The Vicarage Bench Anthology (27 page)

“What the hell…?”

“Dig this, Joey—I’m stronger than you are. If I really tried, I could make you do what I want. You’d better stop being such a jerk to me, or I could take over, and where would that leave you, smartass?”

“I’d commit myself first, Arnie, so don’t threaten me. Don’t ever threaten me again.”

“You’re right, Joey. I’m an ingrate. My mom used to call me that all the time, just before she’d take out the whip. I never did learn not to push buttons. Don’t be mad at me. I’m just worried and talking stupid. You know, being with you, sharing your body, lets me see for the first time in my life how everyone acts with a guy who’s good-looking. Younger chicks flirt, and even the older broads smile. No one gets scared when they see us coming. I get a real kick outta that.”

Joey sensed the honesty in Arnie’s words and couldn’t help feeling sad for the man who’d lived all his life in such despair. His own early years held great memories of a neighborhood full of characters, all pals of his.

Joey didn’t want to soften his stance, but listening to words was one thing, and having intimate knowledge of the feelings that those words evoked was totally another. Arnie had lived a cheerless, brutal life. Joey melted—he couldn’t help it. His psycho roommate sensed it and played on it for all it was worth.

“My ole man didn’t much like me, and my ole lady—she hated me. You know what that’s like? I never looked good, it’s true, but there’s an old saying, you have a face only a mother could love? Well my face never did a thing for her except make her mad. But at least I never scared kids. Now they run screaming. You get how that feels?”

“I do now, Arnie, and stop blubbering. I can’t see.”

“Let’s go look in the mirror.”

“No! Not again.”

“Do it! Or you’ll be sorry!”

“Aw, Arnie, I’m fed up with looking at my face, and seeing you leering from my eyes. And quit being so pushy.”

“Sorry. Don’tcha wish I could stay here with you forever?”

“God forbid!”

“I like looking at our face.”

“Yeah? I’m glad you’re getting a kick outta it. Just stop telling me to go to every mirror we pass. I’m sick and tired of combing my hair all the time.”

“Okay, Joey.

Chapter Fourteen

True to his word, Ashley arrived at the hospital the next morning, waving a release form signed by Dr. Andrews with instructions to pick up Crystal’s body. While he helped the nurse on duty to get her ready for the wheelchair, his hands teasingly took liberties.

“Shame on you. Stop feeling me up, or the nurse will see you.”

“I told her you were my wife, remember. And I’m not feeling you up, as you so indelicately put it. I’m dressing you, and honey, it isn’t easy putting clothes on a flopping doll. I can’t help it if my hands slip now and again.”

“Did your mouth slip, too? You’ve been kissing me in some pretty improper places.”

“You’re just in a snit because you can’t feel anything, but don’t let it bother you. I promise, when we get home I’ll re-kiss all those improper places until you beg me to stop.”

“Then you’d better have Chapstick. I can’t wait to be in your arms again, and to have your mouth on my body.”

A rush of passion streamed through his system, which made him double over. Urges of lust and visions of satisfaction had him closing his eyes.

“You’d better stop that trash talk or the nurse will have a graphic indication of where my thoughts are right this minute.” He pulled at his sweater, bringing it over his hips, while he leaned over her and fiddled with nothing.

“Hurry, love. I want to get back into myself and find some privacy. Quit dawdling.”

The nurse, who’d been eyeballing this handsome man, dredged through her mind for an interesting topic of conversation.

“Mr. Parks, are you aware your wife’s symptoms stymied all the local specialists? It’s become the talk of the hospital, and especially now that we’ve had a second comparable case.”

Ash stopped dead and swiftly turned to the woman in white. “You have another patient with similar problems to Crystal’s?”

Supposing his interest in this news to be on behalf of the woman now resting in the wheelchair, she gently explained. “Yes! A man who suffered the same symptoms as your wife arrived a couple of days ago. They weren’t able to help him, either. Now it’s too late. We lost him yesterday.”

“Lost him. You mean he died? From being in a coma?” Ash’s head swung towards the woman as his voice rose, and she had his full attention.

