Scaredy Cat (18 page)

Chapter 29

“I can’t believe we missed all that,” Tonya whined. Her eyes looked like two slits, her hair stood on end on one side of her head, and there was a drool stain on her cheek. “I could cry.”

“Carl’s gonna make us a DVD and CD of everything that happened.” Quinn glanced at the sleepy pair in her backseat.

Tonya shook her head sadly. “It won’t be the same, not like if we’d been there. Turkey, I shouldn’t have eaten the turkey. It always makes me sleepy.”

Quinn winked at Blake. “You can fight one of those next, they’re really big birds.”

“A ghostly woman touched my husband’s face.” Tonya nudged Jacob. “Isn’t that cool?”

“Not even if she’d grabbed my crotch.” Jacob folded his arms. “It’s gonna be a long time until I get that chill out of my bones.”

Tonya reached through the two front seats and patted Blake on the arm. “I bet you’re riding a rush.”

“I am,” Blake said with a smile as she leaned her head against the seat and stared at Quinn as she drove.

“Did the experience give you any ideas for a new book?” Tonya asked excitedly.

“It did, and I’m very sorry to tell you that I didn’t remember to use your recorder.” She handed it back to Tonya. “That was so thoughtful of you. I hope you aren’t too disappointed.”

“No, just as long as it got onto tape, and it did. Can I be a character? You can make me bad or stupid just as long as I’m on the pages.”

Blake laughed. “Absolutely, and I’ll make you a brave one, with awesome culinary skills.”

Tonya squealed and flopped back. “I love you.”

Quinn glanced at Blake with a grin, then Jacob leaned up, his head protruding through the seats. “I would like to request to be the dashing love interest, also very brave and freakishly handsome with a huge—”

“Jacob!” Quinn yelled.

“My sister has a very nasty mind and apparently a low opinion of me,” Jacob said calmly. “I was going to say a huge bank account. I’d like to be a rich man for a change. Oh, and I want black hair, a really broad chest, and washboard abs. If you want to embellish on my man parts, please feel free to do so.”

*******

Quinn and Blake showered together, too tired to do anything but bathe. Neither bothered to dry her hair and crawled into bed. “I feel like I dreamed all of last night,” Quinn said with heavy eyes as she lay on her side facing Blake, their fingers entwined.

“Me too. Thank you for suggesting it and for being with me. I think you know I would’ve never done that without you.”

“You would’ve eventually. I couldn’t help you if you weren’t already prepared to make these changes. This is all you, sweetie.”

Blake grinned, half her face hidden in the pillow. “I’m your sweetheart?”

“Yes, you are.”

Blake raised up on her elbow, her expression serious. “Quinn, don’t ever think that my affection for you is because you take care of me. I’m grateful for that, but what endears you to me is your personality, your charm, wit, compassion. Those are just a few of the things that draw me to you. If I weren’t half asleep, the list would be much longer.”

“Thank you for telling me that,” Quinn said as she rolled onto her back. “Some things you just need to hear. Now lay down.”

Blake gave Quinn a quick kiss and laid her head on her shoulder. “When I wake up, I’m gonna rock your world.”

“Sleep fast,” Quinn said drowsily.

*******

“Why aren’t you writing?” Quinn asked the next evening.

Blake held up her hands and flexed her fingers. “It’s there. My head feels like it’s going to explode with all sorts of ideas, but when I type, it’s all gibberish. I don’t want to sit here. I want to be on the couch with you.”

“We should talk about this.”

“I don’t want to.”

Quinn sat up. “Because you know what I’m going to say, and you know I’ll be right.”

“Shh.”

Quinn folded the blanket she’d been lying under. “I’m gonna go home. After work tomorrow, I’ll come back and we can have dinner, spend a little time together, then I’ll go home again.”

Blake twirled around in her chair. “I don’t like anything you just had to say.”

Quinn got up, walked over to Blake, and clasped her face in both hands as she leaned down to kiss her. “You have obligations. Couples have to balance work and play, that’s life.”

Blake grabbed Quinn’s hands and held them tight. “Okay, I’m ready to talk about this. I like sleeping next to you. I’m hooked, I’m a junkie. I won’t write if you leave. I’ll just sit here and think about you.”

“How do we fix that?” Quinn asked as she knelt.

