Ghostly: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Perks of Being Paranormal Book 1)

Chapter 15

If Ida thought Gabriel was devoted when it came to his work, she’d never seen him plan a house renovation. Within a week, he’d talked Farrah, the landlady, into allowing him to renovate the house, as long as he funded the endeavor (and supplied his lemon chicken recipe). Dina would contact a friend of a friend who sold the best bare root roses (Ida’s suggestion, because they’d take better to the early spring ground), and let in Gabriel on a secret family recipe that would make the flowers simply marvelous. Mark was on a hunt for furniture, and Gabriel hauled home an entire catalog of wall paints.

“No, these are too crazy,” Ida said. “We didn’t do all the pinks and blues and greens back then. I’m telling you, it was eggshell.”

“I showed you eggshell. You said it was ‘too cream’.”

“Then they changed what eggshell used to be!” Frustrated, she circled the living room. “Do we need such precision? The paint won’t be the exact same one, anyway.”

“We’ll do everything we can, and we’ll do it properly.” The determination in Gabriel’s voice left no room to argue.

Is that how he was in his job? His real job, not the life he pretended to have here. This was only a game, a passing project to put on his doubtlessly long list of achievements. He wouldn’t live in this house to make use of the replanted garden and the renovated facade.

She appreciated his effort, and being busy—even if busy arguing—meant she didn’t have to think of the day when she might come back to life, but she’d be alone, starting anew in a world that never created a place for her. Being alive (again) was just the beginning. Next, she’d have to survive and deal with her old monsters.

In other attempts to distract herself—mostly while Gabriel was away—she continued to practice her control over objects. Two weeks in, she managed to control a pen skillfully enough to write her name on a piece of paper. Once she got over the horrible deterioration of her penmanship, she proudly stared at her achievement. Perhaps she couldn’t do much else, but she’d left a mark on this paper.

Outside, steps rushed to the front door.

“Gabriel! Look at this!” she called.

“… can leave the shoes on. Right in here.”

She frowned. That was Gabriel, but what was he talking about?

Then, another voice—male, unfamiliar. “Thanks, man. Ooh, cozy. Pretty sweet crib you’ve got here.”

A young man, not more than twenty, entered the living room. Someone from town? A worker Gabriel had hired for the facade, or the kitchen or garden renovation? But wouldn’t he tell her about that?

He looked a bit too hip to be a worker, too, with a baggy puffer jacket in a geometric black, purple, and blue pattern, and huge, neon-blue headphones hanging around his neck. He had light brown skin and close-cut black hair, with a pattern of lines shaved in at the temples.

Gabriel followed him into the living room. His eyes met Ida’s for a second, but he only gave a brief nod and redirected his attention to the man. “Take a seat. What can I get you? Soda? Coffee?”

“Soda’ll be just fine.”

Hmm. Not Gabriel’s relation, then.

The man spread his legs wide, taking most of the sofa; Gabriel brought a chair from the dining room for himself. “So, Perry,” he began after the drinks were distributed.

Perry. Good. We have a name.

“Who is he?” Ida asked.

Gabriel flashed her a glance. What was he trying to say? To go along with it?

“Gotta say, I never knew much about my old folks,” Perry said. “You found any of those cool old collector’s items in the attic? Maybe an Atari?”

“Possibly. There are a lot of things to sort through.”

“Cool. Can we go check it out?”

“Check out what? Gabriel!” Ida jumped to get his attention. “We don’t have an attic!”

Gabriel gave her a pointed look.

Perry twisted on the couch. “Whatcha looking at, man?”

His gaze passed straight through Ida. She knew he couldn’t see or hear her, and yet, a small spark of hope still flew up… and died, as Perry turned back.

“Nothing,” Gabriel said, halting in the middle of the word. He twitched and gave Perry his typical charming smile.

Perry looked back at Ida—or her general vicinity—then at Gabriel, and slowly shuffled away from him. “You know what, man? I’m kinda hungry, and I saw this diner in town, so maybe I’ll just—”

“No!” Gabriel overturned the chair as he shot up. “I mean, don’t leave yet.”

