Chapter Seven
Sometimes when Lina lay in bed at night, the thought of the ghost was too much to bear. Her heart pounded, her lungs constricted, and her gaze darted around the room from shadow to shadow, or, conversely, she would shut her eyes so she wouldn’t see anything. She made herself think of sunny spring days (woefully far ahead from this vantage point in mid-January) and loyal watchdogs sitting beside the bed to guard her (would Marla let her get one?). She bought a nightlight in the shape of a seashell, and felt better for its warm yellow glow, but even that innocent seashell caused her dread. What if it got switched off by invisible hands? Wouldn’t that be twice as bad as not having a nightlight in the first place?
But nothing new had happened since the phone book incident, and the nightlight always did stay on, so Lina managed to sleep even on the worst nights.
Once in a while in her dreams, she found herself kissing Ren, at which point the dream went one of two ways. Half the time he turned into something worse, like a skeleton or a werewolf or the Green River Killer, and chased her through the house with all the lights off, and she woke up in a sweat. The other half of the time, he crushed his lips against hers, hoisted her onto a kitchen counter, and wrapped her close around himself. She awoke in a different kind of sweat on those days.
She had to speak to him again.
On a morning in the middle of January, two weeks after learning of his house arrest, she sat at the breakfast bar with her coffee, pretending to read the paper. The cook, a large and scowling woman who hardly spoke to anyone but Marla, rolled out a pastry sheet on the butcher’s block while Ren stacked clean dishes in the cupboards. When the cook sent him down to the basement to get some canned apricots, Lina slipped off her stool and quietly followed.
At the bottom of the stairs, with the concrete ceiling low enough for her to reach up and touch, she took a breath of the dank air and stepped forward into the doorway of the storage room. She slid her left hand up her right sweater cuff and stroked her scars, praying for courage.
Ren looked over at her. His hands froze on the shelves.
“I guess we’ve been avoiding each other,” she said. She tried out a smile.
He pushed some cans aside to look at the ones behind them. “I guess that’s best.”
“Maybe not. I…I’ve known people with drug problems, you know. I’m a nurse. I was just surprised, because you didn’t seem the type—and I don’t mean that like it sounds, but…” She was already going about this all wrong, insulting him without intending to.
He didn’t look at her. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“I’m sorry. I only want to help. Can’t we talk like we used to, at least?”
He tugged out a huge can bearing a dusty white label painted with yellow apricots and thumped it onto the concrete floor at his feet. Crouching there, he glanced at her, then looked away. “Marla interfered because I asked her to.”
Oh, Lord. Lina’s throat swelled and her eyes stung. “You…” She swallowed to steady her voice. “You couldn’t just tell me yourself that you weren’t interested?”
He traced circles in the dust on top of the can. “I don’t want to get close to anyone. I told her to stop me if she saw it happening.”
“Why? What’s so awful about…” Lina stopped, wiped her nose, and stared aside at the faded red curtain covering the tiny basement window in the stairwell. She decided she didn’t actually want to hear his explanation on why getting close to her would be awful. He wasn’t attracted, period. “All right.” Her voice creaked. “Sorry to bother you.” She turned and set her foot on the bottom stair.
“You didn’t bother me.” His answer was almost a whisper. “You just need to forget me.”
She glanced over her shoulder.
He stood now, leaning the side of his head on the metal shelves, watching her. Dust floated in the faint beams of light from the window.
She forced a smile on top of her misery. “Fat chance.” Then she turned and fled up the stairs before giving him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
* * *
Out of pride and humiliation, Lina respected Ren’s request and didn’t try to speak to him for the rest of January. Mealtimes became a minor circle of hell. She discovered depths of acting she didn’t know she possessed, smiling and conversing with her tablemates as if unaware of the silent young man filling her water glass. She made a special point of paying attention to Gary when he came to dinner again, laughing at his remarks, telling herself she wasn’t being petty, was merely trying to enjoy life.
But it was no use. She couldn’t live like this, with ghosts on one hand and heartbreak on the other. One late January day she decided enough was enough. She would find a new situation. She had done it before. She logged onto the internet and started browsing ads, anything in the Seattle area along the lines of “Wanted: Live-in Nurse.” Though it made her queasy, she copied and pasted a few promising listings into a document file. If she felt brave after lunch, she thought, she would call and investigate them.
She roused Mrs. B from her books-on-tape to give her the midday calcium she always took. “Is it that time? Goodness,” Mrs. B said. After swallowing the calcium, she squeezed Lina’s arm in both hands. “I don’t know how I ever did without you, Lina dear. I feel so much better having you around.”
And with a twist of the heart, Lina doubted very much she would make those calls.