“I need to rearrange my schedule to match yours. Write when you work, so we can have evenings and nights together. So you stay. I’ll write until midnight, then I’ll go to bed. You wake me up when you get up in the morning, and I’ll get back to work.”

“And how is that going to fix your immediate problem?” Quinn smiled. “I really don’t want to see your head pop off.”

“Go to my room, lock the door, and do not let me in until midnight. I may howl, scratch, and beg.” Blake laid a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Be strong for both of us.”

“Fine, I’m taking this.” Quinn snatched a book off of Blake’s desk. She kissed her and took off running.

Blake watched her go and turned to her computer. “Okay, just forget how great her butt looks in those yoga pants. Focus…make something happen…I need tea…focus.”

Blake reread the last paragraph that she’d written. The book was more than halfway done. It was time to start winding it down to a finish, but each time Blake tried, her brain locked up like a safe. The idea for the next book was pushing hard to the forefront of her mind. Blake sighed and opened a new page.

*******

At a quarter till one, Blake realized that she was parched and had to go to the bathroom. She’d written for hours nonstop as the new story played in her head like a fast-paced movie. It felt as though words were dripping from her fingertips like water, the story flowed so easily. She couldn’t stop. Times like this didn’t come often; she had to ride the wave.

She crept down the hall and softly opened the bedroom door. Quinn was sound asleep with the book on her chest. Blake closed the door, went to the bathroom, and made herself a cup of tea. All the while, scenes flashed through her mind. She returned to her computer, and her fingers danced over the keys.

*******

“You did it again.”

Blake sat up, and a pencil that had been stuck to her face fell onto the desk.

“Honey, this can’t be good for your back,” Quinn said as she rubbed it.

“Oh, Quinn, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Can you walk?”

“Yes, my feet aren’t asleep this time. I’ve only been sleeping…an hour.”

“An hour?” Quinn exclaimed. “Get your little butt in the bed.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m a-goin’,” Blake said, testing her Southern accent again. “I won’t sleep long today. I’ll be ready to switch schedules tonight.”

Quinn gave her a quick kiss. “I have to go. See you after work.”

Blake watched Quinn walk out and flopped down onto the couch like a rag doll.

*******

Blake stared at the chicken that was ringing like a phone. She didn’t want to answer it. “You stop that, don’t you have voice mail?” But the chicken went right on ringing as it circled her. Blake awoke with a start, sat straight up, and stared at her phone. “Damn chicken.” She crawled across the couch, then slid to the floor and grabbed it.

“Hello.”

“Are you at your computer?” Cassidy asked.

“I was sleeping.”

“Go to your computer.”

Blake climbed up in her chair and pressed the power button. She propped her chin in her hand and was about to doze off again when Cassidy asked. “Is it up yet?”

“What do you want me to see?”

“Your Facebook page.”

“Cass, I always go with what you write. Why do I need to look at it?”

“You’ll have the answer when you see it.”

Blake signed in, her eyes half closed. They flashed open wide at the picture on the screen. “Who is that?”

“You!”

Blake stared at herself. Her face showed abject horror, mouth and eyes wide open. Her legs were spread as though she were about to do a split, one arm was in the air along with her hair. “What the hell?”

“That’s exactly what I said when I saw it. I’ll read the post. ‘Blake, thank you for accompanying the Flemming Paranormal Research Group on our investigation of the Whitley farmhouse. You were awesome.’” Cassidy released a sigh. “Blake, you don’t look very awesome. You look like a petrified cartoon character! Do you have any idea how long I’ve worked to cultivate your image? Why would you pose like this? What were you doing out at night? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to make a public appearance?”

“Stop yelling at me,” Blake said calmly. “I did not pose for that picture. There was a video camera rolling in that room, I assume they grabbed a still from the footage. It was not a public appearance—”

“You appear to be shitting your pants in public! What do you call that?”

“Scream at me again, and I’m going to hang up.”

“Who…who are you?” Cassidy asked, sounding confused.

“I’m Blake Taylor, former chicken and doormat. You can fix this, just make a joke out of it.”

“Wait, wait, wait, back up. First, tell me what you were actually doing.”