“What is going on?” Ida demanded.

“Dude...” Perry stood as well, extending a defensive hand toward Gabriel.

“Okay, okay.” Gabriel lifted his hands to the level of his shoulders. “Look, Perry. There isn’t a collection of items your ancestor left you. But I didn’t lie about the ancestor part. This was your family’s house, a long time ago.”

“Then what do you want?”

“It’s a bit complicated to explain.”

“Then you better make it uncomplicated, real quick, ‘cuz I’m about to get the hell outta here.”

Gabriel would make a horrible actor. Like Ida’s former tenant Martha would say, he made the most amateurish mistake—couldn’t stop looking at the camera.

Or, in this case, Ida.

“What?” she spread her arms. “I can’t tell him anything, can I? Maybe if you told me beforehand what you planned—”

“Well, sorry, I wanted it to be a surprise!”

Perry slowly turned his head, keeping track of Gabriel at the corner of his vision, as if he wanted to make sure they were both looking at the same spot. “Dude, you’re on some serious shrooms, aren’t you?”

“This is about your great-great-great-grandaunt,” Gabriel said to Perry. “Her name was Ida Huxley, and her family lived here throughout the nineteenth century and into the twentieth, until your great-great-grandfather, James, sold the house.”

Gabriel explained more about the family connections, but for Ida, it all blurred into background noise. This was Jamie’s great-great-grandson. Her blood. Perhaps all that was left of her family.

The family she’d mistreated, haunted, chased away. Harry and Jacinda may have deserved her revenge, but Jamie was innocent. And yet, she’d made his childhood miserable, and she was glad when he walked away from the house—glad, because he made Harry and Jacinda suffer more, by leaving and never coming back.

This man wasn’t Jamie; couldn’t look more different from Jamie; but still, Ida felt the overwhelming need to hug him and apologize. If only that wouldn’t make him feel like he got showered with ice-cold water… on top of not hearing her apology, either.

“So you know a lot about my family, and I’ll pretend that isn’t creepy as hell. Why’d you call me here, though?” Perry looked toward Ida again. “Wait, is this a hidden camera? You pulling some kinda joke?”

“Your great-great-great-grandaunt is not entirely gone,” Gabriel said.

Well. He sure got right down to the point.

“She’s trapped in this house as a ghost. Only you can… release her, in a way.”

“Oh, yes. Smart. The ‘bring her back to life’ part would’ve been too much,” Ida said.

Gabriel gave her a sarcastic, you-think-you-could-do-better? look.

“Yeah, definitely a hidden camera.” Perry started to retreat toward the hallway.

“She’s real. And she needs you.”

“Need me—what, like my blood? Is this some cult thing? Human sacrifice?” Perry’s gaze flicked to the half-drunk glass of soda. “You drugged me, I’m gonna wake up on the table with you ripping my heart out and offering it to the gods?”

Gabriel facepalmed, then looked at Ida. “I can see how you two are related.”

“Stop talking to the air, man!” Perry hesitated for a second more, then ran for the door.

He’s my only chance.Ida didn’t deliberate; she zoomed through the wall, clenched her fists, and felt the lock snap shut.

Perry nearly collided with the door, then rattled it as it wouldn’t open.

“Let me out!” He knocked on the door. “Help!”

“Ida…” Gabriel started.

“You said he’s my only chance! If he leaves now, we’ll never see him again.”

“And locking him in, making him think I’m some perverted kidnapper, will help?”

“Maybe if you’d managed this better, we wouldn’t be in this trouble!”

Perry’s wild eyes shifted between Gabriel and the general vicinity of Ida.

“You’re crazy. You’re all nuts!”

“See, all!” Ida pointed at Perry. “He already believes there’s more than one person in the room!”

“My friends know where I am! If something happens to me—”

“Nothing is going to happen to you!” Gabriel insisted.

Perry’s glance zoomed around the hallway until it landed on the console table. He grabbed the deer statue and pointed it at Gabriel. “Don’t move. Let me out, right now.”