But she had one last test to see if fate would drive her out.
She knocked on the door to Marla and Alan’s quarters.
“Come in,” Marla yelled.
Lina entered. Instead of her lab coat for this visit, she wore old jeans and a zip-up sweatshirt, with her ponytail held by a pink band. Today she wanted to look like the plain Tacoma girl she was, no illusions of prestige.
Marla was in the middle of bills, from the look of the paperwork on her desk and the spreadsheet on her computer screen. She took off her bifocals and blinked at Lina. “Hey, kiddo. What’s up?”
Lina sat in the same armchair where she had learned Ren’s criminal history. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
Marla swiveled her desk chair to face Lina. “Okay. Shoot.”
“I wasn’t fully honest when I interviewed here.” Lina spread her palms on her knees and stared at the backs of her hands. “The reason I left Everglade was…I accidentally gave a patient the wrong medication. He died.”
Marla said nothing, so Lina added, “His family didn’t press charges. The hospital was willing to keep me on. But I couldn’t get over what I did. So I left.”
“God almighty! That’s terrible!”
Lina nodded. Her pulse pounded in her temples. “Now that you know, I’ll understand if…well, whatever you think is best.”
“Lina, you nut.” Lina looked up. Marla was staring at her with a mix of concern and exasperation. “I meant, it’s terrible what you must have gone through. You aren’t terrible. It was an accident, right?”
“Of course, but…”
“So that’s all? That’s what you came to say?”
“Yes, but shouldn’t you…”
Marla put her glasses back on and cocked an eyebrow. “Kiddo, if you want out of this place, you’re going to have to up and leave on your own. I’m not going to fire you, and certainly not over a thing like that. You’re a hell of a good nurse.”
Lina hadn’t realized it, but Marla’s simple statement of confidence in her was all she had wanted to hear. Tears filled her eyes. She gripped her knees to keep from crying. “You sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure. The way they run you poor souls ragged at those big hospitals, I’m surprised these things don’t happen every minute. Don’t beat yourself up.”
“Thank you.” Lina swallowed. “I thought you should know.”
“Things’ll get easier, kiddo.” Marla regarded her over the top of her bifocals. “Hey. Can I trust you with a new duty?”
Lina blinked to keep the tears from spilling. “Okay.”
Marla opened a polished black box on her desk, counted out a small stack of dollar bills, and handed them to Lina. “The first drawer on the right, inside the kitchen, under the breakfast bar. That’s the candy drawer. You keep it stocked, you hear?”
Lina laughed, wiping her eyes. She folded the money and put it in her pocket. “All right.”
“Good stuff only, now. Chocolate. Come in for petty cash when it gets low.” Marla winked.
* * *
Lina’s mood improved slowly as the days lengthened, but winter still reigned both outside and in. The ghost activity stayed quiet, so at least she relaxed for a while on that front. On the other—speaking to Ren—she planned to try again, just a few polite words to test the waters. Despite his brush-off, her curiosity and tenderness built up day by day, because hadn’t he thrown her a tiny crumb of hope? Wasn’t there at least a “Please save me” under all the “Leave me alone”? The more she thought about their past conversations, the more convinced of it she became.
She watched him on a February morning at the breakfast bar as he refilled her coffee without asking. He had taken to doing that lately, perhaps to show he did still like her, as he had once promised over the phone.
“Ren,” she said.
He paused. “Yes?”
“I just wondered…” She slipped her finger into the mug’s handle. “Do we have any half-and-half?” Definitely not what she wondered, but it would do for now.
He nodded. “I’ll bring it.”
“Thank you.”
He brought it, she thanked him again, and that was the end, but it was the first conversation they’d shared since she had confronted him in the basement, and she breathed much easier for it.
Her improved mood lasted only a few hours. An email that evening from Brent brought it crashing right back down.
Again the message was sent to his entire address book.
Hello friends and folks!
Well, some of you already heard and some are going to be really mad at me, but Joanne and I couldn’t wait. We got married on Saturday at the courthouse. That’s right, the deed is done! We’re busy house-hunting now, and then we’re going to take a week-long honeymoon in the Bahamas, but we’re hoping to have a little party to celebrate after that. I know it’s a long way but if anyone wants to fly out we’d love to see you! Also, no gifts are required, but since her family insisted, we did register at a couple places. I put the links below. Hope you’re all as happy as we are!
Best— Brent and Joanne
Lina hadn’t expected it to hurt. She couldn’t figure out why it should hurt. But, oh, it did hurt. She turned off the computer, grabbed her overcoat and purse, and stumbled out into the night.
