The Flip (13 page)

“I think he was a railroad baron or something. I keep meaning to google Hemmings, but alas”—she held the fan to her head dramatically, then fanned herself furiously—“I
don’t have a laptop anymore.” Julie fluttered her eyelashes, her gaze cloyingly sweet.

“She doesn’t even know how to do it!” Tessa sneered, her eyes glowing red.

Tessa, wild with fury, watched the girl paw through her possessions. Floating around the room, she spun faster and faster as her agitation rose. With dizzying speed, she banged into Julie again, her laughter bouncing off the wooden walls. Julie swayed, feeling dizzy. Maybe she
was
working too hard.

Sal took a call and told her, “My guys just got here. They’ll take over. Sit down and let them cart this stuff out of here.”

Julie sat on the rocker, holding the pretty
doll, letting the peace of the moment wash through her. The fan hung on her delicate wrist as though it belonged there. Two workers started carrying out the boxes, and soon all she saw was the dust motes drifting in the weak sunlight coming through the strangely shaped windows. Builders called them eyebrows because usually a house had two of them in the vicinity of the attic. They even looked like eyebrows on the front of the house. Resting her head against the wicker of the chair, she rocked gently, lost in thought. Her eyes drifted shut. Minutes later, she felt the momentum change. The rocker moved faster, its curved wooden rails lifting higher and higher. Her hands gripped the arms, her feet trying to stop it, the movement slamming her hard against the medallion back of the rocker. She opened her
mouth to call Brad, when abruptly the air was sucked from her lungs. Her face purpling, Julie gasped for air; her chest felt as though an elephant were sitting on it. Her arms were plastered to her sides, held by invisible shackles. Wheezing, she tried to squeeze air into her lungs, her eyesight becoming pinpoints of white light. Just as suddenly as it had started, relief came. In an instant, the pressure was gone. Julie pulled great gulps of air into her starved lungs, her eyes tearing, her hands suddenly free to stop the manic rocking of the chair.

She stood on shaky legs, looking around the room. The porcelain doll lay broken in a heap on the dirty floor, the beautiful face cracked in half. Julie whimpered as she bent to pick it up,
her eyes cautiously darting around the layered shadows of the room.

This time when the Sentinels removed Tessa, she was put in the very dark place she didn’t like.

Gerald went after her, sharing her imprisonment despite her resentful silence. Tessa shook her foot impatiently, her eyes scanning the deep cavern.

“How long do you think they’ll keep us here?”

Gerald shrugged. It was devoid of noise, an airless space, with no walls to confine them, yet Tessa was confined.

“I said, how long do you think they’ll keep
us here?” she demanded.

“I don’t know, Tessa. I don’t communicate with them. They don’t tell me their plans. They just do. This is what happens when you cause trouble.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means”—Gerald stood to float around the blank space—“that I never have a problem with them.”

“Because you’re invisible.” Tessa flicked a red-gold lock of hair defiantly. “You were invisible while you were alive, and you’re just as invisible now that you’re dead.”

Gerald grabbed Tessa by her arms. They levitated, their feet dangling, weightless in space.
Tessa rigidly pulled away, but Gerald gripped her chin, kissing her in a combustible mixture of frustration, anger, and finally his devastating love. Tessa fought him, her hands pushing at his shoulders.

“Get away from me!” she shouted. Tessa shoved him with both hands. “I can’t stand you. No matter how much you wait, I’ll never love you. You can’t make me love you. I wish you weren’t here. I want a real man, even if he’s dead. I want one who makes me feel like a woman,” she told him, aiming all her resentment toward his ever-ready shoulders. Usually, he would soothe her, try to negotiate to get her out of there.

Gerald backed up, his chest heaving. “Have it your way, Tessa. I have waited long
enough for you.” He winked out, and she was left with blankness.

Tessa blinked into the darkness. Nothing but the blackness stared back at her. She could hear the jumbled thoughts in her head. She floated, her hands splayed, sometimes spinning into an aimless vortex and rotating until she lost all her bearings. It was so quiet it hurt; the lack of light hurt, the loneliness hurt. He had left her. She had finally pushed him far enough, and Gerald, who had said he’d never leave her, had simply abandoned her to this void. It was cold. She was freezing. There was no one to comfort her.

