Resurrecting Harry (9 page)

So, I’m back to being Mister?
Erich searched for any excuse other than the truth. He spun to face her. “I was looking—”

Cool liquid drenched his face and hair, running down and soaking his shirt. His eyes began to burn, and he licked his lips. She’d thrown lemonade in his face.

“What’s in there isn’t for your eyes or pockets. The lock should have been your first clue to that.”

Dear God, what have I done?
She was right. No excuse would pacify her now. He picked a lock to rifle through her things! If he were in her shoes, he’d be just as angry, if not more so. Harry would have tossed him off the property by his shirt collar, and goodness knows she was inclined to do as Harry would.

The weed killer?
That was a legitimate excuse, but a lie just the same. Harry’s possessions felt like his, but she’d think he was certifiably crazy if he said that. He hadn’t meant harm, but lying would be purposeful and hurtful if discovered. Was there any way to make light of the situation? “Thanks for the drink. It would have been more refreshing when I was working in the blazing sun.” He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “What’s not important enough to be kept in the house but so valuable you have to lock it up anyway?”

She set the now empty glass on the work bench and with a firm hand to his shoulder, pushed him aside. After examining the front of the cabinet, she replaced the lock. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Harry’s museum is under construction in Pennsylvania. They’ve already taken possession of the larger props, but asked me to hold on to the smaller items until they are ready to display them.”

His life on display? So,
that’s
why his props and stage clothes weren’t in the house. A sense of pride coursed him. “You trust a feeble padlock that has been compromised hundreds of times to protect—”

“Who says it’s been compromised at all? Maybe it’s brand new.”

Really?
She was going to argue with him on this? Bess didn’t have a clue who she was up against or that he could be just as stubborn and spirited as her. He pushed his way between her and the cabinet, tipping the lock and showing her the scratches on the face. “Even a master escape artist leaves a trail.”

Her eyes narrowed. He had no doubt if it were possible, she’d shoot daggers at him. “Don’t be flip with me, especially about Harry. It doesn’t matter if the lock was brand new or fifty years old, it’s a lock all the same. Why would you think it was proper for you to go nosing around where I clearly didn’t want you? If I can’t trust you to respect me or my property—”

He regretted eroding her trust, but twisted his heel against the dirt floor and held his ground. New body or not, he’d played a game similar to this with Bess more times than he could count. “I’m sorry. Picking the lock was wrong, but I assure you it wasn’t malicious. I wasn’t going to take anything.”

“Like you weren’t going to steal Harry’s ring?”

The blood whooshing through Erich’s veins reminded him that such a fine line existed between passion and frustration. As always, when she stood tall and challenged him, his desire for her raged. “Are we really going there again? I told you then I was curious. I was curious now.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, don’t you know.”

“Especially if it runs into someone wielding a glass of lemonade. You could put an eye out with the ice.”

Was that a smile that curved her lips and a twinkle that touched her eyes, only to fade just as fast? How many past arguments ended with roars of laughter, followed by a loving embrace? If he could touch her with humor, would romance follow? Before he could try, her posture tightened. “You’re lucky I wasn’t swinging a bat. I have every right to protect Harry’s property from thieves.”

“I wouldn’t steal from you, Bess. And it’s quite impossible for me to steal from–” He stopped himself short of blurting out the secret eating at him. Who would have thought it’d be so hard to be a guest in his own life — Harry’s life. Where did Harry end and Erich begin? The line just wasn’t clear anymore.

“You think because my husband has passed, his property is up for looting?”

He gripped her shoulders, encouraging her to look in his eyes. To Hell with Jaden’s warnings and threats. The connection that had always been there between the two of them still loomed, he could feel it. She’d recognize it. “Look in my eyes, Bess, and you’ll see the truth. You’ll see Ha—” Erich’s throat constricted tight. He tried to push forward, say the name, but with each attempt his stomach turned and his throat burned.
Damn Jaden and his games.

“All I is see when I look at you is a stranger, a rogue. I can’t even imagine how angry Harry would be to know you were trying to steal from him.”

“Harry’s gone. It’s not his property, it’s yours. I’d never steal from you — or anyone — Bess. My crimes are being nosy and acting on stupid impulses. I apologize for that.”

Her body softened in his grip, and he resisted the urge to pull her tighter, though it tore his heart in two.

“You’re here for him — or his memory — aren’t you?” Bess asked.

Erich wasn’t exactly sure what she accused him of, but there was only one reason he was here, and it wasn’t for himself. “No.”

Tears veiled her voice. “I can see it. In your eyes, there’s a fire so strong, so bright. Harry’s the only other person I ever saw with such a determined gleam. You’re driven. You get what you want.”