No. Not the statue!

“All right, all right, calm down. Put the statue back,” Gabriel said. “Ida, unlock the door.”

“But he—”

“We’ll show Perry we can be trusted. We’ll let him out, and he’ll see we mean him no harm.”

“Aw, man, I can’t deal with this.” Perry backed away, as far as he could from Gabriel—which meant going toward the stairs.

“Just put down the statue, we’ll unlock the door, and—”

Perry retreated further, ending at the first step—but he wasn’t looking where he was going.

“Perry, no—” Ida started, but before Gabriel could warn him, Perry made another step back, tripped over the beginning of the staircase, scrambled for—and missed—the railing, fell over, and hit his head on the edge of the step.

Ida covered her mouth.

“It’s fine, he’s fine!” Gabriel ran to him. “He’s breathing, no blood. He’ll come to in a minute.”

Ida head-banged the wall. “Why does this always happen when I get involved?”

Gabriel moved Perry to the couch and pressed a cold compression to the back of his head. Ida sat on the side of the coffee table, careful not to be too close—as if Perry could wake up, see her, and freak out again.

“There you go,” Gabriel said as the young man came back to consciousness.

Perry stared at him, confused, for a few seconds, then jerked up. “Ouch.” He grabbed his head.

“Does he have blurry vision? Any ringing in his ears? Nausea?” Ida looked expectantly at Gabriel, who, with a short delay, repeated the questions to Perry.

“Nah, but my head hurts.”

“Then he most likely doesn’t have a concussion. However, he should still be careful in the next few days, in case any of the symptoms crop up.”

Gabriel conveyed that, too.

“You a doctor now, or what?” Perry asked.

“No, but she reads a lot.” Gabriel nodded toward Ida, and, before Perry could object, added, “Please. Allow me to explain.”

Perry regarded him suspiciously.

“If I wanted to hurt you, wouldn’t I have done so already? I know it sounds crazy. I found it hard to believe, too.”

“You didn’t believe there was a ghost living in your house,” Perry repeated slowly. “Then how did you come to believe it?”

“She showed up.”

“Okay.” Perry didn’t sound impressed. “Can she, uh, show up for me?”

“No one else can see or hear Ida. She’s here, right now. She’s perched on the coffee table.” Gabriel swept his hand at her.

“Right. And you can see her because you two share some special bond? Is this a kinky thing?”

Gabriel coughed.

“Oh, fine,” Ida said. “If he won’t believe it, the standard ghost stuff should do.” She closed her eyes; behind her eyelids, the light flickered, and electricity coursed through her.

“Whoa, what the hell, dude,” Perry whispered.

Carefully, Ida reached toward him, hovered her hand above his arm, and passed it through.

Perry yelped and drew his arm back.

“Enough,” Gabriel said. “We don’t need to scare him. Only make him believe.”

Perry stared at his arm, then at the lights—now working fine. “O-okay, but, how do I know these aren’t tricks? Like in fake haunted houses?”

Ida knocked on the table three times.

“Wire. Connected to your leg,” Perry said.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Gabriel raked his hand through his hair.

“The paper!” Ida remembered. “Gabriel, look, the paper!” She pointed to the scrawl of her name.

He picked it up and looked at her. “You wrote this?”

“This would’ve been hella easier to digest if you didn’t keep talking to the air,” Perry said.

“I controlled a pen. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Can you do it again?”

“Maybe.” She would, to get Perry to believe.

Gabriel explained their plan to Perry, and Ida focused on the pen. Perry stared at the paper, half-curious, half-wary.

The pen lifted from the table.

“Holy f—” Perry nearly overturned the couch as he jumped back. Slowly, straining for every inch, Ida guided the pen. I—easy. A D that looked more like an O, but close enough. A was the hardest. She drew an arch, then, with her energy almost depleted, ran a line through the middle, accidentally crossing part of the D in the process.

“Invisible writing trick,” Perry said.

“Oh, come on!” Ida put her hands against her hips.