“No, from a heart attack. Poor man. His face appeared to have been battered recently. He suffered from poor general health, untreated diabetes, and the autopsy showed his lungs were weakened and black from excessive smoking. He was an American, also. We were planning on calling in Dr. Andrews to consult on the case, but it became apparent rather quickly that he wouldn’t be much use.”

Shock blasted Ash, but Crystal’s reaction to this news shot way past normal. She shut down. Her simmering anger warned of a pending eruption.

Coward or not, Ash said nothing, keeping his thoughts locked away. He waited, and finally she broke an hour later, while they were on the bench preparing to reverse the spell.

“Wait! Ashley Parks, you need to answer my question before we go any further. When you agreed to let me free, did you realize Arnie had already died?”

“No. I did not.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

He’d blocked all his emotions behind a solid wall while at the hospital, and so far he hadn’t let her in. He’d known she wanted the inside scoop, so to speak, the truth without having to ask.

“We promised last night to trust each other.” Sincerity rang in his words.

A few seconds passed before he heard her response, seconds of agony while he yearned for her to believe in him and their love. This was a big test. He clasped his hands as though in prayer, holding them against his lips to stop words from spewing out.

“I’m glad! I had to ask, but I’m so relieved you didn’t know.”

“You accept my word? Just like that?”

“Uh-huh! Of course I do.”

Channels opened and the purest joy bounced back and forth between the two. Heart thundering, he carefully pricked his finger and then hers while hugging her close in trembling arms. He felt faint with anxiety. Remembering the resulting pain when the spell hadn’t worked during an earlier episode between Rhett and Carrie, he pleaded, “Please, God, let it work!” in whispers muttered low.

In the time it took to put the rose back down on the bench next to him, she twitched. Gradually her lax face muscles took on life. Her eyelids were slow to open, but as they did, he stared into her slumberous eyes tinted by slivers of silver. He unashamedly let her see the tears gathered in his.

“Hello, sweetheart.” His voice broke, sounding husky.

“Hi, Ash!” The croak of his name on her lips frayed his restraint as he swept her closer and kissed her like he’d never get enough of her taste.

She almost fainted again, hammered from the fury of his passion. Feebly she pushed at his chest. Her slack lips and lack of breath warned him to control himself, at least for now.

She needed time to gain back her strength. Her head used his shoulder as a pillow, and both hands lay enfolded in his, unmoving. Sitting snuggled, enjoying the luxury of being physically together, removed any lingering doubts that the desire flowing between them was artificial or brought about because of their spirit’s recent proximity. Eventually, she sighed and moved to sit up.

“No, don’t move.” He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the waiting car. Recovering the wheelchair and placing it in the boot took only seconds, and a few minutes later they were at the doctor’s house.

With ease, he delivered her into their room and lowered her onto the bed next to a present enclosed in pink tissue paper and a silver bow. A special something he’d picked out for her. He stood patiently while she oohed and ahhed over her spanking new bat.

“How did you get it without me catching on?”

“I wrote a note to the doctor and asked him to pick it up for me.”

“It’s perfect. I love it—and you.” Smiles fought with tears, but the tears won.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry. I wanted to make you laugh.” The change in Ashley’s demeanor from jovial to remorseful was as swift as a camera’s flash.

“You silly man. I’m weepy because you really do understand me. I never thought I could be this fortunate. Come here and let me show you just how happy I am.” She scrubbed at the tears dripping from her plush lashes. Her large smoky eyes drew him to her, inviting, enticing—knowing.

“No! I can’t!” His hands were actually clasped behind his back. “You brat. Stop tempting me. You need to rest. I’ll go and tell Dr. Andrews everything went as expected. He wanted to be advised as soon as we arrived. I think he’s smitten, like all the other men in your life.”

“Except for poor Arnie?”

“Yeah, well, he’s not our worry anymore. Life can get back to normal now. Sleep! I’ll come back to sit with you.” He carefully threw a comforter over her but hesitated before tucking it close.

She grinned and winked.

“Little witch!”

As soon as he opened the door her brown-and-white mongrel pet shot through. Whining and wiggling, he sniffed at the girl while she cooed over him. He leapt up and settled on the quilt as close to her as he could manage. Her personal bodyguard’s bloodshot eyes lovingly surveyed her and seemed satisfied.