“Quinn and I along with her brother and his wife joined this group of paranormal researchers on a ghost hunt. When this was filmed, Quinn was dragging me out of the house because one of the
professionals
ran out screaming. I should be getting some excellent audio of me soon talking to a ghost during an EVP session once Carl gets everything together. That should woo anyone who may think less of me after seeing this.”

“Honey, how much of the medication have you been taking?”

“None, absolutely none of it.”

“I think you need to send me the book you’re working on,” Cassidy said, her tone suspicious.

“It’s on hold, I’ve begun something else.”

“What?” Cassidy bellowed.

“I warned you about the screaming. The book I was working on isn’t ready to be finished. I know it won’t make sense to you, but that story just hasn’t come to a close yet. I’ve begun another one. You will have a book by the deadline and another to follow immediately after. It’s all good.”

“Okay…fine. I’ll let you get back to sleep. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Sure.” Blake pressed the button to end the call, went back to the couch, and flopped down. “I feel that backbone growing in, yeah!”

*******

“Oh, Blake, I don’t know if we should be doing this.”

“Tonya, you’re not an accomplice, you’re only the transportation. I’ll be in and out in probably less than ten minutes. Quinn and Jacob will never know, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Tonya said without much conviction.

“You swore your secrecy.”

“What if she tells Jacob or Quinn?”

“You blame it all on me.” Blake pushed open the door and climbed out. “I’ll be right back.”

Maybe it was the lower temperatures, but more than likely, it was the encounter with the chicken and a ghost that caused a lot of the fear reins to vaporize their hold on Blake. Fresh from her chat with Cassidy, she felt very bold, and before she lost her nerve, she was going to say what she should’ve the day she met Nelda Scott. With great purpose in her stride, she marched into the nursing home and down the halls to Nelda’s room. She paused long enough to make sure the woman wasn’t undressed, then took a seat next to the bed.

“What the hell are you doing here and where’s Quinn?” Nelda asked.

“She’s not here, and I came to chat,” Blake said as she crossed her legs.

“I don’t have anything to say to you. Get out.”

“Good. I’ll do the talking. I’ve met your children. I haven’t spent much time with Dawn, but I have spent a considerable amount with Quinn, and I’m really getting to know Jacob. They are kind, intelligent, warm, giving, dedicated to one another, and shockingly devoted to you. Quinn told me that you predominantly raised them, so I can’t comprehend if the three of them possess all the same wonderful attributes how you can despise one and love the others. I don’t have children, but if I did and they were like yours, I’d be beside myself with pride.”

Nelda’s lips curled in a snarl. “That’s right. I did raise them on my own while my husband gallivanted around like he didn’t have a care in the world. And then one day, he realized they considered him a stranger. Oh, he made a change then, asked for everyone’s forgiveness, and they gave it to him. All those years that he couldn’t be bothered with them were gone in an instant. Not only did the kids begin to think he was made of gold, but everyone in town. Malcolm was the good time Charlie.”

Nelda shoved the nasal cannula deeper into her nose as she raised the head of her bed. “When word got out that my daughter was a queer, no one blamed Malcolm. They blamed me, the mother who did everything for her. I’d hear the talk when I was in town. They made sure I heard. ‘Nelda wasn’t this, Nelda wasn’t that.’ Malcolm’s name was never brought up. People I respected, thought were my friends, held me accountable for Quinn’s perversion.”

Blake watched the rapid rise and fall of Nelda’s bony chest. “Nelda,” she said gently, “I can understand how demoralizing that must’ve been for you. But you put the opinions of people callous enough to say those things they knew you would hear over your daughter. By your actions, you are saying what they think is more important to you than Quinn. Where are those people now? Do they do your laundry? Do they make sure you have the things you like?” She pointed at the wreath on the door. “Do they care if you have something pretty to look at? Quinn does. As horrible as they made you feel, you make Quinn feel a hundred times worse because you’re her mother.”

Blake leaned forward when Nelda turned her face away. “I don’t mean to be heartless, but we both know you don’t have a lot of time left here. If you don’t do something, you’re going to go into the next life, and I won’t judge and say what you’ll face there. But what you will leave behind here is the girl you gave birth to, the one you read to each night, the one despite all you’ve done still comes here to take care of you now. She will have to live the rest of her life believing that you hated her. It won’t take much, less than a paragraph—two sentences. ‘I love you. I’m proud of you.’ I’m begging you, Nelda, please make this right before it’s too late.”