Reaching out, she called, “Gerald? Gerald?” She drifted; there was nothing to latch on to, an
absence of light, the silence of the vacuum filling her head. Tessa was alone. Completely and utterly alone. “Gerrrrald!” she screamed into the darkness.

Willy left when the sun set, his good humor restored with the promise of breakfast and his return the next morning. He had made short work of the reporter and her crew. He recounted the story to Brad; it was a simple matter of confusing doublespeak. Frustrated, they left, vowing to return. The forensics guys came and went, taking the bag of bones for study. They told Willy the bones were really old, maybe a hundred years or more. The thighbone was broken, a lead ball nearby. This confirmed the remains were from the last century. A report would follow, they
promised. Brad, Julie, and Willy could work on the house, but they had to stay out of the subcellar until the case was closed. Willy waited until they were alone before handing Brad a huge machete.

“What’s this for?” Brad held up the deadly knife.

“There’s some bad mojo here. I don’t know, brother, but you got to be prepared.”

Brad considered the weapon. “You’re not buying into any ghost crap, are you, Will?”

“Let me just say that this place gives me the willies.” He laughed. “So I think I got to give a little Willy’s back.”

Brad stuck the large knife in a corner of
the main salon, behind boxes of bottled water. He then stepped out onto the porch, looking to make sure no reporters were camped out on the street. Briefly, he thought of brandishing the machete, just to get a rise out of the reporters. He smiled evilly, thinking of the pleasure of screwing with them, but it seemed they had finally given up. Satisfied that they were alone, he shut off the outdoor lights and locked the large double doors with a strange feeling of domesticity. He walked through the house, turning off lights, finally coming into the main salon that was serving as their bedroom. The fire he’d lit earlier warmed the room with a honey hue. Julie was fast asleep, a half-empty glass of milk next to her on the floor.

Silently, Brad stripped, sliding in beside
Julie’s sleeping form. He noticed the fan lying on the bed beside her face. It was a queen-size mattress, large enough to make each feel lonely on his or her side. The house settled, and with a strange feeling of ownership, Brad identified the squeaks and rattles he was beginning to recognize. Pipes clanged, radiators hissed, and he watched his wife’s hunched shoulders. Scooting over, he spooned with her. Julie wiggled against him, letting him feel right at home. She turned into his embrace, fitting neatly under his chin, with a satisfied sigh of relief. He looked down and saw that her eyes were open. They glittered in the darkness. She held the fan above them and expertly snapped it open, the fretwork of the spines letting in the moonlight from the window. She stared at the painting of the Asian ladies,
touching the images with her forefinger.

“It’s pretty,” she whispered.

Brad kissed her and rumbled, “Like its new owner.”

Julie snuggled into him, the fan slipping to the floor beside the bed. Sleep gentled them, Brad’s soft snores comforting Julie while she rested. Their arms twined, and when their eyes opened, both reflected a red glow.

Gerald blinked in surprise, taking in a deep breath, his lungs filling with air. It bubbled in his chest, his nostrils flaring. His eyes widened as he lifted his hands to stare at the pads of his fingertips, then caressed the velvet softness of the body next to him. Gerald touched his lips against
Tessa’s startled mouth, as if asking permission. She made a sound between a whimper and a whisper, but he heard her say yes. Tessa’s fingers stroked his hair, creating rivulets of shivering pleasure. She held her body against his, drinking in the contact, her hands embracing his back so that they touched everywhere. He heard her murmur, her deep voice vibrating against his chest, the whisper of her breath feathering across his collarbone. He knew he spoke but couldn’t remember what he said, as his mouth traveled over her petal-soft flesh. She was all rose and milk, her flesh vibrant and alive, her body responding to his touch with delight. He pressed his nose to the soft skin between her shoulder and neck, drinking the dewy moistness that pearled on its surface. Tessa gasped with wonder, opening
her body without reservation, the sensual delight of flesh against flesh awakening ancient memories. She placed their hands palm to palm, open and defenseless, completely giving herself to him. Their bodies touched again and again, feverishly reaching new heights, not wanting the night to end. Both exhaled in an explosion of pleasure; Gerald’s borrowed heart beat furiously in his chest. Slick with sweat, he lay still, holding Tessa, who clung to his wide shoulders, a single tear escaping her luminous eyes.

