“You didn’t know? You didn’t know what?” Urgency rattled his voice.
Pausing, she pointed toward the house. “She said...” Isabelle began to sob. “She said I’m married!” Her tears broke free. “My husband is a flyer like you. He’s overseas right now, on clean-up duty.” Izzy sank to the bungalow’s wooden stoop and cried.
He should walk away. But he surprised himself, drawing her into the arms. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
He lulled himself into a false sense of security, but he knew it was a lie. If Isabelle was married, nothing would ever be okay again.
CHAPTER 11
JEANNIE’S PURPOSE, as all soul snatchers, was collecting souls for her master. Finally, her hard work had begun to pay off. She’d been getting choice, high profile assignments lately. This one, Satan had said, was a special case. He wanted the mystic’s soul in the worst way. And Jeannie aimed to deliver the ghost-busting idealist on a platter.
Leading Izzy up the front steps of the boarding house, she marveled at the ease of this mission. The girl had cried the entire way home and Jeannie would have found it annoying had it not been for the ramifications. The distraction was going to make Jeannie’s job that much easier.
She followed Izzy up the stairs to their small apartment, encouraged by the latest turn of events. She’d heard of instances such as this, but she’d never seen it personally. The ghost whisperer had no clue that she’d traveled through time. Given that development, infiltrating the timeline as her sister was clever. Jeannie was sure that the big man downstairs would be pleased.
Jeannie’s target didn’t know where she’d come from, much less why she was there. Add that to the latest distraction—a husband that didn’t really exist—and Jeannie’s job was almost too easy.
The laws of the Other World forbade her from physically taking a soul. She could not kill to get the spirit. If the target died prior to the turning point—the incident or event that determined the outcome—the soul snatcher ran the risk of being banished into another dimension.
That hazard scared away most prospective entities, but not Jeannie. Instead of worrying about what she couldn’t do, she chose to use the elements given to her and honed her influential powers of persuasion.
Typically, it took her a few days to convince her target and claim their soul. This one though, she sensed had protection. That made sense. Why else would Satan desire her soul so badly?
Claiming Izzy Miller’s soul might not be as easy as her other assignments, but Jeannie had a few tricks up her sleeve. The husband angle, one of her first dishonest tactics, was brilliant. One she was sure Satan himself would be proud of.
CHAPTER 12
JACK STRODE along the sidewalk that would eventually lead to Hangar 21 and his plane “Beautiful Betsy”. He needed to walk Isabelle Miller off. If that didn’t do the trick perhaps “she”—the plane—would.
Isabelle was off limits now. He told himself what they’d done wasn’t wrong because neither of them knew she was married. His self-assurance didn’t help much. He’d fallen in love with a woman he couldn’t have. A woman he still wanted.
He had to fix that. He knew he’d never be able to get her out of his heart, but he could force her out of his head. And he’d start by staying away from the Cool Cat.
Yes! A fine idea. That was the one place he was bound to run into her, so now it too was off limits. If she was out of sight, eventually she’d end up out of mind.
He entered the hangar with a spring in his step, encouraged that his plan was going to work. It had to.
“Hey, Baker.” Squadron mate, Jim Perkins, greeted him with a devilish grin spreading across his face. “What you got going on tonight? You seeing that dish again?”
“Nah...” Jack shook his head as if Isabelle were a trivial matter. “That didn’t work out, see.” He withdrew one hand from his trousers’ pocket and laid it against the plane’s cool steel. “Beautiful Betsy” was the only thing that stood a chance of taking his mind off Isabelle.
“So, you up for a little fun?” Perkins asked. “A bunch of us are going to Aunt Flo’s tonight.”
The urge to laugh overcame Jack. Clearly, Perk thought Aunt Flo’s—the local house of ill repute—was the place to be.
“Hm...I think I’ll pass.” Jack backed away before Perkins insisted that he go. He scaled the side of the P-51 Mustang and dropped into the cockpit with ease. Settling into his seat, Jack reached for the towel he’d stuffed down on the side and began swabbing the instrument panel. It was a therapeutic tactic, one that had worked well in the past. He hoped it wouldn’t let him down now.
A little fun tonight wasn’t a bad idea, but not at Aunt Flo’s. Maybe he’d cruise over to Charlie’s, a little tavern on the other side of town from the Cool Cat. He had to be as far away from that place as possible. After a beer or two, he might be tempted to wander in.
Jack would fight this thing, and he intended to win. Might be the hardest thing he’d ever do, but his choices were limited.
Even so, he struggled with the urge to select an option that was unavailable to him. How could he stop himself from wanting a woman he couldn’t have?
Simple. He couldn’t. He couldn’t help who he loved, but he was in complete control of how he reacted to those feelings. He would find a way to bury them, somehow. Even if he had to resort to drastic measures.
S
unlight peeked through the sheer curtains, waking Izzy. She wanted to find a hole, crawl inside and die—except she didn’t have the desire to get out of bed.