The profound sadness in her voice knocked him off balance, and he released his hold on her. He’d never thought those to be bad traits, but both her and Jaden described them as sins. “Are you telling me Harry had flaws?”

“Of course he did. He was human.” A wistful smile showed itself. “I loved my husband, but that drive is what took him from me. That desire to put the show above us. He’s gone because for days he denied my pleas to see a doctor. His last good breath was given to his legions of fans, and I’m left to keep aflame the fire that burned my life to the ground.”

Is that how she saw those last days?
Yes, he was sick, but he never guessed he was anything close to dying. It all started with those students. They’d challenged his claim that he could take any punch to the stomach without giving him time to brace for their blows. Had it been so ludicrous to blame them for the intense pain, even though somewhere deep inside he knew more was going on?

Even if money was no longer the issue for them, old habits die hard. Doctors were a frivolous expense, especially since he thought he had a touch of flu that would soon pass. “I doubt he knew how sick he was.”

“His appendix had burst. The doctors said the pain must have been unbearable for days. I begged him to cancel shows, but the roar of the crowd called louder.”

Nothing could be further from the truth, and her accusations pushed the air from him like those sucker-punches. How could she think he valued anything more than her?

The more she told him, the further she drifted away. Her face became a vacant slate, as if showing one emotion would crack the rock-hard pretense she showed the world. “I swear he was able to manipulate that insurance company from beyond the grave. They paid out on the double indemnity clause of his policy. Ruled it was work-related even though the doctors said his own ignorance caused his death.
That
is the fire I see in your eyes. Nothing matters more to you than you.”

Good news wrapped in the worst kind. She recognized something and identified it with Harry. Maybe her soul called to his, but Bess’s didn’t much care for him anymore. Harry had no idea the pain he’d caused, and Erich had no basis to explain it or make it pass for her. “I like to consider myself a driven man, but about everything else, you’re wrong.” With nothing more to add, he walked to the far corner of the shed and picked up a pair of trimmers. “I’m going to tend to the hedges before supper, if I’m still a welcome guest in your home.”

“How can I let you stay? I don’t trust you.”

Her words spun him back, and he stepped toward her. Pleading with her went against every instinct Harry ever lived by, but what did he have left? “I’m sorry I’ve breached your faith in me. Give me a chance to prove myself.”

She swallowed hard and looked him up and down. He could see her indecision. “You’ve made headway with the chores, but we’ve barely scratched the surface of what needs to be done. You’re welcome to stay on, but if you forget your place just one more time, I will have no choice but to ask you to leave.”

Words escaped him, so he acknowledged her statement with a single nod and returned to his work. Earning his bed and meals would win respect, the rest he’d sort out later.

Back in the yard, the sun was beginning to droop in the sky as the evening waned, but the Santa Anas were blowing again, scorching everything it touched. He’d never remembered them burning for so long with such intensity. Dropping the clippers to the grass in front of the shrubs, he peeled the soaked shirt off and began to lift the cotton undershirt. It occurred to him if Bess saw the bandage beneath seeping blood, puss and now soaked with lemonade, she’d try to nurse him. The similarity between this wound and Harry’s condition would cause more pain. Instead, he lifted the t-shirt away from his skin and tried to ring it out, even though the acid and sugar had permeated the bandage and burned the open wound.

Bending back at the waist, he let the hot breeze dry his flesh and pleaded to the empty skies to heal her heart and ease her pain.

A chuckle erupted from low in his gut. For three days, he’d walked this plane with Harry’s spirit, and Erich now did something Harry would despise. He
prayed
that Bess’s soul would find healing.

Bess let the screen door slam behind her, stomped to the sink and peered out the window. How was it possible to want to strangle someone and kiss them at the same time? The inexplicable attraction was primal. Maddening. Yet, it refused to be ignored.

Now, she watched as he stood with his back stretched out and his face pointed toward the waning sun. So in tune with everything around him, like Harry, but Erich blended in with his surroundings. He coexisted in way that felt spiritual, whereas Harry was always guarded.

Why didn’t she throw him out of the house? Twice she’d caught him eyeing her property. Still, a small voice whispered to trust him. Erich had no idea what was in the cabinet. Gardening tools would be a logical assumption.

What am I doing?
Why am I making excuses for him?

He’d admitted to being in the wrong. So, why did the idea of sending him away pull at her heart?

Hold me up, baby. Let me know you’re still here.

Had she really sunk to begging a ghost? If only she could hear his voice again, it would give her the strength to continue pursuing his dream. Just because Harry was gone didn’t mean the spotlight wouldn’t shine bold and bright for The Houdinis again, and she only had a little over three short weeks to prepare for his return. Erich was a distraction, pure and simple.  A diversion that could cost her everything she and her husband had worked so hard to obtain.

