Chapter 13
Lanston
Yelina and Poppiewalk over to the piano and slowly sit on the ebony bench. Ophelia looks around the room for any signs of Charlie as she circles the floral sofa and sits quietly beside me.
Part of me still thinks they’re pulling a prank on us.
Though it’d make sense, and of everyone, I’m the least likely to know. I’ve been avoiding the music room for years. The only memories brought back to me are of Wynn and Liam playing those sad songs they enjoyed so much.
“Charlie, are you scaring the residents again?” Yelina calls out playfully.
Poppie has a content grin on her face, but Ophelia wraps her hands around her elbows, still not so sure about this. The feeling is mutual.
A key taps repeatedly at the end of the piano—the low-pitch startling Ophelia straight into my lap. My smile is instant and I secure my arms around her to assure her I’m here.
“Charlie!” Poppie laughs and puts her hands on her hips. Yelina offers her hand to the air and a phantom forms—a broad-figured man, probably mid-twenties, with short blonde hair and glasses that make him look intelligent.
Hardly what I imagined he’d look like.
Charlie presses a kiss to the back of Yelina’s hand and winks at Poppie. Both girls giggle as he lets his attention wander over to us. Ophelia remains in my arms, seemingly unwilling to budge.
The phantom smirks at us and says, “Sorry about yesterday. I couldn’t help myself when I overheard all your theories.” His voice is low but filled with an airy weightlessness.
I raise a brow. “Did Crosby really kill you?” The question is harsh and sudden, but I have to know.
Charlie’s features fall, turning cold and pale. “Yeah, along with my friends.” Yelina and Poppie frown beside him and let their hands rest on his shoulders.
Ophelia slowly rises from my lap and stands before Charlie. The top of her head only reaches his neck. She asks softly, “Why are you still here, Charlie? Do you know how to pass on? Where are the others?”
His lips flatten with thought. Then he nods his head to the chairs and sofa. “Let’s all sit down and I’ll catch you up.”
Ophelia returns to her spot beside me while Yelina and Poppie take the two lounging chairs across from us. Charlie sits on the floor to finish the small circle we’ve inevitably created.
Folding his hands together in his lap, Charlie says, “The others left after the murders were solved. Anger and rage are what held us here. So, after the bodies were found and Crosby was killed, we were able to pass on. But I can’t leave until I find my picture of Lucie. Crosby hid my satchel with everything I cherished. He liked to play cruel tricks on us.” His tone fills with grief.
Picture of Lucie? He’s stayed all this time for a photo?
“Can’t you just go see her?” I ask.
Charlie shakes his head and looks longingly out the windows. “I don’t know where she is out in the big world… We were going to get married once I got better. But then I was declared missing for a decade. She probably thinks I ran away and left her and everything behind.” He pauses and seems lost in thought. “I just want to see her one last time before I go.”
Ophelia’s eyes flicker over to me. They’re filled with sympathy and I already know she wants to help him. I love that she carries her heart on her sleeve, even if she thinks she doesn’t.
“Where have you looked? Where’s left?” Ophelia asks, leaning forward and taking Charlie’s hand in an effort to comfort him.
“You’d help me?” He looks at the four of us and we all nod.
I can’t help but think how sad it is that his ghost has been reluctant to leave over a simple photo. Can our reasons to linger truly be so small? It must be more than that.
Yelina adds, “Of course, we’ll help. It’s everyone’s goal to pass on, after all.”
He smiles and relief relaxes his face. “I’ve searched Harlow thoroughly so I doubt it’s here. I have a feeling he hid it somewhere in Bakersville, but I never knew the places he frequented.”
My veins chill like frost slowly freezing a river. I know one spot we can look.
“The lookout,” I mumble.
Poppie looks at me. “The what?”
“I know where we can look in town.” I stand, eager to get there and help Charlie find the peace he’s been deprived of. This may be the answer we’ve been searching for. If finding it allows him to pass, we will finally have something to work toward.
If the photo works for him, maybe the bucket list will work for me. I hesitantly let my eyes lift to her—she who is so damaged and broken like me. Maybe we can find our peace together.
Ophelia notices my enthusiasm to find the photo. Her expression softens on me and she stands as she says, “Let’s go look.”
Ophelia borrows a loose-fitting, cream-colored shirt from Poppie and high-waisted denim jeans from Yelina. The front of her shirt is tucked and she ties her hair back with a cream and pink floral hair tie.
I stare at her as she walks over to me with two paper cups in hand, admiring her tattoos and wondering if I am the moth or the butterfly.
We parked on the main street and decided to indulge while we were here. I’ve been waiting on the bench I tend to frequent when I feel like people-watching. Five years. It’s still so much the same as it was when I was alive. The slow life of a small town, the stress-free grins of the townsfolk who enjoy this quiet place. I envy them and their ignorance of the ghosts that observe their day-to-day lives.