Chapter Fifteen

Tension vibrated throughout Ash’s body as Crystal wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to pull him on top of her.

“Why are you being so stubborn? I want to feel your body over mine.” She’d coaxed him close with her wiggling finger, insisting he lean over, and had caught him neatly in her diabolical trap. A tigress in heat chagrined by his gentleman’s principles.

“Crystal, my love. Stop! You’re not recovered yet. You’re weak. We should wait until you’re fit.” He groaned the last few words with his forehead against hers. “You know I’m a puddle when it comes to you. You’ll have your way with me if you push, but I need to be sensible. You have to help me be strong.”

“Help you? You ninny. I’m trying to seduce you here. I don’t want you to be strong. I want you to undress me, kiss me everywhere your lips can reach, and take as long as you wish. Then I want you to put your…”

He quit fighting and lowered his aching body gently next to her. “I’m beginning to get the picture. Tell me more.”

She whispered her fantasies while he tried hard to re-enact them, kiss by kiss, touch by touch. His mouth latched onto her breast through her white eyelet cotton nightie, and his hot, damp breath accelerated her heartbeats.

“I love you, Ashley Parks. I love your hands. I love your mouth, and your body.” She smiled adoringly. “But now that I know you, shall we say, inside out…” They both chuckled. “I especially love your heart.”

He looked deeply into her eyes, lingering, searching, until a pained expression covered his features, and he turned away. He lay on his back with an arm over his face. His voice came out low and hesitant.

“Words are inadequate to express my feelings, sweetheart. Yes, I love you, too, but what I feel is more powerful than mere love. I can’t explain it, really, except to say that if anything ever happened to you, my heart would simply be an organ in my body, full of—of nothing, emptiness. These last few days have made me realize how much you mean to me. It scares me silly to be so vulnerable.”

“You’re probably feeling that way because of what we just went through with Arnie. We can’t let fear… Ash, who could be at the door at this time of night?”

The doorbell’s strident peal rang again. It brought Dr. Andrews hurrying from his library. Ashley slipped from Crystal’s room, closing her in safely with her canine protector. He had to see who could possibly be calling this late. The consistent ringing and thumping indicated a troubled soul on the other side.

Before the doctor’s hand reached the knob, the door flew open. A man lurched in and scanned his surroundings.

“Ash, help me! Stop him! This crazy bugger is demented.” Joey wove around in the foyer, one arm apparently forced up over his head and being held there by his other hand. He spit a cigarette from his lips, then slammed farther into the room, stumbling towards the staircase. Finally, falling to his knees, he clung to the newel post and wrapped both arms around it. He gripped his fingers together, forming an apparent shackle.

“Joey? What the hell is going on? Are you okay?” Possibly a dumb question, considering the man’s actions. A quick glance from Dr. Andrews testified to the fact that he thought it a rather silly query, also.

“No, you idiot. I’m not okay. I’m freakin’ out here, and if you don’t stop me, I’m gonna be shooting you, only it won’t be me, it’ll be Arnie, but he’s me, and there won’t be a damn thing I can do to stop him.”

“You—him? What are you going on about? I don’t get it. Who wants to shoot me?”

Dr. Andrews threw Ash another what-are-you,-dumb? look. The answer was actually pretty clear.

But it was too late. Joey doubled over, shuddered, then sagged. When he stood and straightened, the gun waving around in his hand became visible and menacing. His face had somehow collapsed, and a sneering image took its place.

“Joey doesn’t wanna shoot you, but I do. It’s all I think about. And after I do you in, I’ll be looking to finish off your partner, the ice princess.” The droopy posture and sneering voice identified Arnie clearly. “Thought you’d get away from me, eh? Well, Joker, life has some pretty weird and unexpected twists. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“You don’t have to tell us—we know. You’re dead. Your body’s in the morgue, isn’t that correct?” Dr. Andrew’s professional persona took over as he questioned the malicious, volatile man in front of them. Remembering Ashley’s tale of how the nurse had let the cat out of the bag over Arnie’s demise clued him in as to what must have transpired. The last he’d personally seen of the two men, they were tussling near the rose bush, and he was sure an incident had taken place. The anomaly in front of him just proved that death didn’t stop the spirit’s ability to find a new home.