Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie We're In Trouble! (The Toad Witch Mysteries Book 2) (10 page)

Aramis and Apollo wagged their stumpy tails. They were completely on board with that outcome.

*     *     *

I put one of Gus’s classical music CDs in the player, plopped down on a chair and tried to focus on something else—anything else—other than weather and toads.

The baby stretched and I patted my tummy. “Sorry about yesterday, kiddo. I know your dad sounds like a jerk, but he’s been going through a hard time. I’m sure he’ll love you just as much as I do, once you’re born.”

I had to snort. Even I didn’t believe that one. I’d have to pull the tarot cards and see what they had to say about Paul and the baby—assuming they were still talking to me. They got touchy about being ignored, and since I hadn’t used them in awhile, it was a bit of a toss-up about how responsive they were going to be.

“Well, okay, even if he doesn’t love you as much, it doesn’t matter. With Gus around, you’re going to get a lot of daddy love.”

The more I thought about it, the more pulling the cards sounded like a great idea. Maybe I could get some insight into the corner Gus had backed himself into. I went to the shelves to get my velvet card bag, but it wasn’t there. I searched the room. Nothing. I expanded the search to the cottage, but I couldn’t find it anywhere.

I went back downstairs, and plopped down on the couch, seriously disturbed. It’s not like cards can go off on their own. Where could they possibly be?

The ghost of Grundleshanks appeared on the side table and stared at me.

“Hey, Grundle. Have you seen my cards? They were in a blue velvet bag?”

He made a croaking sound. In my belly, I felt the baby turn to look at him.

Wait a minute…

The baby could sense Grundleshanks’s spirit.

Chapter 19

“W
ell. That’s an interesting turn of events.” I muttered.

Gus was going to hate being out-numbered in the
Seeing Dead People
department.

“What are you doing here anyway, Grundleshanks?” I asked.

“Bored,”
popped into my head.

“I can understand that. You were definitely more fun when you were alive,” I said.

The doorbell rang. The Dobies raced out of the kitchen to hurl themselves against the front door.

“Can you get that?!” Gus hollered. “I have my hands full!”

*     *     *

I pushed past the barking, snarling fiends and opened the door to find Paul standing there. Once the Dobies realized he wasn’t a serial killer, they quieted down.

“I thought you’d be awake by now. It’s after noon,” he said, pointedly looking at my pajamas and mussed-up hair.

“Since when did you become the sleep police?” I replied, testily.

“Who is that?” Gus hollered from the kitchen.

“It’s for me,” I hollered back. “It’s Paul.”

I heard a muffled curse, before Gus closed the kitchen door.

I stood in the doorway and contemplated Paul. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

He sighed. “You dropped a bomb on me, Mara. What kind of reaction did you expect?”

“I don’t know. But I’m feeling kind of nauseous and I have to pee, so whatever you want, make it snappy.” I didn’t really, but I figured it would encourage him to leave.

He looked a bit taken aback.

I cleared my throat. “What do you want, Paul?”

He shifted from one foot to the other and stared down at his hiking boots. “To apologize.”

“Really?” That was totally unexpected.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” He looked up and gave me a lopsided smile.

I opened the door wider. “Come in.”

He hesitated and nervously licked his lips. I got a sudden flash of what was going on in his head.

He was afraid
.

I couldn’t blame him. Last time he had walked into my cottage, his life had been blown apart.

Apollo, the red Dobie, slid past me, out the front door, and leaned against Paul’s legs. Paul bent to pet him and I watched, fascinated, as calmness and strength flowed out of Apollo and into Paul.

That was new and different. I didn’t know the Dobes could do that.

Finally, taking a deep breath, Paul came inside, Apollo leaning against him the entire way. I led them into the living room. Paul tentatively sat down on the couch. Apollo jumped up next to him and rested his head on Paul’s leg.

I sat down in the armchair, Aramis sat next to me, and we both watched Paul relax as he continued to pet Apollo.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. I called a high-risk pregnancy O.B. in Trinity Harbor and he told me about a Center that specializes in genetic testing.”