Or was it rage? She walked the bustling, chilly sidewalks near the university, past neon signs, rumbling cars, loud music, and trendy shops. It felt like rage in a way—a tightness in the chest, a desire to scream, yell, and hit someone. But grief often felt like that, too, didn’t it?
She wanted to get herself a treat, a consolation. Expensive chocolate? Cosmetics? A new outfit? All too clichéd. A book? Too boring. She lifted her head and found she was outside a liquor store. She smiled sardonically and went in. Might as well pour herself into the Zuendel family mold.
It was starting to rain when she got back to the house with her paper bag. Dinner had been over for an hour—she had missed it—and the kitchen and dining room were deserted. Lina wriggled out of her coat near the breakfast bar, set her bottle of ruby port on the counter, and went into the kitchen to fetch a tumbler.
She poured herself some port and carried the drink to the steel-doored refrigerator in the pantry to scrounge some leftovers. “Least I’m not stupid enough to drink without food,” she muttered between sips. “Even if I am drinking alone.” She spotted a foil-covered tray on the fridge’s top shelf— probably the remainder of the pasta casserole that had been on tonight’s dinner menu. She tried to reach it on tiptoe, realized it would be a two-handed operation, and set her drink on the counter to tug down the tray. It slid forward, heavier than she expected, and she cursed, stumbling backward, ducking her head in expectation of casserole raining down on her.
The tray stopped before tipping over. Someone else caught it, someone with warm arms right above her ears, a white-shirted someone who smelled masculine and familiar.
“Careful,” Ren grunted, heaving the tray onto the counter. “Jeez.”
“Oh. Hi.” She felt like an idiot, then decided it didn’t matter. Ren already knew she was an idiot. Most people did, really. She sighed and peeled back the casserole’s foil. “Thank you.” She shoveled some of the pasta-and-vegetable mixture into a bowl and pushed the bowl into the microwave. As the food heated, she swigged her port. “Some days call for pasta and alcohol. You know?”
“Sure.”
She tapped her forehead. “Where are my manners? You want some port? I know you’re old enough.” She said the last sentence with irony, now that she knew he was probably closer to thirty than twenty. Still looked younger than her, though. Lucky so-and-so.
He shook his head and leaned on the door frame. “No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” The microwave beeped. Lina took her food to the breakfast bar and sat down. “So, we’re talking again, I take it.”
“Looked like you could use a listener.”
“You’ll listen to me, but you won’t talk about yourself?”
“Something like that.”
She shrugged, loading pasta onto her fork. “There are worse guys in the world, I guess.”
A smile flickered on his lips. “Bad day?”
Lina swallowed a bite of casserole and washed it down with port. “Oh, not really. I’m just wondering whether I should buy a wedding present for a guy who, less than a year ago, was my boyfriend.”
Ren winced. He walked over, opened the candy drawer, took out a handful of chocolates wrapped in valentine-colored foil, and placed them on the counter in front of her.
She laughed, then put her face in her hands. “I’m pathetic.”
“No, you’re not. We’ve all had days like this.”
“People have left you and gotten married to someone else?” Her skepticism came through in her voice.
“Yes.” He sounded calm.
She let her hands drop, and took up her fork again. “I suppose it could be. You’re…” Not twenty-two. She didn’t say it, though. She no longer felt like pointing out his mistakes and half-truths. She didn’t know his whole story, and anyway, she missed him. His presence and kindness comforted her. In addition, he was really adorable. She pushed aside that last thought. “Please, won’t you have some port? Or food, or something? I don’t want to feel like you’re the bartender and I’m the complaining drunk on the barstool.”
He shrugged, walked around the counter, and hopped onto the stool beside her. He unwrapped a miniature Mr. Goodbar and took a bite. “Mm. This is better. I agree.”
“Thank you.” Lina ate another forkful of creamy pasta.
“So. The doctor’s getting married.”
She nodded. “Brent.”
“And you want him back?” Ren folded up the red foil wrapper.
Lina slurped her port and thumped the tumbler down. “No. That’s the stupid part. I don’t want him back. But I’m mad, I’m upset, I’m…I’m a loser.”
“Why are you a loser?”
“Because…he won. I lost.”
Ren glanced aside at her, smiling. “It wasn’t a race. And you aren’t a loser.”
“He dropped me, went to Atlanta, got true love and a Bahama honeymoon and an obscene pay raise, and instead of going with him I stayed here and got nothing.” Lina shoved her empty pasta bowl away and grabbed a mini Hershey bar.
“Wouldn’t say ‘nothing.’” Ren peeled off the wrapper from another chocolate. “Gary seems like a nice guy.”
She didn’t understand for a moment, then laughed. “I’m sure his girlfriend agrees.”