“How about this. You say a word, she’ll write it,” Gabriel suggested. “I’ll give you another piece of paper—”

“Nah, wait.” Perry reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crinkled Gamestop receipt. “I don’t trust your thingies. Write it here. And write ‘demitasse’.”

“Seriously?” Gabriel mimicked Ida’s position.

“I won my school’s spelling bee on it.” Perry leaned back and spread his arms on the backrest.

“Demitasse it is.” Ida grabbed the pen and concentrated. One by one, shaky-lined letters emerged.

“It means a small coffee cup,” Perry said, causing Ida to laugh and smudge the last E.

“Whoa.” Perry leaned forward, his nose almost touching the table. “No way.”

“Believe us now?” Gabriel victoriously crossed his hands over his chest.

“Okay. Okay.” Perry rubbed his forehead. “So y’all are saying there’s a ghost of my great-great-great-grandaunt in here, and she just learned how to write.”

“Not a ghost of,” Gabriel corrected. “She is your ancestor. Once, she was alive—now, she’s a ghost.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care about the technicalities. What does she want with me?”

With Perry appearing calm enough to listen, Gabriel returned to his chair and explained the contract. “Now, you are the last living relative. Ida had no children of her own…”

She was still young, though. If they could restore her to life, she’d be twenty-five again. Perhaps a spinster to Harry, but in this day and age, her family life would only be beginning. She’d never thought about children intensely; it was a sort of a given, something she’d have loved to have in the future.

How adorable would they look, with their dark hair and moss-green eyes? Maybe a few of her freckles?

Oh, no. Not that again.

She stared at Gabriel, afraid her thoughts would show on her face, but luckily, he was still explaining things to Perry. Why did she have to be so, well, cringe-worthy? She was one step away from haunting a laptop and generating children on one of those websites where you uploaded the couple’s images.

She bet Gabriel would make beautiful children.

Especially him and Wynona.

“…had only one child, and that leads to you,” Gabriel concluded.

For the love of god, focus.

“Perry’s parents are not alive anymore?” she asked.

Gabriel conveyed the question.

“Nah. Died in a car crash when I was little.” Perry changed his gaze between Gabriel and a spot a bit left of Ida, as if he weren’t sure who to address. “Been bounced around foster homes a while. But I’m eighteen now, and it’s time to find my own way in the world. I mean, not that the folks who raised me were bad, not the last ones.”

“Tell him I’m sorry about his parents.” And his great-great-grandfather, too. “And I wish him all the best.”

“Thanks, a-auntie,” Perry said after Gabriel finished the message.

“We know this is overwhelming for you,” Gabriel said.

“Yeah, no shit.”

“So how about we let you think it through? You can call when you’re ready to discuss it further.” Gabriel looked at Ida. “No, he won’t escape.”

“Dude, don’t make me reconsider.”

“All the time you need. Well, as long as it’s before March 11th.”

“At least a week before,” Ida said. “After all, we do need to bond.”

Perry fidgeted with a string on his jacket.

“There’s a motel in town,” Gabriel said. “Room’s on me.”

Perry seemed to take ages, examining the receipt again, turning it toward the light, then observing Gabriel, then shifting on the sofa. “I guess I can stay for a few days,” he finally said.

Ida squealed and turned in a circle. As Gabriel accompanied Perry to the front door, she glided behind them. Jamie stood on that porch once, too, his shoulders stiff, eyes hard, as he said his last goodbye to a weeping Jacinda and a stubbornly pouting Harry. And just as Jamie’s plaid-clad back turned and headed down the stairs, so did Perry—but he bounced with an always-excessive energy of a teenager, and as he reached the wrought-iron gate, he put on his headphones and swung his head in the rhythm.

She’d do right by her family this time. The worry of her illness returning, should she come back to life, faded for the moment. She had her family back. She had hope.

“He’s a sweet kid,” she said.

“Look at you,” Gabriel teased. “Acting like a great-great-great-grandaunt already.”

She passed a hand through his shoulder, laughed at his yelp, and headed back to the living room. She had plenty of skill-honing to do.