Shaking Off the Dust (7 page)

“Okay.” Shimodo bowed. “But if either Tom or I feel you are tiring, we stop and you, my girl, are packed off to bed with the most mind-numbing book we can find.”

“Great, we’ll need a pen and paper. I vote Shimodo in as the secretary of this little club.” I curled my feet under me.

“Am I allowed to even take part in this election?” Shimodo went to a desk and pulled out a pen and legal pad.

“You can vote, but with my recent hospitalization I’m using the health card and Tom’s not able, so you just got elected. I hope you don’t write like a doctor.”

Shimodo laughed as he sat back down in his chair. “Please begin, Madam Chairman.”

Turning to Tom, I used my best imperial gaze. “Tell us what you think is keeping you here, but first I need to know something. The white light we all hear about, does it exist?”

“There was a light.”

I repeated to Shimodo each sentence Tom spoke.

“At first it was all I could see, but I moved away from it. Wait, let me rephrase, I turned to see my body.”

“We can’t help you, if you don’t tell us everything,” I said quietly.

He nodded, glancing over at Shimodo. “Each morning, at sunrise, wherever I am, a bright light shines next to me. It always lasts for several minutes. I time it every day. Then it’s gone. I never feel compelled to step into the radiance. I recognize there’s some reason I don’t. Once I step into that light, there’s no way I can finish what I need to do here. I don’t know what that is exactly.” Tom paced in front of the settee.

“Okay,” Shimodo began, “we’ve established that you can enter the light, when you’re ready. You need to feel like you’ve finished things here so you can. This is all positive news.”

“I must have seen or heard something during my plane flight. Something that can help us find the terrorist,” Tom said.

“Did you ever speak with the others from the plane crash? Those like you who didn’t move on?” I asked Tom.

“No, I haven’t.”

Shimodo did his impression of a student lost during the class lecture.

“Tom told me the other night that there’re about two dozen other spirits who are at the site and hangar.”

He gave a nod of understanding. I jumped off the couch and walked towards Tom. “Maybe that’s exactly what you should do. That’s your assignment. Go talk with each of them. Perhaps all of you are still here because you know something to help prevent a future terrorist plot.” I marched right up to Tom’s face. “You have all been through a huge transformation. Use that bond to have a discussion. Tell them our theory. Do whatever it takes to get them to talk.”

Shimodo was writing on the legal pad, his head down. Tom continued to pace in front of the sofa, giving me the evil eye. “What are you still doing here? Go to them.” One last glare and he disappeared.

I watched Shimodo finish his careful note-taking then stepped in front of him. “Find me that oh-so-boring book.”

“Ready for bed? That was a short meeting.”

Was he disappointed
?

“Tom’s gone. Until he comes back with new information, we have time to waste.” I was less interested in the books than in my companion. “When do you have to go back to work?”

“When I got word on Tom’s initial condition, it was the start of the new semester. I arranged a three-month sabbatical. There’s been so much involved with his funeral and estate, I was glad to have the

time. I check in by computer on the research and one of the TAs in the program is covering my classes.”

I turned back to the books and grabbed the first one I reached. “
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle
Maintenance
. That’ll do.” As I stepped back he was there, so close I could feel the heat of his body.

“Tom told me that I was a good subject for your research.” I wore my neutral face, the one I put on when I question a patient about their sex life.

Shimodo searched my expression. “Yes, it would be very interesting to run some tests on you, to see what lights up in that brain of yours. Especially when you are talking to Tom.”

“Sure, any time.” I couldn’t stop the disappointed sigh from escaping. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Shimodo.”

I was suddenly very tired. Tom was right. I was the perfect research rat. When I got back in bed, I didn’t bother to read the book. I lay in the dark for a long time wondering what Vicki would have to say about this whole situation. Hannah Campbell with a crush on a sexy doctor who was in all probability doing all the most beautiful of his students and had lovers scattered over the world. From his standpoint, my only attractive attribute was that of a brain-damaged ghost interpreter.

I woke up at sunrise. The damn curtains were open, and the light fell across my face. I had a headache, not improved by the unrelenting sunshine. The burn on my hand throbbed like it was brand new. How could something so small hurt so much? I searched for a curtain pull. I was afraid to tug on the curtains.