“Oh. You’re not…”
“I’m not with Gary.” Her port glass was empty. She poured more. “Didn’t even get a chance.” She sipped the drink. “See? Loser.”
He shook his head, swallowing a bite of chocolate. “Got to stop saying that.”
“Why? I am a loser. I screw things up. I’m clumsy. There’s nobody I’m really close to. I’m not witty or clever or funny.” She thought of the laughing hospital staff watching her collision with Sara, and added, “Except unintentionally.”
Ren chuckled. “That remark was funny.”
“See? I didn’t mean it to be.”
“That one was too.”
Lina groaned, folded her arms on the counter, and rested her forehead on them.
Ren’s fingers stroked her ear, smoothing her hair away from her face. Her eardrums began to ring in pleasant shock, but she still caught his every word. “I shouldn’t say this or do this. But if it makes you feel better, I like you.” His voice was low, and it accelerated the delicious dizziness in her veins that the alcohol had ignited. “And I know I’m not the only one. You’ll be happy again someday, much happier than your brainless doctor.”
Lina raised her head. He was close to her, leaning on the counter while his hand slid down her neck, along the collar of her old gray long-sleeved T-shirt, fixing the tags maybe…
Oh! Not fixing tags—he was caressing her. Maybe seducing her. She realized it in a flash, and also realized that it was exactly what she wanted. With courage that could only have come from the port, she snared his neck in one arm, hauled him toward her, and dove in for a kiss.
Their lips tangled; he was kissing her right back—and within two seconds, of course, she fell off her stool. But that didn’t matter. Ren caught her, tugged her up against him, and went on kissing her. His mouth teased her lips apart; she tasted peanuts and chocolate on his tongue; his arms wound tight around her, his long hands squeezing and stroking. Without meaning to she emitted a whimper of surprise and happiness, and he echoed it, injecting what sounded like desire.
As suddenly as they had started, they stopped. Or rather, Ren stopped. He slid away and hopped onto the floor, holding her at arm’s length. She stared at him, dazed. He stared back, breathing fast, cheeks and mouth flushed.
“Bad idea,” he said. “Tempting, so tempting—but bad.”
Her head spun. “Bad? Why?”
“I can’t. You—you need to be with someone other than me.”
“I don’t want anyone else.”
“You need to be with someone who can leave the house.”
“That doesn’t matter. I’m happy staying here if you’re here. Besides, you’ll be able to leave someday, right?”
“I don’t know. I—” He paced away. “Please, let’s just forget it.”
“Can’t you tell me…”
“There are things you don’t know. Things I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, Lina, I’m really sorry, but—”
“There are things you don’t know about me too. At Everglade, I—”
“I know about the man who died. Marla told me. It doesn’t matter, no one should hold that against you.” He glanced at her as he paced. “Don’t be mad. I asked her about you. I wanted to know.” He put both hands on his head and swiveled away. “I like you, I wish I could help you, but this isn’t the way.”
“Talk to me. Please.”
He looked at the ceiling with what appeared to be misery, then turned away. “I need to go out.”
“Where? Where can you go?”
“Just…outside.” He was nearly to the pantry door already. His eyes widened when he looked back. “You should go out too.”
Puzzled, she frowned. “Why? What do you—”
“Look out!”
Even as he spoke, the port bottle flew across the kitchen and shattered. Lina leaped off the stool. “What in the…”
“Don’t stop.” His voice throbbed with urgency. “Don’t even go clean it up. Go. Go out.”
Lina stared at him. He waved her away with a flap of his hand and rushed out. She heard the back door open and close. Stung, frightened, halfdrunk, and not wishing to be left alone with the poltergeist, Lina seized her coat and ran the opposite way, out the front door and into the winter night.
He doesn’t like me as much as I thought he did , was the juvenile, pointless sentence that repeated itself in her head as she walked around the neighborhood, holding her coat’s hood up against the drizzle and wind. He would kiss her—once—but he wouldn’t stay with her. Nobody would stay with her. Oh, he was a special case, probably a criminal; she shouldn’t be so depressed and bewildered over him. But of course she was. On top of that, she lived in a nerve-wracking old house where objects liked to throw themselves around at inopportune moments—not that any moment was a great time for a ghost to throw things around. And in the basement of this eerie house lurked Ren. Beautiful, mysterious Ren, who seemed to know something about the ghost activity but wouldn’t say what, along with a thousand other things he wouldn’t say.
If only she knew what exactly had happened to him, maybe she would feel better, or at least understand. Maybe. And she needed something to make her feel better because, dear heavens, it wasn’t fair to be torn away from such a good kisser after just a few seconds.
* * *