Sidekicks (12 page)

Cooper was clearly watching for me when I walked into Chick-fil-A just in time for his dinner. As always, his grin made me feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. After asking me if I wanted to eat something, which I didn't, he grabbed a chicken sandwich and a drink. Of course I sneaked in a kiss as we settled into the same booth as before.

"I have something to tell you, but first I want to know why you're still blocking your dad."

Cooper winced. "He came to you again?"

I nodded. "And will probably keep on coming if you don't open up some doors."

"Damn it, Mia. I don't know what to say to him."

"Well, I know what to say to you, at least I think I do." I gave him all the details of my conversation with his deceased dad and grandparent the night before, if you could even call our communication that. "Do you think I'm right?"

"Seems to be adding up."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Visit a woman I hope is my grandma Ruby in Texas, I guess."

"When?"

"Can you go tomorrow?"

So he wanted me along. I couldn't hide my smile. "Yes. I have her number if you want to call her." I began digging into my hobo bag.

Cooper stopped me. "No. We should go unannounced and get a feel for the place. If the vibe isn't right, we'll leave, no harm done. How far is it to Nacogdoches, anyway?"

"Just over a hundred miles."

He acknowledged my answer with a nod, but his expression told me he had some qualms about dropping in on a grandmother who'd never made any effort to contact her grandson. I honestly couldn't blame him. We'd both need a good shot of courage to get it done.

Night had closed in by the time I left at eight. On my way home, I stopped by the restaurant to get takeout for my dinner. I loved Tagliaro's, from the gorgeous courtyard seating to the pristine kitchen. Located in the outskirts of Martinsburg, it stayed busy, especially on weekends. The Tagliaro reputation and a couple of good write ups by well-known food critics had resulted in a five star rating that kept diners coming. And we never got bad reviews on the internet.

Tonight I slipped in through the backdoor, acknowledging the spiritual presence of the chef who'd helped my parents open the place twenty-five years ago. Berthold Caputo had been the real thing, as Italian as my dad's parents who'd immigrated in the early 1900s. I thought he lingered because he'd loved the place in life.

"
Buona note
." I kept my voice low. Though I'd told Mom and Dad that Bertoldo was hanging around, I hadn't mentioned his visits to anyone else.

As was normal for most Saturdays, I found the kitchen in controlled chaos. I saw servers coming in and out, their arms laden with either empty dishes or full ones. Ben Mills, sous chef, smiled a greeting. "What's your pleasure, Mia?"

"Chicken parmesan, I think."

He nodded and got busy. I headed to the office, where Dad worked on his computer, no doubt entering the day's receipts. I gave him a hug from behind. He patted my hand. I went in search of Mom, who I spotted mingling with diners up front. As always, I absorbed the beauty that was Tagliaro's. Raised in the restaurant as I had been, the clink of silver against china was music to my ears, as were the muted conversations of our happy guests.

I waved to Tony, the bartender, and to Gina, the hostess, on my way to my Mom. She gave me a side-armed hug when I got to her. "Everything okay?"

"Uh-huh. Just getting myself some dinner."

"I'll put it on your tab," she said with a teasing laugh.

I smiled politely at the diners she'd been talking to and made my way to the kitchen once again. There I sat on a stool and watched everyone until Ben handed me my food. To say it smelled like heaven didn't come close to describing the amazing aromas coming from the plate.

Not wanting to eat in the break room all alone, I dragged my stool to a corner so I'd be out of the way as I ate. After that, I helped Dad, who summoned me back to his office. He wanted to make changes to the menu, something I always did for him. His computer skills were limited to correspondence and spread sheets.

When I finally finished printing off new menus, it was closing time. I grabbed some bread sticks to-go and put them in a Tagliaro take-out bag as I left. With my radio blasting, I hit the road, noting that the rural two-lane I always traveled to get home was unusually deserted for a Saturday. The smell of garlic tickled my nose, so I slipped a hand into the sack to steal a break stick that I was really too full to eat. Just as my fingers closed around one, a woman came running out of nowhere and streaked across the road in front of my car. Screaming, I stomped the brake, but I ran right through her anyway.

