Chapter 22
Danny’s fingers were playing along my bare shoulder when I woke the next morning, the sunlight assaulting the drapes.
I laid there for several minutes, my eyes barely open against the onslaught of day as Danny ran his fingers along my flesh.
Between the central heat and the warm blankets, I felt flushed and his fingers felt like fire on my skin.
A delicious fire that threatened to spread if I didn’t stop him before it caught.
“You know, we could just stay in bed all day,” Danny murmured, propped up on one elbow beside me in bed.
He was on the side closest to the window, blocking any draft that might somehow sneak into the house. That only made me feel cozier and warmer.
“The Lunch Counter can stay closed for one day,” he cooed. “And you would only have to cook for two today.”
I looked up at him, amused.
“I never cook breakfast at the diner,” I said. “And The Lunch Counter is always closed on Sundays.”
He frowned down at me; his head cocked to the side.
“If you paid attention to me when I wasn’t nude, you’d know that,” I said.
“Don’t start that,” he grinned and leaned down to kiss my forehead. “I thought we finished that over dinner.”
Ignoring a conversation while we filled ourselves with carbs and minimal vegetables was not finishing a topic in my mind. However, it was early, I was starting to wake up, and I didn’t want to begin the day annoyed.
“Well, it’s closed,” I said. “I wasn’t leaving the house today, anyway.”
“What I’m hearing is you’re free to whip up a breakfast to help me recharge,” Danny said.
He laid back his hands behind his head, a sly grin on his face.
“You know,” I replied as I rolled over under the covers to look at him, “someone has to help the people in this town who can’t help themselves.”
He rolled his eyes, though I could tell he wasn’t being completely dismissive.
I’d known Danny long enough to know that he didn’t hold a single bad thought in his head for the unhoused and struggling populations of Sage Grove.
The town itself is what held his ire. The citizens were simply collateral damage to that anger.
“Who will help people if The Lunch Counter wasn’t there?” I asked.
“Who’s going to help them when the last business in this town finally shutters and the town becomes deserted by everyone but them?” he asked.
I stared at him.
“Are you going to stay here and wither away with them?” he asked, looking over at me. “Or are you finally going to look out for number one?”
“Well,” I said softly, “it would be a lot easier to look after the people in this town if certain people stopped shuttering the buildings, right?”
“Not this again.” Danny groaned. “Mom hasn’t closed up any more of the buildings she owns since Dad died. That was all him. She isn’t doing anything to hurt the people down at the camp and you know it.”
“She’s not helping as much as she could,” I mumbled and laid back.
“Dad closed that run down inn,” Danny said. “So what? Mom owns fifteen other buildings in this crap town and she isn’t doing anything with them, including closing them off. They’re just tax write-offs to her at this point. She doesn’t care who’s sleeping in them at night.”
“The county is posting—”
“She can’t stop the county from posting notices,” Danny grumbled, sitting up in bed.
“You know, she pays you five days a week to swindle her so you can make food for them, free of charge. I’m not expecting you to give her a crown and throw a parade, but she’s doing more than anyone else in this hellhole. Except, maybe, you. Let it go.”
I took a deep breath, steadying myself, swallowing my anger, before sitting up.
“I’m not swindling her,” I said simply. “Your dad never appears when I try to summon him for her.”
Danny wasn’t unamused, but he rolled his eyes.
“Swindler,” he said.
He was teasing, but it cut deep.
“Believe what you want,” I said.
“Make me a believer then, Si,” he said. “Prove to me you can talk to ghosts.”
I stared at him, then down at my lap.
“Summon my dad,” he said. “Right now.”
“Ghosts can’t come in the house,” I replied, simply.
“That’s not true,” Danny chided me. “There’s one in here now, according to you. Came in via the cupboard. Right?”
“Right,” I gave him a nod.
He snorted. “So?”
“It found a loophole.”
“Then let’s go outside,” Danny said. “Okay. Ghosts can’t get into the house without a loophole. Let’s go outside. Right now. Summon my dad. Talk to him. Make me a believer.”
Reaching down, I grabbed my boxers and slid them on, then stood from the bed. When I got to the bedroom door, I turned and looked over my shoulder at my still naked…whatever…in my bed, watching me expectantly. The mix of desperation, sadness, and a sprinkle of disbelief in his eyes pained me.
“You coming?” I asked.
“We’re…you’re going to summon Dad?”
“I’m going to make you breakfast.”
Then I turned and left my bedroom. I’d gotten out some sausages, put bread in the toaster, and retrieved the eggs and butter from the fridge before Danny entered the kitchen.
Seeing that he’d only put on his boxers and socks let me know that I hadn’t upset him enough to make him want to leave, even after breakfast. I was pleased, but also unsure if I wanted to be pleased.
Having Danny stick around the house all day and enjoy the things I would do for him excited me.
Knowing that, eventually, we’d both realize that it would never be enough, made me sad.
One day, maybe so far in the future that it ruined the life we both could have had, things would end.
There would be no changing it or fixing it.
My brain told me that I was intentionally setting myself up for heartache. Something else, that I wasn’t so proud to be taking advice from, told me to see how it all played out.
Danny sat at the table, his legs spread out in that way that only guys who haven’t been beaten down by life enough spread their legs, and waited.
I toasted and buttered the bread liberally, fried up the sausages, and scrambled eggs with some Fontina cheese and chives and butter.
Finally, I set two plates on the kitchen table.
One in front of Danny, and one in the seat across from him.
He smacked his lips, looking down at his plate. Before he could grab his fork, I took his face in my hands and let them slide up to his hair. I stroked his soft brown hair and pushed his head back to look up at me.
“Did you like your father when he was alive?” I asked.
Danny stared up at me. He said nothing.
“What makes you think you’d like anything he had to say now?”
Danny’s eyes darted away for a moment, then settled back on mine.
“Death doesn’t change people,” I said, softly.
“There’s no great reveal at the end of life that makes a person rethink their ways.
To revisit their transgressions or hurts.
They aren’t punished for any pain they caused others—not that I’ve seen.
They’re not suddenly honest or forthright.
They don’t suddenly become upstanding human-like beings just because they died.
They don’t always plead for forgiveness and understanding and seek out those they wronged and make things right. ”
Danny’s eyes bore into mine.
“In fact,” I said, gently stroking his head to ease what I was about to say, “death, from what I’ve seen, reminds them that there are no real consequences left. Death can make people even worse.”
He looked down but my fingers stayed twirling in his hair, attempting to comfort him.
“It’s the uncommon soul who sees death as a second chance.”
I let my hand slide from his hair, caressed the side of his face gently, then slid into the chair across from him. Picking up my fork, I wasn’t sure I was even hungry, but I dug into my eggs. I didn’t even manage to lift the fork from my plate before Danny spoke.
“Are you scared of the idea of dying since you’re a medium?” he asked quietly.
When I looked up, he was staring at me apprehensively.
“No,” I snorted. “It makes me more afraid of living.”
My statement seemed to affect Danny in a physical way and an expression I’d never seen on his face before flashed for a split second. He looked down at his plate, grabbed his fork and jabbed at a sausage.
“You could always move up to Dubuque,” he said. “It’s less than an hour. I mean…be closer to me. I wouldn’t have to keep coming down here so often. The internet is everywhere. You could do business there, too. Your sister ran away from this town. You could, too.”
“And leave all this?” I waved my hands grandly. “I’m rent-free, baby.”
Danny chuckled, and I joined in. Then we both dug into our plates.