The Sorceress (17 page)

“Hello,” she heard the senator say. He'd answered from inside his study.

Instead of hanging up, Jen kept the phone pressed against her ear, unable to resist an opportunity to eavesdrop on the senator and his wife.

“You left three urgent messages. What's the emergency? You know this is the most important time of my life,” Catherine Provost said, fuming.

“Sorry, but I thought it was important. Our nanny is at her wit's end. She needs some help. We're going to have to employ a second nanny.”

“This is the worst possible time for you to bring this up,”
Catherine Provost complained. “I already spoke with Jen and she told me that she understood the historical importance of hanging in there with Ethan. With less than two weeks until the election, why would she put us in this terrible position? Is babysitting a little kid too much to do for your country?”

Jen was offended. Catherine was duping the public. The vice presidential nominee was no sweetheart. She was a tyrant and a merciless bitch.

“She's overworked, Catherine. I don't know if it's in Ethan's best interest to have one nanny working around the clock.”

“We're ratcheting up the campaign stops. I don't even have a minute for myself, so how can I possibly squeeze in the time to fly home and interview a new nanny?”

“I think your popularity would skyrocket if you took a day or two off to…”

“At this critical time?” Catherine practically shrieked. “I don't think so. And by the way, pal, your absence on the stump has been duly noted. The press is having a field day, hinting that your absence is a silent, jealous tantrum.”

“That's not true and you know it. I sent out a press release explaining that our son has an aversion to unfamiliar people and that he's most comfortable at home. During this critical time, with one parent constantly away, it's in Ethan's best interest that I be here with him.”

“Yeah, I heard about your press release. No one is buying it, Daniel.”

“Who cares? I'm being completely honest. We didn't know what was wrong with Ethan until a few months ago. If you weren't being vetted and didn't need a reasonable explanation for his odd behavior, who knows how long it would have taken us to discover that he's autistic. For the life of me…after all
those evaluations, why didn't one of those doctors diagnose him years ago?”

“Autism is often hard to diagnose,” Catherine explained. “I'm grateful that we finally have an answer.”

“You're right. Well, one of us has to show some support for the little guy. I've been approached about being a spokesperson for autism—”

“Oh, really?” Catherine sounded delighted. “Hey, that's a great idea—politically speaking. Having my husband standing up for something charitable…you know…doing the type of work that's expected of a first lady is really foreword thinking. Kudos, Daniel. I'll talk to you later.”

“Catherine!”

“I have to go.”

“Since I'm assuming the concerned parent's role, I figure I might as well go all the way. First thing tomorrow, I'm calling the agency. I'll be interviewing nannies, tomorrow. Wish me luck.”

“The media will be out en mass if they get wind of that.”

“Don't worry. I'll be very discreet.”

Wow! The senator had stood up to his wife on Jen's behalf. Feeling flattered, Jen couldn't suppress a smile. She waited until the Provosts disconnected and then quietly replaced the phone back into its base. Still, the walls were starting to close in on her. Jen was on edge and needed to get out of the house.

With Ethan finally asleep and the senator at home, maybe he wouldn't mind if she went out for a few hours. Rome was waiting for her to call him back. And she intended to.

She'd been in a sex drought for months and Hot Cop was the de-stressor her tense body was craving. But as tempted as she was to make a booty call, now was not the time for sex play.

She and Rome were experiencing the same paranormal occurrences—both
witnessing a ghost lady running around on Piper's Bridge. Jen needed to get to the bottom of the phenomena.

Perhaps, putting their heads together, she and Rome could make some sense of what was going on and, hopefully, with his history of ghostly encounters, maybe he could figure out a way to make the sightings stop.

Standing outside the senator's study, Jen raised her fist, prepared to tap on the door. She heard a woman's low murmur.

“Why so glum, Danny Boy?”

Jen bristled. It was the voice of the dirty blonde. Hanky panky! Annoyed but nevertheless intrigued, Jen pressed her ear against the door.

“We shouldn't be doing this. It's not right,” the senator said.

“I'm sorry about that broken vase. I lost my temper when you started texting your wife. I'll replace it if you promise to stop sulking.”

“I don't care about the vase.”

“Then, what's wrong?”

“Us. We're wrong. I'm a faithful husband and I really think you should leave.”

“Come on, Danny. The cat's away and you should play. Let's have some fun. Want me to go find a broom and a dustpan? I'll pretend to be your French maid while I clean up the broken glass.”

“That's not necessary.”

“Why do you let her get you so uptight? I can help you unwind.” Dirty blonde was speaking in a sultry, extra-breathy voice. What a slut. Jen really hated the woman for having the prestigious position as the senator's assistant—a job that Catherine had promised she'd get for Jen. Jen could forget about that opportunity now that the dirty blonde was securing her position by adding blowjobs to her job description.

The next sound from the study was the senator's breath, which came out in ragged gasps of arousal. Dirty blonde was no doubt on her knees, having her way with him. Jen sucked her teeth. With the senator preoccupied, Jen would have to remain cooped up with Ethan. Shit!

Maybe not. The boy was sound asleep and the senator would be too busy to notice if she slipped out for a couple hours. Well, she hoped he wouldn't notice. Leaving Ethan unattended were grounds for dismissal. But she'd simply have to take that risk.

Outside of the gate and a few feet away, Rome waited for her in his truck.

“Hi.” Jen climbed inside, and then strapped the seatbelt in place. Dressed in jeans with a washed-out denim jacket covering a T-shirt, Rome was hot—maybe hotter out of his policeman's uniform. But Jen didn't allow herself to think about the high-voltage sex appeal he radiated.