Erich’s words in the shed reverberated in his ears:
It’s impossible for me to steal from Harry; he’s dead.
He didn’t understand what was at stake.

So black and white. So misguided. So painful. And exactly what Harry would have said.

Her husband’s voice disappeared from her mind the moment she’d met Erich. The running commentary ceased to play, and she guessed at Harry’s will instead of feeling it with conviction. He’d want her to keep their dream alive.
Wouldn’t he?

Martin had spoken of loss, grief and finding love again, but she’d never imagined it would happen to her. Her misery seemed boundless, but that changed in a snap when Erich appeared out of thin air. Maybe this was simply lust.

The mere thought caused her stomach to churn with guilt. Her long marriage and Harry’s devotion deserved more than eleven months of mourning. The legacy that he’d worked to build — that he’d given his life for — shouldn’t fade away from anyone’s mind. Definitely not hers.

When she examined the facts, she had no other choice. Her preparation for the séance had to come first. If Erich continued at his current pace, the house would be in order by the end of the week. She’d push him on his way and set her mind and heart back where it belonged.

Through the window, she saw him heading for the house. Having put the tools away, he’d be expecting dinner, and he might not accept her drooling over his chiseled abs through the thin veil of his drenched t-shirt as an acceptable excuse for the delay. She wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt and opened the refrigerator.

The screen door squeaked, announcing Erich’s entrance. She called to him, “I’ll have supper for you in thirty minutes.”

His large hand gripped her shoulder. She didn’t want to look in his eyes, but she allowed him to spin her toward him. “Bess, I just wanted…needed to express again how sorry I am. Please, believe me. It was mischief, not theft on my mind.”

What was she supposed to say? She couldn’t tell him it was okay. It’d never be all right for him to grub through Harry’s things or invade her privacy. So then why couldn’t she shake the urge to curl up against his shoulder and feel his arms wrapped tight around her, protecting her from the storm of emotions tearing her apart? The sight of him drove up her blood pressure and made her palms sweaty and sticky again.

She fought her desire with the image of him picking the lock. Even if he didn’t look a thing like Harry, the way his body moved, his focus and his drive all touched parts of her only Harry ever had before.

“All I ask is that you respect my privacy from this moment forward.”

His hands clasped, the fingers tapped against each other. Did all grown men fidget like naughty boys or had she been unlucky enough to find the only two?

“Of course. Seeing as I have some time, I think I’d like to shower before dinner.”

Deflecting her stare, she waved him off. As he left, her craving became a longing. Part of her belonged to him. It didn’t make any sense, but was true nonetheless. Bess now knew that pushing Erich out of her life was not only the right thing to do, but what had to be done if she had any chance of getting Harry back.

***

In the shower, a cool spray washed the sticky sweat and lemonade from his body, but it did little to ease his aches and pains. Erich didn’t mind much, though. The stiff, sore muscles were a stark reminder of what was at stake. Life was about how a person lived, not what was acquired. He’d never forget that or take life for granted again.

It didn’t matter if Bess was screaming at him or dousing him with drinks, those moments were more beautiful and active then what he’d experienced in Jaden’s hands on the other side. Too bad it could all slip away if he didn’t find a way to get through to her.

Still, for fleeting moments when their gazes locked, he swore she reached for him. When they shared a laugh or he touched her, he sensed that she knew his soul was Harry’s, but those brief seconds never lasted. They always faded.

He patted his wound dry, swallowing the screams each touch unleashed. He poured peroxide over the loose, tattered stitches and watched it bubble, gripping the counter and biting his tongue to shield Bess from the truth. Instead of healing, his flesh was turning dark red, and a yellow puss oozed from beneath the black threads. If there were any hope of a recovery, he’d have to find a way to rest and keep lemon and sugar away from it. Now was the worst possible time for Bess to lose faith in him. He’d have to work twice as hard to regain her favor.

Dressed in clean clothes, he returned to the kitchen, walking in just as Bess set the two plates on the table. Each plate contained a few slices of corn beef, some rice, a spoonful of peas — probably picked from the garden — and a slice of homemade bread so fresh from the oven the butter melted into it. His stomach rumbled, and his mouth watered in anticipation.

“Good timing. Come eat while it’s still hot.”

They sat at the same table, but Bess kept her eyes focused on the plate and the conversation to a minimum. Answering Harry’s call to open the lock had closed the doors with Bess that Erich had struggled to open. His spirit deflated. He wanted to push and tried steering the conversation to the weather or how much he’d accomplished, but each question or comment was met with the shortest, starkest reply.

