.”

There was a delightful splash of stunned silence and then the youngish Greg, who seemed intent on protecting her for some obscure reason that she didn’t want to fathom interjected, “Well Hallie, then what do your books mean?”

She picked up an oversized chip and dipped it in the salsa sauce that seemed determined to scorch her lips. Although at the moment, she was curiously numb to it. “They don’t mean anything. They’re about a vampire that kills people.”

He was smiling, but she couldn’t see his overly bright teeth anymore. “Really?”

She was truly beginning to feel bubbly now, “You know, I do like this restaurant Monica. What a great choice. I hope dinner comes soon. I’m starving.”

Monica’s glinting eyes seemed frozen in her face now, “Well Richard tell us about that new project you’ve been working on.”

His mouth pinched a little as he took a not too effective stab at sarcasm. “Oh, I doubt that would sound too interesting after hearing about Hallie’s vampire books,” he sniped.

Hallie noted the pained expression on Monica’s face. This Richard was beginning to remind her of Edward a bit. Of course, she’d always thought that Monica and Edward would have been a better match. Honestly though, she’d never met anyone who she thought would be a good match for her. Sighing, she ate another big chip.