Resurrecting Harry (16 page)

Bess flipped her attention to her purse and the canvas bag carrying her groceries. “I’m sure that is none of my business.”

“Can I give you some advice?”

Bess met her gaze.

“I know you don’t think so now, but someday, God willing, new love will find you. You’re just too kind of a soul to have to live out your days in mourning. When that happens, I implore you to find a balance between your memories and the here and now. If I hadn’t been so head-over-heels with my dear Martin I would have given him more time to live in his grief, but it’s hard to deny the heart its desire.”

Had that time come? Bess wondered if she could embrace a future with Erich and not let Harry’s memories live between them. The way her heart broke whenever she considered the question made her doubt she was ready. She stepped closer to Gail and offered her friend another quick hug. “Thank you for your advice. It’s hard to imagine anyone else in my life, but if that day comes, I will remember what you said.”

Gail tightened her embrace. “Thank you, Bess.  I will see you for lunch the day after tomorrow.”

When Jaden didn’t invade his dreams with new messages or warnings, he was faced with an endless stream of obstacles between him and Bess to overcome. The longing to return to her side never faded, and peace never settled in. Knowing she was out somewhere alone was worse than being separated by death. Erich gripped the back of the couch and pulled himself up, calling out to Bess.

Her sweet voice didn’t answer his call, so he stood and peered out the window. The sun shone high in the sky and signaled the passing hours — too many for a few quick errands.

Walking out onto the back porch, he lifted his hand to keep the crisp breeze from pushing his hair into his face. Under the large California Live Oak tree, he found her. She’d moved the wrought iron table and its two chairs from the deck. There, she’d laid out a red checkered table cloth and was arranging plates and drinks. Her attention to detail gave him hope. She was looking forward to this meal too. “Let me help you.”

His voice caught her attention, and she started across the yard. “I have everything ready and was just going to come get you. Do you think you can make it?”

“Not quickly, but yes.” He started down the single step and his balance wavered. “Bess...Can I trouble you for your arm, to steady myself.”  He prepared himself for her outrage and a lecture reminding him of his proper place, but instead she offered it. Erich fought the urge to reach across his body with his right arm and stroke her forearm as they walked. This moment — so close he could smell her perfume and feel the heat her body radiated — should be enough to ease the fear that haunted his dreams, but a sense of doom twisted his gut, and her touch increased his thirst for her.

“It’s so windy. I’m not sure if this is such a good idea, but you said you were getting cooped up.”

“It’s just what I need. The breeze feels nice after the Santa Ana’s a few days ago.”

As they cleared the side of the house, Bess glanced toward the front yard. They were now visible to the neighbors across the street, and she slipped her arm from his hand. “Last thing we need to do is give Miss Busybody sitting on her front porch over there a reason to gossip.”

Erich chuckled. Every neighborhood seemed to have someone like the silver haired woman. It just so happened this one lived directly across the street. Distant, grainy memories flashed though his mind: images of the woman bending Harry’s ear on the subject of this neighbor or that sandwiched between pictures of her grilling him about the latest contraption he’d brought home. Yes, Miss Busybody — Harry’s nickname for her — without a doubt had noticed Erich’s presence in the widow Houdini’s house, and she had probably burned up the phone lines spreading the news.

Lowering himself to the chair, he took in the spread. Simple but magnificent. Any length of time spent in her presence would be. Cheese sandwiches and some cucumber slices arranged with care on small plates and the scent of fresh squeezed lemons rose up from the pitcher.  “I hate being so much trouble.”

Her laugh floated on the breeze, joining the choir of Rock Wrens serenading them. “Nonsense, it was my pleasure.”

He had no reason to doubt her claim. From her eased posture to the almost lyrical tone of her voice, she was the picture of serenity.  He flashed her a flirty smile anyway. “I doubt that.”

“No. Really. I couldn’t tell you the last time I ate outside. It was one of the things Harry and I both loved. That’s why I enjoy living here: the weather is often perfect for a picnic lunch.”

“Nothing like back east. Instead of a refreshing breeze, the promise of snow would be in the whistling wind, eh?”

Her fork hit the table with a rattle, and she tilted her head toward him. “You lived out east?”

Had
he
? No. But the lingering memories of a past life revealed themselves. He couldn’t filter them now, but he could twist them. “Yes, as a child, New York City.”

“Hmph. Another similarity. It’s like our lives have run parallel to each other’s.” She shook her head at the perceived coincidence, but accepted it without question. The wind picked up and moved her large curls, begging him to reach out and tangle his fingers in them, but she’d push away the advance as she had every other one. Except for that one kiss.

Erich took a bite of his sandwich, grateful to have something to focus on other than the pulsing need to touch her. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the breeze against his cheek, but it didn’t cool the heat burning between them. Fluttering open, his eyes focused in on a large, blue tarp toward the back of the shed and the item he knew must be underneath.

How they loved that automobile!

Harry had never taught Bess to drive. It made sense that she kept it out of sight, but he should have noticed it before now. Another nudge from Jaden? Grateful for the help, he asked, “What’s under the tarp?”

The light in her eyes dimmed as she dropped her gaze to the plate. Seconds later, a wistful smile replaced the sadness. “Harry’s automobile. I hate that it’s rusting away, but I haven’t found the strength to sell it.”

“Why don’t you use it?”

She dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “I never learned to drive.”

Instead of relying on the memories Harry had created with Bess, Erich realized he could use the car to create their own experiences. Those moments might help strengthen the tenuous bond developing between them. His knee bounced up and down, expelling the built up excitement. “I could teach you.”