“I thought you left me,” she whispered with a sob.

Gerald shook his head mutely.

“I was afraid. I don’t want to be alone,” she
whispered close to his ear.

Gerald planted his lips over hers, kissing her gently, using Brad’s body to wrap himself around her. They touched everywhere. His fingers grazed her swollen lips.

“I am tired of waiting,” he told her.

“Then don’t wait anymore.”

Gerald closed his eyes with pleasure, his hands cupping Tessa’s full breasts, relief warring with excitement. Tessa’s experienced hands caressed him, snatching the breath from his body, sending chills down his torso. It felt so good. He whispered how much he loved her, taking what she offered. Tessa loved him back the way he’d always dreamed. They rocked together, locked in
a timeless dance, their eyes lighting with deep passion, making them blind to everything but the intensity of their borrowed time. Spent and replete, Tessa touched Gerald’s cheek, her gaze thoughtful as she considered his smooth skin. Gerald opened his mouth to speak, and she silenced him with a kiss.

Brad woke to stare at his wife’s naked form in his arms. Did he dream that they had made love? His body told him it was no dream, but the memory was hazy. Pulling her close, he kissed her again, making sure the memories he created next would be his own.

Chapter 15

1862

Tessa raced down the stairs, her dress unfastened in the rear, her hair a mass of red-gold tangles. Dawn poked over the water, painting the calm bay orange and gold. She ran to the front door to see Gerald turning from their drive onto Bedlam, the cumbersome wagon swaying on the rutted road. She opened her mouth to call him back, but the words died in her throat. She never thanked him for the fan. She watched the wagon’s slow progress down the road beside the water. She wanted to tell him something. She wasn’t sure
just what, but it gnawed at her consciousness.

“He’s not going to wait around for you forever, you know.”

Kurt came up behind her, resting his tall, lanky frame against the fretted post supporting the porch roof. He chewed on the end of a cheroot, the acidic smell burning her nose. Tessa made a face.

“Oh yes, he will,” she told her brother with conviction. “He’ll never leave me.”

“There will come a day he’ll be tired of your behavior. Then where will you be?”

“Make sure Lady Pamela loves you more than you love her,” Tessa told him, her eyes watching the diminishing figure in the wagon.

“Why?”

“I thought you were a poet, Kurt. Don’t you know the one who commands a heart wins?” She opened the fan, hiding her lower face, her eyes coming to rest on the lone figure of a soldier leaning against the fence post. “No one will ever command me. I own my own heart.” She fanned herself, a languid smile inviting Lewis to come back to the house.

Chapter 16

“Brad.” Julie looked up from Brad’s laptop. Hers had been destroyed in the fire, and Brad had given her the one he kept in the truck. She sat cross-legged on their air mattress. “There’s some weird shit happening in this house.”

Brad dropped the towel that was around his waist. He stood in all his naked glory, and Julie snapped the computer lid closed to drink in his maleness.

“I thought it was rather conservative sex this morning. Nary a handcuff in sight.”

Julie blushed. “I’m not talking about that. There is definitely something odd about this
place.”

Brad agreed as he slid on his jeans. “So?”

“So…there is this woman. Her name is”—she consulted the laptop again—“Georgia Oaken. She talks to dead people.”

“Stop right there, partner. No exorcisms allowed. The only things I saw spinning last night were stars.” He stooped to kiss her. His breath smelled of toothpaste and coffee.

She pulled his head down. “Please?”

Brad shook his head. “Waste of time, waste of money. I’m beginning to appreciate the old house, Jules. If we share it with a bunch of shades, it makes no difference to me.”

“But what if they are interfering? Brad, I really think we should consider it.”

“Not gonna happen,” he told her, as he walked out of the room to start the day’s project.

Julie looked down at the laptop, reading testimonials about the psychic. She clicked on the link to a new book Oaken had just published, buying it on Amazon. She heard Willy’s voice from the other room, so she got up, dressed, and wandered in to where they were consulting a punch list.

“We’re going to Home Depot,” Brad said without looking up. “Are you sure these are the colors you want for the master bath?”

“I like them.”