Through
her?

Yeah, I realized, breaking into sobs of relief. She was nothing but a ghost. As fresh as that young spirit I'd seen at the hospital, but still just a spirit. With my heart hammering painfully in my chest, I eased the car to the side of the road and put it in park. I rescued my food sack from the floor where it had fallen when I stopped and set it back in the seat. Then I closed my eyes. Immediately, I saw her again, clear as day, a full-body apparition. Were those fresh bruises on her arms? Was that blood all over the front of her blouse?

Opening my eyes, I absorbed my surroundings. I saw that the car faced west. To my right lay a gravel road bordered on each side by woods. No, it was a drive, and it curved, disappearing into some trees and making it impossible to see what lay at the end of it. A graveyard, I wondered? A country church? A house? I looked for a mailbox, but didn't see one. I looked for a distant light that might indicate life beyond the woods. Didn't see that either.

Gathering my courage, I backed up the car and headed down that narrow, overgrown drive. My pampered car struggled a little with the terrain, but I didn't stop until I glimpsed a clearing ahead. At least I thought that's what it was. I was pretty sure I saw buildings, too, and was that a car?

Terror suddenly gripped me.

Only an idiot would try to trail what she truly believed was a freshly made ghost. Who knew what horrors lay ahead? Did I really want to drive right into them?

Knowing I did not, I hit the brake again. Then I shifted into reverse and backed out the way I'd come in. Though a call to 9-1-1 might've been in order, I had no intentions of making one.

I could just hear myself: "Hi, I'm a medium. I don't know where I am, but I just I saw a ghost run out of the trees, which means her killer could be mutilating her dead body as we speak." Yeah, right. If the police even followed up on my crazy call, they'd probably wind up crashing down some poor farmer's door and scaring the heck out of him.

For the first time in ten years, I hated what I was, what I could do. I rolled down the window and put my head out, shouting into the night. "Leave me alone!" Then I looked both ways, shifted into drive, and drove like hell to Marty Bookman's.

I made a couple of wrong turns I blamed on my shattered nerves, but still got there before Cooper did. Though there were lights inside the house, I didn't knock on the door, choosing to sit in my car instead. The moment he pulled into the drive and parked to the side of the concrete--probably so vehicles in the garage could get out--Cooper jogged my way. I met him at the curb.

After taking one look at my face, he pulled me into his arms. "What?" The word felt warm against my hair.

"I'm totally freaking out."

He leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at my face, frowning when he did. "Let's go inside."

I resisted. "Should we?"

"Marty's parents are obviously up. As for Marty, he's out with Brynn and won't be back for hours."

"I know. Let me call Mom, okay?" I did, telling her I was with Cooper and would be home soon. She automatically told me to drive carefully on my way there, something she always said.

One thing about my parents that I truly loved was their trust in me. We were tight, probably because they'd both made such an effort to understand my gifts. I kept no secrets that mattered; I couldn't. They knew me inside and out, and we respected as much as we loved one another. For that reason, they seldom fussed when I changed my plans. Always calling to tell them probably helped, too.

Cooper took my hand, which had an oddly calming effect on me. We headed to the front door. I wondered briefly if he had a key, but didn't ask. I did put into words something I'd been curious about for a while. "How long are you going to stay here? Aren't you worried that you're imposing on them?"

"Of course I am. But every time I talk about leaving, Mrs. Bookman shushes me."

"It must feel odd staying here when you have parents and a perfectly good bedroom right across town."

"Yeah, and even odder that I feel more comfortable in this house than there. It hasn't been easy trying to be someone I'm not for eight years. It was like I was stuck in someone else's life, and the part didn't fit me."

I nodded, feeling worse for him than ever, if that was possible. Though I'd always known I was lucky to have parents with open minds, I'd honestly had no idea just how much.

Cooper gave me a quick kiss on the porch and then opened the door. I stepped inside first, noting the parquet floors of the foyer and a side table with a bouquet of yellow fall flowers in it. I touched one. Silk, though they looked very real. Stairs, ahead of us and slightly to our left, ascended to the second floor.