“That’s not a good idea.” It was more than her words, her hands crossed in front of her, punctuating her dismissal.

Bess was the most capable person he’d ever known. If she had a want or a need, she always found a way to make it happen. The last eleven months proved her will to survive. So, why was she hesitating? “I’d be happy to teach you.”

She took the napkin from her lap, tangling it with her fingers. “It’s hard to explain. Life goes on, I know. And there is so much I was forced to handle on my own, but there are some things I cannot bear to change. Some memories are too precious to alter. A long drive on a Sunday afternoon is something I should only share with Harry.”

“Do you think learning to drive will change your past? The memories never have to leave your heart.”

She tipped her head as if she could hear an answer in the wind. “Time steals so much. It’s already getting harder to remember the sound of his voice or how his fingers felt brushing my chin.” She shook her head as if she could shake off the loneliness. “We shouldn’t ruin our picnic with my melancholy reminiscences.”

“I don’t mind listening if you need someone to talk to.” Maybe a good catharsis would unearth every twisted emotion she’d buried in the last eleven months.

“How boring! You don’t want to listen to an old woman’s woes.” She returned her focus to her plate, reaching for her fork.

Bottling up emotion was a typical defense for Bess. He knew it would take an atypical offense to cross that wall. “I wish you’d quit calling yourself an old woman, it’s not how I see you. And I enjoy hearing your stories, even if it seems like your past was so sad.”

“There were more good times than bad, but I’m a realist. Another lesson Harry taught me. I don’t look at the past through rose colored glasses. It was an amazing adventure to live through, but we didn’t plan for the future. We always thought there would be another tomorrow to retire and enjoy everything we worked so hard to achieve. For me, it came last October, only he’s not here to share it.”

“And that makes you angry?”

“Sometimes. Mostly, it’s just sad. I long for lazy picnic lunches where the conversation doesn’t drift to the next show or a new piece of the act. I fantasize we’re enjoying a cool autumn breeze or taking a drive up the coast without his head being wrapped around his next escape.”

Bess’s desires shredded his heart. Were her memories of the past accurate? Had he lived his life so focused on the act that he didn’t take enough moments to appreciate the way the sun reflected off her hair or to soothe her concerns?

No matter how many times she said it, he’d never accept this view as fact. She’d been the only thing that mattered in Harry’s life, and it devastated him to learn she hadn’t a clue. “You wish he were here to spend this time with you, but you don’t have to stay alone to honor your past with Harry.”

She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and shook her head as if he’d spoken the most preposterous words imaginable. “You sound like Martin. He tells me the pain will pass and that love will blossom again in the most unlikely places.”

Imagine that! He and Martin on the same side of an argument? At this rate, the next miracle would be ice-skating in Hell. “I should tell you he stopped by while you were in town.”

“Oh really? Did he say why?”

“He said it was to check up on you, but I think his real intention was to get rid of me.”

“Why would you say that?”

Could he tell her the truth that he’d thrown the first jab in the verbal shoving match? It didn’t matter. The story ended the same way no matter who started it. “He ordered me out of your house and your life.”

Her eyes darkened and her forehead creased. “I know Martin has grown protective of me, but to go that far?”

Erich’s toe tapped under the table as Bess’s defense of Martin twisted a knife in Harry’s stomach. The ghost jumped up to battle. “Why would I lie?”

“That’s not what I meant. Martin can be abrasive. He says things without thinking. What you perceived as aggression, I’m sure he only meant in a protective way.”

“Or to guard Gail’s seat at the séance table.” The words slipped through his mouth with such a sharp edge, he expected to taste blood on his lips.

The single crease in her forehead deepened. She stood and began collecting the plates. “I have no reason to question Martin’s intentions, but I can’t say the same for you. What, with the way you seem so fixated on the séance, Harry’s life, and all of his belongings. Is that why you kissed me? To possess something of Harry’s?”

“Bess, sit down. I made it perfectly clear what I’m interested in.” Throwing the attraction down on the table as if it were a winning poker hand was probably not the best idea he’d ever had, but damn, what choice had she left him? Spinning their conversation and making him out to be the bad guy, when it was Martin who was up to no good was enough cause to kick good-reason out the door.

She dropped the plates back on the table, and the plastic bounced around against the covered wrought iron. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “A mistake. An improper advance is what it was. I don’t want to hear another word on the subject.”

“The lady protests too much,” he said.

She stepped back. Erich knew he might as well be backing a tiger into a corner; Bess would react the same.

He gripped the edge of the table and pulled himself to his feet, better to have this conversation eye-to-eye. “Look, I’m sorry if I offended you last night, but I’m not going to pretend it was a misguided action. I wanted to kiss you, Bess. I have since the first moment we met. You can stand there and tell me you don’t feel the same, but we both know that’s a lie. Don’t we?”

“I shouldn’t feel—”

“But you do.”

“It’s wrong!”

“I don’t believe that.”

Her silent stare bore through him. Her lower lip quivered. Erich knew his words had touched something in her, just as he was sure his kiss had done the same. After a moment, she picked the plates back up. “I’m going to clean up.”

Watching her walk away again was something he refused to let happen. “Bess!” He called out to her. She ignored him, so he traced her steps and grabbed her arm. “What are you running from?”

“Don’t you see? I’m not running away, I’m facing my destiny. I can’t forget the vows I made.”

“Your wedding vows were absolved with your husband’s death.”