“Here you are, no cream like you so insanely requested.” Ophelia hands me the drink, and I grin at her.
“It’s an acquired taste,” I say like a dignified asshole. She glowers and rolls her eyes before I nudge her with my shoulder. “This is a cute town, isn’t it?”
She sips her hot drink and nods as she sweeps the shops with her eyes. “It’s a shame all those bad things that happened here tainted its name. I heard that tourism went down and some shops suffered because of it. But the Fall Festival is still a hit.”
“You hear a lot of talk around the city, don’t you? I’m starting to think I’ve been roomed with a bar fly.” I wink when she glares at me and her expression lightens again.
“I usually hang out in cafés actually. It’s nice to see friends getting together after a long time apart or sisters catching a quick lunch between shifts.” She smiles, her lips still pressed to the lid of her coffee cup. “It’s a good way to get caught up with the latest buzz too, you know?” She looks at me and I nod.
We’re so similar, yet so different. I like to sit here on this bench that no one ever visits and wallow in silence, while she spends her time in busy coffee shops just to enjoy the frequency people give off when they’re chatting and laughing together.
She’s the light. I am darkness.
She’s the butterfly,I decide. I am the moth.
The real question is, will we catch each other or will we continue to chase one another in a dreary cycle? I suppose time will lend us the answer eventually, but I’m in no hurry. I quite enjoy this journey I’ve found myself on with her.
As the thought leaves me, I glance down at her and find her soft brown and green-speckled eyes studying my face. She quickly looks away as if I’ve caught her red-handed and I hide my amusement by taking a long sip from my coffee.
It’s all I can think of doing to keep from kissing her. The careful stolen glances that she takes to observe me light my skin on fire and burn into my core. I want to hold her hand and whisper sweet things to her, press my lips against the crook of her lithe neck and tenderly bite her just enough to get her writhing.
Wait—stop. Don’t think of that now.
I clear my throat. “Well, shall we go to the lookout?” I ask with a shaky voice and hurriedly stand. She’s a beat behind me, at my side in the next.
We walk down the main street, passing shops and parlors before the neighborhood district. Then a few blocks until we reach the bottom of the cliffside. The cement stairs have been seared into my memory. I’ve been here many times, in life and after. I remember every shrub and lamp post, every crack and new ones that have formed over the years.
My eyes always flick to the temporary apartment that Wynn and I stayed in before everything ended. The owner sold the building a few years back and now it’s just a storage unit.
I look up the stairway and to the railing of the lookout above. Nostalgia overwhelms me tonight. I’m revisited by thoughts of Liam and Wynn, tattoos and pink hair.
“You okay?” Ophelia’s hand smooths down the side of my arm and brings me back to the present. “It happened up there, didn’t it?” she asks softly.
I nod sadly and murmur, “Yes, and I’ve been here many times since. I just feel so—” I pause because I can’t put a word to it.
She gives me a weak smile. “Sad?”
“Yeah… I guess so.” It’s close enough. But other emotions mingle with the sadness.
“It’s okay to be sad, Lanston.” She squeezes my arm reassuringly and then walks ahead of me, ascending the steps as she says, “I’m sad too, more than I care to admit.”
I follow behind her and try to focus on looking around the underbrush for any sign of a satchel. Though, now that I’m here I think it’s stupid that I thought to look here. Where would someone hide a satchel out here without it being found or destroyed by the environment?
“Yeah? Why are you sad?” I ask absently, letting my eyes wander. Somehow, they end up on her.
She stops once we reach the parking lot at the top and turns, giving me an inquiring look. “I’m sad because I wish you hadn’t died here, Lanston.” She stares off toward the tainted field. “But you did.”
A cold breeze ruffles my hair and sends a chill down my spine.
“I did.”
“And now we have to make the most of it.” Ophelia faces me stoically, the wind moving her hair over her shoulder. “I’m happy to have met your ghost. You are the first person to make me feel…” her brows pull together as she thinks.
“Less alone?” I take a step toward her. The earth could tilt on its axis and still I would not move from this spot—from where she stands, mere inches away.
Her features soften.
“Like I was never alone,” she confesses and closes the space between us. The last threads of the sunset caress our cheeks.
Her lips part and she looks up at me with hooded eyes.
I want to kiss her. Desperately. But I don’t want to ruin what little trust we’ve built between us already. So I give her a mild grin and look around the parking lot. “Let’s check around the rock retaining wall and around the lot,” I breathe out, sounding disappointed with myself.
She frowns, and I know it then that I made her feel unwanted. Shit. I’ve been out of the romance game for so long now. I open my mouth to say something, anything, that might fix the awkward silence that ensues, but she turns sharply.
“Sounds good. I’ll look over here,” she says coldly.
Goddamnit.