With the kind of luck I was having, the whole damn thing would come down on me. Large red numerals showed me the time on the digital clock, five twenty-seven in the a.m. No way I’d get back to sleep with the sun in my face.

I reluctantly got up and went down to the kitchen. I found a coffeepot in one of the cabinets and grounds in the freezer. While it brewed, I wandered around searching for the dogs, thinking I could put them out.

I decided they must be sleeping in with Shimodo.

I was pouring coffee when the back door opened and two barking dogs slid into the kitchen, Shimodo right behind them. He wore a sweatshirt and jogging pants, his hair wet with perspiration. He stopped in his tracks.

“Morning,” I mumbled, taking a sip of coffee.

“You promised last night that you’d sleep eight hours. I hope that’s not coffee.” His expression bordered on a scowl.

“Piss off, Shimodo. I’m tired and grumpy and, until I’m on my second cup of coffee, it would be safer for you to stay twenty yards away and not ask impertinent questions.” Okay, I’m a little bitchy in the morning.

He raised an eyebrow. “My, aren’t you the princess. Not a morning person, are you? Sounds like you need to go back to bed and join us when you’re feeling more yourself.”

“Apparently, I fooled you into believing this isn’t my normal self. I told you I’d be better left alone. This is what you deserve, me at my most grumpy.” I sighed. “I have a headache. The coffee will help.” At least he should pray it did. I didn’t tell him that.

“Put down the coffee and come sit over here.” He washed his hands.

I took another sip, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Please sit. I want to try some pressure points to see if it can help your headache.”

“You can try the pressure points, but the coffee’s not up for discussion.” I moved to the chair he indicated.

“Hannah, you heard the cardiologist tell you to avoid stimulants. You are a nurse and know better. You should not be drinking caffeine one day after your heart was racing.” He took the coffee out of my hand and poured it down the sink, ignoring my small shriek. The contents of the coffeepot followed. I lay my head down on the counter top as he filled the teapot and set it to boil.

“You…are a pain in my ass, Shimodo. Just because you’re handsome and tall doesn’t make me intimidated, or all aflutter. You’re just another doctor ordering me around. And this will be the last time I stay here,” I protested bitterly.

“Show me where your headache is.” He stood behind me and his breath blew on my neck. “Let me try this.”

I pointed to the spot in my hair where the surgery scar was and behind my right eye. He rubbed his hands together for a moment, warming them, then laced them over my eyes, pressing gently. He applied pressure to various points on my face, neck and head, and finally on my wrist.

My eyes drifted shut and my mind wandered to those long, sensual fingers and the other places I’d have liked to feel them. Maybe I was a little aflutter.

“Any better?” he whispered in my left ear.

I startled out of my naughty fantasy. He walked over to the kitchen counter and poured hot water in a teacup, lifting the tea bag in and out for a long time. “Any better?”

“I think it is.” I was tired.

“Here, drink this tea, then you should go back to bed.”

“It’s too bright in my bedroom. I can’t figure out how to close the curtains.” I tried not to whine.

“I can fix that. Let’s go up there and make it dark.” He pulled me out of the chair to go with him. I stumbled from the lethargy.

“What did you do to me? I feel like a rag doll.”

“That’s funny. You look like a Goth victim, black vampire tee shirt and black leggings. All you need are some piercings.”

“I don’t know you well enough to show you those.” I gave an almost hysterical laugh.

“It’s always intriguing to be with you. I never know what you might say next.” He took my elbow and led me into the overbright bedroom.

He put the teacup on the bedside table, then went to the far side of the curtains, turning what looked like a light fixture. The curtains closed slowly and the room darkened. He pulled the covers back, patting the spot. “You’ll feel better when you get up again.”

“It must take meditation to stay as calm as you, Shimodo.” I got back in between the cool sheets. I think I fell asleep the instant my head hit the pillows.

I woke up to my name.

“Hannah, get up!” Tom shouted into my ear.

“Wrong ear. Deaf, remember?” I mumbled into the pillow.

“Regardless, you’re awake. Now go shower and change. I have news.” He walked out then stuck his head through the closed door. “And don’t tell Takeshi I woke you. He forbade me from disturbing you.”