To the right a door opened into what appeared to be a formal living room. I could hear a TV coming from somewhere in the back of the house. The door to our left was closed. A couple of words popped into my head: happy and warm.

Cooper took my jacket and led the way to a huge den, where he introduced me to Marty's parents, Caroline and Larry.

Mr. Bookman gave me a grin and a nod. Mrs. Bookman jumped right up and engulfed me in a hug. "Cooper has told us so much about you, Mia. And you surely know Marty is your number one fan."

"Oh yeah?" I felt my face heat up.

"He was not happy that the baseball had been under our noses the whole time we were turning his grandma's house upside down looking for it. I'd forgotten all about that old cedar chest."

I nodded and smiled. "I know it's not really my place to say this, but thank you--both of you--for letting Cooper stay here."

Mrs. B laughed. "I'll do anything for free babysitting."

Free babysitting? I caught Cooper's eye. He hadn't mentioned that.

"One night a week doesn't go very far towards payback," he said by way of explanation.

"Well, the kids adore you, so I call us square."

Cooper clearly liked the sound of that. "We're going to hang out in Marty's room for a while."

With a little wave, she returned to her husband, who was watching us from the couch. I liked that they'd obviously been cuddling, something my parents did, too. With Cooper in the lead, we left them to head upstairs. I also liked that family photos covered the walls all the way up.

When we got to Marty's room moments later, Cooper moved a laptop off one of the twin beds so we could sit on it. "Are you okay now?"

"I think I am."

"Good. Mind if I take a quick shower before we talk? I smell like a chicken nugget."

I shook my head that I didn't. He handed me the remote, grabbed some clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later, I heard water running. I didn't turn on the TV, but explored instead.

Marty's interests littered the room, from the sports posters on the walls to the mangas on his bedside table. I saw trophies, a baseball bat, and an amazing array of Star Wars stuff he'd probably been collecting since he was little. His shelves sagged under the weight.

Did living amongst all Marty's personal stuff make Cooper feel lost or disconnected? I knew I'd have felt that way. As far as I could tell, my guy had nothing of his own around, and my resentment toward his parents--his mom in particular--grew.

When Cooper came out the bathroom, he smelled very fresh and sporty. He rubbed his hair with the towel, which he tossed aside before sitting next to me on the bed.

I liked that he didn't bother with a comb. The messy look suited him well.

"So what's up?"

I told Cooper about running down a spirit in the middle of nowhere.

"Damn, Mia. This is getting crazy. Have you told your parents anything about the ghosts?"

"No, but now I'm thinking I should."

"Me, too. I also think you should call Detective Simms and try to make him understand how persistent these women are."

I sighed my reluctance, but gave in. "Okay, but he's just going to say what he always says: stay out of it."

Cooper kissed me. I pushed him back on the bed and then joined him there, our legs dangling over the side of the mattress. No guy had ever smelled or felt so good to me, and I let him know it.

Though I wasn't sure how long we'd been making out when we finally came up for air, I had a sneaking suspicion it was past time for me to go home.

A quick glance at my watch confirmed it. "Yikes. I need to leave, which is sad, since this was just getting good."

"Baby, you have no idea."

With a grin, I kissed him again and then made myself get off that bed and put on my jacket. When we stepped into the carpeted hallway, we heard a giggle.

"Shit," said Cooper, his curse a whisper I barely heard. He slipped down the hall and peeked into another bedroom. A moment later a rectangle of light fell across the hall. I walked toward it to the accompaniment of squeals and more giggles coming from the room.

When I peeked through the doorway, I saw what was definitely a girl's room, as in Jenn's. She had canopy bed with a bright pink comforter on it and Disney princess posters everywhere. A Cinderella castle sat in one corner. In another I saw roller skates and a pint-sized softball bat. Clearly this room belonged to a modern girl, even though she was young. I liked that she already had layers.

Cooper, bent over the mattress, tickled Jenn unmercifully while Joey snickered from a corner of the room.

The moment he stopped, she began chanting, "Cooper and Mia sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."