I took a breath to protest.

He raised his hand to stop me. “Hear me out. The Center uses 3D ultrasounds to detect Down’s syndrome in fetuses. It’s non-invasive, and we’d get a clear picture of the baby. We’d actually be able to see the baby’s face.”

That sounded interesting. I really wanted to see what my baby looked like and whether or not I was right about the gender. While I didn’t think there would be any birth defects, a non-invasive way to make sure would be great. But Trinity Harbor was so far away and it sounded like a hugely expensive proposition.

 “If you can see for yourself that the baby doesn’t have horns, or an extra head or hooves for feet, do you think you could not treat it like a sideshow freak when it’s born?”

Silence from him as he petted Apollo.

Then: “I’ll still want a paternity test.”

I sighed. “Of course you will. Okay, let’s say I’m on board. How much is it going to cost?”

“Insurance covers it.”

“And if you don’t have insurance?”

Paul gave me a look. “They only accept insurance. They don’t take checks.”

“That’s us out, then.”

“Are you kidding me? You don’t have health insurance?” Paul tensed up again, the veins in his neck bulging.

Apollo edged forward on top of his lap, until his front legs and chest were on Paul, effectively pinning him down.

Paul took a deep breath. “Mara. Do you have any idea what hospitals and doctors and anesthesiologists cost? How are you going to afford to have the baby?”

I shrugged. That question had been keeping me up nights. “I don’t know. I’m still working out the details.”

Paul looked completely flabbergasted. “That’s not acceptable.”

“Women used to have babies in fields.”

“They used to die in childbirth, too. But now we have modern medicine.”

“I have to work with what I’ve got,” I said, exasperated.

“This whole thing is completely unacceptable.”

“What do you want me to do? Sales in our online store have been non-existent and no one wants to hire a preggie. I’ve been looking. My options are kind of limited.”

“Are you taking prenatal vitamins at least?”

“Of course I am,” I snapped. “And I’m seeing Doc Brady for check-ups.” Thankfully, the doc was willing to trade well-visits for spellcrafting candles, incense and mojo bags, or I’d be in even worse shape.

 Paul gave me an annoyed look. “Don’t get snippy with me. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to. It’s not like I don’t want health insurance.”

He sighed. “Then I’ll have to figure out a way to get you insured, won’t I?”

“Really?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes.”

I hoped he had a good game plan up his sleeve. “You know, it’s times like this I remember why I wanted to have sex with you to begin with.” I quipped.

He moved Apollo off his lap and stood up, barely cracking a smile. “I’ll text you the info about the Center.”

As I walked him to the door, I asked how his therapy sessions were going.

“They suck.”

That surprised me. “Why?”

“Because every time I make any forward progress, you hit me with something new.”

“Oh,” I could feel my face flush. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, clearly not meaning it.

He bent and petted Apollo’s head again.

The dog was sticking to him like Velcro.

“He really likes you. Why don’t you take him home and work with him for a bit?”

Paul looked at me, quizzically. “What are you talking about?”

“I read about Dobermans being used as therapy dogs. And the two of you seem to really get along well.” I stopped, as a cloud passed across Paul’s face.

I had to tread lightly. If I made it seem like I was doing him a favor, he might nix the whole thing. But if I could turn it around…

“Taking care of two big dogs, Gus, and soon a baby… it’s just too much for me. If you could help me out, by taking Apollo for a little bit—just until I get my groove going—that would really be awesome.”

He paused and thought about it. “I do too much traveling to have a full-time dog.”

“It wouldn’t be a permanent thing. Just for a little while. I’m good with joint custody,” I said. “It’ll be good practice for when the baby gets here.”

“Let me think about it.” Apollo licked his hand and Paul cracked the first genuine smile I had seen on him, in a long time.

*     *     *

After Paul left, I went to take a shower and change. Apollo trotted over to the kitchen to see about scraps, but Aramis glued himself to me so tightly, he got soaking wet from the shower. So I bathed him and clipped his nails. When Apollo came in to check on us, I bathed him as well.