Twenty minutes later, I had showered and dressed. My hair was still wet, but I decided it wouldn’t get me anywhere to try and impress my two roommates. We weren’t dating, nor would I turn their heads with my looks even if I tried. I was overweight and a health crisis walking.

Shimodo was tossing a salad in the kitchen and there was fish on a grill.

“I’m starving.” I sat at the table. “And that smells edible.”

He nodded. “Still got a headache?”

“No, all better. Thank you.” I showed a proper admission of gratitude.

“Believe me, it was all self-serving on my part.” Shimodo smiled. “You were so charming.”

“What did I miss this morning?” Tom appeared in the chair next to me.

“I’m surprised you didn’t sleep a little longer.” He spun around the kitchen. “You woke her up, didn’t you, Tom?”

I nodded.

“You are such a tattletale,” Tom chided in disgust.

“I didn’t tell, I simply agreed with his estimation of the situation.” I waggled my finger at him. “You’d have left me asleep if you’d taken the brunt of my grumpiness this morning.”

Shimodo laughed. “I heard the shower so I started lunch. There’s juice, water or soda, and herbal tea in the fridge. I bought a variety of beverages. Make a list of things you like to eat and drink, and I will be happy to bring them home my next shopping trip.”

He ladled fish and sautéed green beans into my plate and put salad on the table. I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge and put one in front of his plate. He nodded his head.

I said my silent grace and took a quick look around the table before I dove into the meal. Everything tasted wonderful. The green beans were a perfect texture and the salad tasted high carb. “This is heaven,” I announced around a mouthful of fish.

“The chef thanks you.” Shimodo did one of his almost bows.

“You two need to get a room, but
not
here,” Tom muttered.

I inhaled my salad and nearly aspirated romaine lettuce into my lungs, “Jealous?” I raised my eyebrow at him.

“I’m getting tired of being the third wheel here,” Shimodo complained.

“Sorry, that job’s taken.” Tom frowned.

I nearly choked to death on my green bean. When I could breathe again, I took a long sip of water and wiped my eyes. “Not another word from either of you until I finish eating.”

“I still want to know what Tom said the first time you choked. Somehow I doubt it was a dysphasia problem.” Shimodo watched me.

“You might as well tell us what you’re bursting to talk about.” I folded my arms. “I’m not meant to enjoy this meal.”

“Yes, you can. Just eat. Ignore him and ignore me. I will now distract Tom from you.” He ate a piece of fish and turned to the chair I’d been talking to, the one Tom sat in. “Tom, I forbid you from bothering Hannah again when she sleeps. She is not your personal walky-talky to me or anyone else. Do you understand?”

Tom used his symbolic middle finger to touch his friend.

I laughed. “He’s using this finger.” I thought a visual was worth a thousand words.

“He’s getting full of himself,” Tom griped.

I hunched over and grabbed my fork, putting salad in my mouth.

Shimodo sat back and rolled his eyes. “He must have said something good. You’re stuffing your mouth to keep from talking.”

I swallowed. “Which was your plan all along.”

“Clever girl.”

We finished lunch without another choking episode. I put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher as Shimodo put food away, then we headed into the living room. He grabbed pen and paper like a good Boy Scout.

I felt like a UN interpreter. Every sentence Tom spoke, I repeated. He seemed to take it in stride and it made Shimodo part of a three-way conversation.

“I did what you wanted. I went to the crash site and to the hangar where they are piecing together the plane. I talked with all of them. Twenty-three total. I wish I could write down names and places. They agreed to listen because I promised you could help them or contact their families with a message from them. We’ll need to get to Madrid.”

“Tell us what you do remember,” Shimodo said.

“Almost all of them are Spanish. Oddly enough I can understand everything they say. Eduardo’s bags were lost, so he is able to be in the luggage area and parts of the airport. He discovered that one of the baggage handlers is accepting suitcases from illegal sources. He seems to think it’s a good lead and can show us the baggage handler. Eduardo’s wife died three years ago and his children are only three and five. He wishes them to live with his sister-in-law in America. He says that a neighbor moved into his home claiming to be his girlfriend. He doesn’t even know her and neither do his children. He wants her gone.”