His gut told him to fall to his knees and confess the whole truth about who he was and the deal with Jaden. Then he’d take her in his arms and escort her to their marriage bed, but he knew the reality. Not only was it against Jaden’s rules, but the brute had made admission impossible. If Erich attempted again, Jaden might claim victory and call him back. Easing his conscious wasn’t worth losing a moment with Bess.

So he stood and took his dishes to the sink. He heard stones kicking up in the driveway and saw an old black pickup truck approaching the house.  It didn’t match anything from Harry’s memories, and Erich wondered who would be calling at such a time.

“It seems you have a visitor.”

Bess brought her dishes to the sink and peered out the window. “It’s Joseph. I wonder what he wants.” She washed her hands and dried them on the dishtowel hanging from the drawer handle before going to greet the man at the back door.

Unwilling to leave Bess alone with the stranger, and more than a little curious as to why he was entering his house, Erich filled the sink with soapy water and began cleaning up the dishes.

Bess greeted the man warmly, inviting him into the kitchen. “Can I get you a cup of tea, Joseph?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Houdini. I didn’t come to be trouble. I just wanted to drop this off for you.” He offered her a large canning jar filled with green leaves.

Bess took it, holding the jar up to the light and examining the contents. “What is this?”

“The leaves from a black currant vine. Steep them in boiling water with dandelion greens for a quarter hour. The resulting tea will help you make peace with your troubled heart and that restless soul that haunts you.”

Bess reached for Joseph’s hand and squeezed it. She then motioned to a chair. “What did I ever do to deserve your kindness? Please, you went to so much trouble to share your remedy with me. Sit and tell me more about it.”

Joseph reached for the back of the chair, but hesitated and tipped his ear toward the ceiling. Letting his eyes flutter closed, he seemed to be giving himself over to his surroundings. He then straightened and walked toward Erich with an outstretched arm. “You are ill, son.”

Erich resisted the urge to cradle the wound on his stomach. How did this man know he was injured? “No. I’m fine.”

Joseph put his hands up between the two of them starting at mid-chest level. He then raised them up and lowered them, mumbling to himself so softly that Erich couldn’t decipher the words. “Your body is broken and your soul is lost. Both hope to find a home here, but the road is long, and the terrain uneven. You must find sure footing if you hope to unearth peace.”

Having washed the dishes and properly cared for the leftover food, Erich picked up the dishtowel Bess had discarded and wiped his hands. “I appreciate the diagnosis, but you’re wrong. I’m fine.” He flipped his attention over his shoulder. “Good night, Bess.”

“Yes, yes, I must leave too, for you will be in need of my services soon, and I must prepare. Good night, Bess.”

Erich retreated to the guest room. It was bad enough that he had to sleep alone, not only would he be tortured by his memories and Bess’s new spin on their past, but now he had the weird ranting of the madman to process. If there was anything that Harry was not, it was transparent to those around him. To have this stranger see clear through his injured body to Harry’s tormented soul unnerved Erich and the ghost living within.

He was positive sleep would prove impossible, but the instant his head hit the pillow, consciousness slipped away. Images of how Harry’s choices in life had devastated Bess filled the void.

“This body is not yours. It is merely a loan. Continue to step on the wrong path and it will be mine once again.”

Not his voice, but it rolled up from the same place his conscious would. Jaden spoke in a hushed whisper, raising goose bumps on Erich’s arms. The life that resided in his body’s shell was wrapped in something cold and wet, lighter than a quilt but heavier than mist.

A long stone pier on a cool foggy night materialized, and he could see a lighthouse in the distance. It was the New York/New Jersey shoreline, but not really. This was a dream, and Jaden controlled his experiences. In those images, he found himself face-to-mid-chest with the hulk of a man, this time dressed in a flowing white robe.

“You sent me here to heal, but all I do is hurt,” Erich said.

“Just because you possess the power doesn’t mean you’re using it right. Remember how many hours of persistent patience it took before you were able to pick your first lock?”

He was tired of Jaden’s mind games. The more time he spent with Bess, the more he learned about her battered heart. Jaden’s callous competition wouldn’t give her closure. Erich wasn’t sure anything or anyone could. Why in the world had he accepted a challenge where his wife’s heart, mind, and quite possibly her soul lay on the line? “Are you comparing Bess to some cold piece of metal?”

“No. I’m saying anything worth having is worth fighting for.” Disappointment resided in Jaden’s eyes, and Erich had to turn his focus away. Whether it was a crowd of strangers or a dear friend, Harry didn’t accept failure as an option, yet that’s exactly what he was doing. “I expected so much more spunk from you. You’ve taken every blow like you don’t want to succeed.”