“Glad you could get out. Do you have a curfew?”

“Yeah, I snuck out, so I have to be back in an hour or two.”

Rome looked incredulous. “You left the little boy home alone?”

“No. His dad is there, but he was occupied and I didn't tell him I was leaving.” She made a face and gave a helpless shrug. “I'm a wreck. This thing with the ghost lady is taking a toll. Right now, talking to you is more important than peeking in on a sleeping child. He usually sleeps through the night. He'll be all right.”

“This is wild.”

“What? Ghost lady?”

“Yeah, that and the fact that you're the nanny to the first African-American female VP candidate.”

“Yeah, well…things aren't always as they appear.”

He scowled. Jen waved her hand. “Forget I said that. I'm not myself. I'm sure you understand.”

“I haven't been thinking straight either. So, where would you like to go?”

Jen shrugged her shoulders. “Doesn't matter. Anywhere outside of Chestnut Hill.”

“I know a spot you might like. Quiet. Good food, nice atmosphere. It's in Mount Airy—not too far from here.”

Jen thought about it for a few seconds. “I'm not hungry and I don't think I'd enjoy being around people tonight.”

Rome nodded in understanding. “We can go back to my place, if you're comfortable with that. I live in Germantown.”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Lost in their thoughts, Jen and Rome were both quiet for the first five minutes of the ride. Curiosity got the best of Jen. “You said you've been seeing spirits since childhood?”

“Yeah, my whole life…for as long as I can remember.”

“When you were little…uh…how could you tell the difference between a spirit and a living person?”

“Spirits don't seem to have the same substance as humans. I can't see through them or anything, but they're sort of translucent. And they move differently than we do.”

“What do you mean?”

“At a different frequency. It's hard to explain, but I always knew the difference between the living and the dead.”

“Were they friendly?” Jen asked, hopeful.

“Not exactly. No, I wouldn't say they were friendly. But definitely non-threatening. I would have sensed malevolence. Like I said, the spirits I've seen always appear to be startled by my presence.”

“But the lady on the bridge is different, right? More human in substance.”

“Right. She's a whole different species of ghost. And the nudist aspect…” Rome shook his head. “That really has me thrown off. Normal spooks dress in the clothes from their era.”

Jen nodded. “And those freaky blue eyes. Have you ever encountered spirits that shoot off beams of light from their eyes?”

“Nah, never.” He looked mystified.

“That naked lady is one ornery ghost. I freaked out after she aimed blue light at the center of my chest—targeting me like I was prey.”

“Now that I know the entire story, you rolling around in the mud makes a lot of sense.”

She punched him in the arm. “Hey, I fell in the mud. I didn't roll around in it.”

“Just playing with you, trying to lighten up the mood.” He turned up the volume of the music that was playing from the radio. “You like rap?”

“Yeah!” she answered. “Who doesn't?”

“I thought you might be into country or some cornfield music that doesn't get airtime in Philly.” Rome laughed. Jen joined in. Their laughter rang out as he drove along Wissahickon Drive. He made a sudden left and drove up a gravelly road called Hermit's Lane. Rome parked in front of a quaint cottage home that was off the main road and hidden from view.

“Charming.” Jen gazed questioningly at Rome and then at the white stucco front cottage.

“It's not a very masculine-looking home. My grandma lived here. She passed away recently—”

“Sorry for your loss.” Jen didn't know what else to say.

“Thanks. She left me her house and though it doesn't reflect
my taste, I can't bring myself to sell it. Not yet.” He unlocked the door. It had a very homey feeling inside. A plump, comfy sofa decorated with lace-trimmed pillows, frilly curtains, and floral paintings on the walls. It reminded Jen of home in Centerville. There were dozens of framed pictures of family members…most of the photos chronicled the stages of a cute little boy, starting with infancy and all the way to adulthood, smiling broadly, sitting inside a police cruiser.

“That you?” Jen pointed to a picture of a crying child sitting on Santa's lap.

“Yeah, they're all me.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Grandma's favorite, huh?” Jen teased.

“You could say that. I'm the only child of an only child. My mom…” He blinked, his eyes turned sad, and shot downward. “We'll discuss my mom some other time.” Taking a deep breath, he regrouped and looked up. “Haven't had time to redecorate. I've only been here a couple of months,” he explained.

She wanted to ask if his grandma's spirit wandered about, and if so, did his grandma act surprised to see him occupying her house? But Jen didn't ask; she figured that type of questioning would be insensitive and in poor taste. The pain of his loss was apparent in his brown eyes. And there was something about his mom that added to the sorrow.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Rome asked.

Jen nodded. “Yeah, I could use one.”

“I don't have any wine, no Alize, or anything sweet.” He chuckled. “Sorry, all I have is a bottle of Jack Daniels.”

Jen smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

I
nside Rome's grandma's small kitchen, Jen and Rome did shots to take the edge off. Drinking hard liquor, straight with no chaser, seemed a bit irreverent considering the folksiness of the kitchen with its ruffled gingham curtains, a “Home Sweet Home” plaque on the wall, old-fashioned appliances. There was even a ceramic cookie jar with the word, “cookies” spelled out invitingly. In a kitchen like this, one would expect the aroma of homemade bread, banana muffins, or an apple pie baking in the oven instead of the harsh smell of Jack Daniels that permeated the air.

“It's so hard to believe that we both witnessed the same blue-eyed, naked ghost.” Rome threw down another shot.

“Want to hear something even weirder that that?”

Rome raised his brows.

“I saw her on the computer before I saw her outside.”