Jack avoiding the Cool Cat last night was a devastating wakeup call. It hadn’t taken much for her to decide she was going to divorce her husband so she could be with Jack. But he obviously had other ideas. Ideas that included avoiding her, hence his decision to stay away from the Cool Cat.
“When are you going to get out of that bed?” Jeannie’s voice invaded her thoughts.
“About an hour before I have to go to work,” she said, her voice lacking interest.
“Get up.” Jeannie yanked the covers back, exposing Izzy dressed in a man’s tee shirt.
Izzy rolled over, turning her back, making no move to leave the bed. “I thought he cared. I thought I meant something to him.” Izzy’s words dripped with self-criticism.
Jeannie sat on the edge of the bed and laid a gentle hand on Izzy’s shoulder. “I’m sure you do. But Jack is trying to do the right thing. That’s probably why he’s staying away.”
“But I love him.” Izzy floundered in agony, tears flowing freely.
Jeannie tugged at her, coaxing her to turn over. “And you’re married.”
“To a man I can’t remember.” Izzy turned back toward the wall and dragged the bedcovers over her head.
“It is what it is.”
“But it doesn’t have to be.” She argued her point from beneath the covers. “I can get a divorce.”
“Are you willing to do that to Jack?” Her judgmental tone rattled Izzy, even from behind.
“Do what?” She rolled over, facing Jeannie finally.
“Best case scenario...he’ll get kicked out of the Army. Worst case...he’ll go to prison.” Jeannie paused, glaring at her. “Home wrecking is a big deal in the Army.”
Izzy’s lips sealed shut in disbelief. Studying Jeannie through narrowed eyes, she pondered the validity of her accusation. “That’s not true,” Izzy said, shaking her head.
“I’m afraid it is.” Jeannie’s voice softened and a sorrowful smile covered her face. “Look, I know you didn’t set out to do something wrong. Your loss of memory is a cruel game that fate’s playing on you. But now that you know...you have to do the right thing. You have to forget about Jack.” She paused, breaking into a helpful, friendly smile. “We’ll just forget this ever happened. There’s no need to tell Harry.”
Izzy didn’t try to hide her skepticism or distaste for Jeannie’s insinuation. She let it all hang out in her single-word response. “Harry?”
“Your husband.” Jeannie’s exasperation suggested that her patience was wearing thin. She glanced at the clock on the side table, reached for her purse and stood. “I have to go.” Jeannie smoothed her skirt and took a couple of steps toward the door. Glancing over her shoulder, a thoughtful look crossed her face. “Why don’t you meet me at Woolworth’s for lunch?” She let her purse dangle at her side and sauntered the rest of the way to the door.
“All right.” Izzy gave in with a twinge of disappointment even though she’d lost the urge to fight long ago. Accepting defeat, she let it wash over her, but fear of the unknown scared it away. “Wait—” The urgency in her tone stopped Jeannie at the door. “Where is Woolworth’s?”
Without a word, Jeannie crossed the room and paused at the small table in the corner. She grabbed a pencil and pad and scribbled something on it. “Here you go.” When she was done, she let the pencil fall from her fingertips and it rolled across the table. She hurried toward the door and slipped out into the hallway, leaving for work.
Izzy, on the other hand, sank back down in the bed and tugged the blankets up over her head, as if that’d cover up her woes. Too bad she couldn’t cover up a husband.
And who forgets a husband anyway? A big fat loser, that’s who. How was she ever going to live with herself? With a man who wasn’t Jack?
I
zzy opted for a booth at the back of Woolworth’s eatery to avoid the other patrons and their ogling stares when they entered the restaurant.
What she wouldn’t give for a decent pair of sunglasses to hide her red and swollen eyes. Maybe after lunch she could find some. If not here then maybe somewhere else. She’d ask Jeannie when she arrived. Surely she’d know where to find sunglasses.
She grabbed a menu off the stand and scanned it. A figure, more like a silhouette, entered her peripheral vision but she didn’t look up right away. She thought it was the waitress. “Can I get an iced tea with lemon?” she asked, hesitating a moment before glancing up.
Jack loomed over her and flashed a sad sort of smile while trying to hold her gaze.
She looked him over with a magnifying glance, seeing the aviator sunglasses hanging from his shirt pocket. The glasses teased her, and she wanted to ask if she could have them, but she didn’t want to confess it was to hide the tears she’d been shedding—over him. If he could toss her aside so easily, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that she was bothered by the sudden, abrupt end of their fledgling relationship.
“Hi, Jack.” Propping one elbow on the table, she rested her chin in the palm of her hand and tapped her tangerine fingernails of the other hand on the Formica tabletop, hoping to appear aloof and unaffected.
“Isabelle, are you okay?” he asked, sliding into the seat opposite her.
“Be my guest.” She reached across, snapped the sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on, feeling better once she’d covered her eyes. “How’s it going?”