Gus had propped the kitchen door open, and a delectable heat was slowly filling the cottage. By late afternoon there were so many yummy smells coming from the kitchen, I was having a foodgasm.

I checked to see if anything was ready to be carried out, but Gus was being all “you sit your pregnant butt down, little lady, and let the man do the work.”

With Apollo following him, he hiked supplies down to our little cemetery in the woods. I was hungry again, so I went into the kitchen and grabbed a plum to tide me over. I was just washing it when the doorbell rang, startling me.

The plum dropped out of my hand, into the garbage disposal. I fished it out and tossed it where the garbage can used to be. To my surprise, it dropped and rolled on the floor.

I looked around.
Where the heck was the garbage can?

Unless he hid it for some reason, Gus must have taken it to the cemetery. 

The doorbell rang again, insistent.

“Hold on! I’m coming!”

Geez, it was like Union Station around here. After weeks of having no visitors, I was suddenly inundated with people.

I picked up the plum and tossed it in the sink, to throw out later. Maybe I could leave it outside for woodland creatures. It would probably be okay for them, right?

I opened the door, expecting to find Paul, but instead, I found the suave older guy, with the dazzling blue eyes, from the diner.

Chapter 20

H
e had a large box at his side. He smiled at me and nodded, as if I should be expecting him—as if we were old friends.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, alarmed.

The wards hadn’t gone off, so the guy must not be a danger to the cottage, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a danger to me. What kind of nut tracks you down at your home address?

Aramis growled at him from behind the safety of my legs. That was unusual. Normally, he’d be in front of me, snapping his teeth in the famous Dobie smile that terrified strangers.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” the man asked, politely smiling.

“No. How did you find out where I lived, anyway?”

He shrugged. “It’s a small town.”

“It still has a police force.”

“Are you always this rude to your guests?” he asked. And he smiled again. He had perfect, almost sparkling, white teeth with sharp incisors.

“What are you talking about? You’re no guest of mine.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I think I would know. What do you want?”

“What do you think I want?”

I peeked out at the street. A bright red luxury sports car with dealer plates was parked by the curb. “Did you get lost on your way to the gas station?”

“No.”

“I give up. Are you selling Girl Scout Cookies?”

“Do I look like a Girl Scout?” he said, grinning.

“Avon?”

“No. Not Mary Kay, either. Try again.”

“Census taker?”

“Nada.”

I was starting to get exasperated. I always hated being put on the spot to cough up
fill-in-the-blank
answers when I was a kid, and this was feeling a lot like a
fill-in-the-blank
conversation.

“Are you a Jehovah’s Witness? Because I’ll tell you right now, if you are, Gus will want to talk to you. In fact, he may want to sacrifice you to Cthulu. So you should probably run while you can.”

The man laughed, a deep baritone laugh, his cheeks creasing into dimples. “I take it Gus is an H.P. Lovecraft fan?”

“On alternate Fridays. Okay… Well, it was nice talking to you. Goodbye.” I tried to close the door, but he blocked it.

“Is this an appropriate way to treat a gentleman caller?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I told you at the diner, I wasn’t entertaining any gentlemen callers.”

“I’m not here for you. I’m here for Gus. I never turn down an invite to a night of Misrule.” He held out his cell phone, so I could see Gus’s text message.

“You’re… Forrest?!” I asked, incredulous. I felt my cheeks get hot.

“Nice to officially meet you,” he said.

I tried not to let the disappointment show on my face. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Tonight was just supposed to be me and Gus.

And then I realized that I must have looked like an idiot at the diner, assuming his interest had been in me.

“Are you going to let me in?”

“Sure. I guess so. Come on in. Welcome to Gus’s Rule. Formerly known as Misrule.” I stepped aside, so he and his box would have room to enter.

“Gus’s Rule?”

“He can explain it.”

Once Forrest was inside, Aramis calmed down and sniffed at the box.

“You don’t have any livestock in there, do you? Or more vegetables?”

“It’s a surprise for Gus.” He sniffed the dinner aromas appreciatively. “I take it he’s in the kitchen?”