“I’m worried about you.” He propped his forearms on the table and leaned slightly toward her.
“Yeah, I saw that last night when you showed up at the Cool Cat to check on me.” She hoped he found her words as chilled as she’d meant them.
“I’m sorry.” His apology fell on deaf ears and he glanced away. “I’m having a hard time with the idea that you’re someone else’s wife, see.” Finally he looked back at her, his dark eyes smoldering with regret.
“You and me both.” She paused, scanned the restaurant and set her sights back on him. “Tell me something...can you really get into trouble for consorting with a married woman?” She’d give anything for that to be a lie.
“Yes, Isabelle, I can,” he said, softly, calmly, regrettably.
“You could get kicked out of the Army?” she asked, and he nodded. “Prison?” She struggled to spit out the word.
“It’s possible. Especially since he’s overseas, tending to the needs of the good ole’ U.S. of A.” His lips twisted into a cynical smile. He fidgeted and careened against the back of the booth.
“I know what flying means to you.” She choked back the hurt that came with that statement because it meant they could never be together. “I’ll always love you, but I won’t ask you to risk your career or your life for me. I won’t let you do that.”
She looked away but spied Jack in her peripheral vision. His hand reached across the table, inching toward her. She withdrew her arm quickly, careful not to let him touch her.
She snuck a peek and saw the hurt and longing laying naked in his eyes. He was probably contemplating that very thing. He’d never be able to live with himself if he broke the Army’s Golden Rule—stealing another man’s wife.
“I’d give it up in a minute...if you asked me to.”
“I don’t want you to have to sacrifice flying for me.” She hated that thought.
“Sacrificing one love for the other, isn’t that what I’m doing regardless?”
“Well, I’d rather you hate flying than me, later on down the line.” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a whimper.
Jack chuckled.
“We’ll always have Paris, huh?” she supposed with an inferior shrug and a nervous giggle.
“Paris?”
“Casablanca.”
“Oh, right. A Bogart film.” He paused, and once again, she felt like they’d done this before. He laid an arm across the edge of the table and fiddled with the napkin. “I didn’t see it. I heard it was sappy.”
“Sappy? Are you kidding me?” She pounded her fists on the table and leaned toward him. “That’s one of the greatest films ever made.”
Jack laughed.
She felt pretty stupid. “You’re joking, right?”
“Yes, I am.” His stare nearly burned through the sunglasses still covering her eyes. “It was a superb film. One I suppose you’re going to designate as a
classic
.”
Their laughter filled the air and eased the tension, until someone else cleared their throat. Immediately, even before she glanced up, Izzy knew it was Jeannie.
Izzy cursed the luck of the draw, knowing when she looked up she was going to find her incredibly perturbed sister standing over her—ready to pounce.
“Hey, Jeannie.” She pursed her mouth into a narrowed, tight-lipped smile.
“Izzy—” Jeannie scolded her.
“Have no fear.” Jack threw his hands up in surrender and scooted out of the booth. “I just wanted to make sure Isabelle is okay, see.” He gestured toward the empty seat, inviting Jeannie to sit.
She eased down onto the edge of the seat and peered back and forth between Izzy and Jack. “Look, I can appreciate the difficulty of this situation...but for the good of everyone, you two should probably stay away from each other.”
“Probably.” Jack hesitated, his attention caught up in Izzy. “If there’s anything that I can ever do for you—” He turned to Jeannie. “Even if it’s staying away—” He paused before looking back at Izzy and a gentle smile curled on his lips. “All you have to do is ask.” He nodded slightly, swiveled and strolled away.
Izzy watched him go, probably a little longer than she should have before she turned to Jeannie. “Why do you have to be so mean?”
“Izzy, why do you have such little regard for this man’s livelihood or your husband’s feelings?” she asked, in a chastising tone that Izzy found annoying.
“I think we were saying goodbye.” Izzy paused, somehow she felt better knowing he cared.
“You’d better make sure it doesn’t keep on happening,” Jeannie continued to scold her. In fact, she seemed to like it. “Your frivolous, carefree attitude could destroy more than one life.”
Okay, okay
. She got the point. “Geez, is being such a bitch really necessary?” Izzy hated that she was right. She despised the smug attitude accompanying her righteousness too.
“If that’s what it takes to keep you from making a huge mistake.” Jeannie stopped and stared at her. “Why are you wearing those glasses?”
“Because I don’t like people looking at my eyes.”
“Izzy, tell me you’re going to stay away from him?” Funny, the insistence that fueled Jeannie’s tone just a few seconds ago almost sounded like begging now.
“I’m trying, okay.” Izzy paused, avoiding eye contact. “That’s the best I can do.”
Izzy didn’t plan on ruining Jack’s life. Not today, anyway. Now tomorrow, that was a different story. She couldn’t swear she wouldn’t go running back to him tomorrow. She’d try to stay away. That’s all she could promise today. She’d try.