Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
A week later, the ghosts—excluding Naomi, who told them that she refused to watch horror movies in life, and definitely wouldn’t watch them in death—decided to attend the Float and Fright Movie Night.
Thus far, Silas found himself decidedly unimpressed.
“I don’t care for this,” he stated, trying and failing to clutch the handles of his inflatable pool ring. He didn’t like being on the lake in the dark. “I can’t swim.”
Lila, lounging in hers, rolled her eyes skyward and stretched out a leg to admire it—silk stockings and, as they’d been told, her best pair. “Stop fussing, it’s not like you are going to die.”
Ruby, sitting cross-legged in a chair-shaped float, looked at him. “I heard that you got into trouble for pushing Wren’s ex the other night, Captain.”
Silas sighed. Yes, he’d been pulled into a meeting with the Bureau of Post-Mortal Conduct, where he’d been informed that his behavior was a disappointment.
He’d acted contrite, but truthfully, he wasn’t sorry.
His actions had created the necessary chasm between the doctor and the dancer.
However, and unfortunately, Dr. Trafford was no nearer to returning to work than he’d been before.
Lila trailed her hand through the water. Or tried to. “Has she made up her mind which man she will choose?” she asked.
Ruby’s eyes glowed, the way a woman’s eyes always did when they had gossip to share. “I happened”—Silas snorted at the lie, she’d been eavesdropping—“to hear Wren talking to Poppy on the phone. Poppy told her that she didn’t have to make a choice. Not yet anyway.”
“I don’t understand,” Lila said, confused. He was relieved she inquired, for he had not the faintest understanding himself.
“Poppy told Wren that Alex could wait for her answer, that she didn’t need to give him one now. That she could take her time to make up her mind. And that she could carry on seeing Dane as well.”
“Wouldn’t she then be stepping out with two men?” Lila demanded. Silas didn’t know why she sounded shocked; from what he’d heard from Cedric, the spectral historian, Lila had kept quite a few gentlemen dancing to her tune. Concurrently.
“Apparently she’s allowed to explore her options,” Ruby said airily. “This must’ve resonated with Wren, because, after dance practice yesterday, she asked Dane whether he’d like to watch this movie with her tonight.”
“You have been busy,” Lila said, approvingly. She clapped her hands in appreciation. “Excellent work, Ruby!”
“But she cannot be courted by two men at the same time!” The Reverend spluttered. “Surely she must concentrate her energy on one man at a time.”
Silas agreed with him. And he’d prefer the dancer to focus her attention on the gentleman from the city.
Ruby released a sigh. “She’s not seeing Alex yet, she’s still deciding whether to restart her relationship with him. She’s attracted to Dane and wants to explore that, too.” Ruby looked at Silas, then turned her gaze to The Reverend. “Women have the freedom and autonomy to do that now.”
He didn’t hold with any of that nonsense.
A woman should be guided by her husband or father, or another man of good character.
Men were clever, rational, courageous, and sensible, while women were more tender, physically frail, and prone to emotional outbursts and instability.
Of course, men should make decisions on behalf of the weaker sex, it simply made sense.
“And Dr. Trafford agreed to this?” Silas asked.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Ruby asked. “He wants to spend as much time as he can with Wren. How can he get her where he wants her without being around her?”
Silas frowned, utterly bewildered. “But where does he want her?” he asked.
“Oh my God,” Ruby muttered.
He’d blundered. He could see it in Ruby’s extravagant eye roll and Lila’s amused expression. Yet he could not, for the life of him, determine how. The glance Miss Ruby exchanged with Miss Lila—he is entirely at sea—confirmed his suspicion that no explanation would be offered.
Very well. He required none. He was very used to being baffled by this century’s quickly shifting perceptions and rules and lax attitude to morality.
Silas, back straight and legs stretched out, unable to relax, cleared his throat. Lila looked at him and smiled. “Aren’t humans peculiar creatures? Here they are, bobbing on the lake in a bunch of air-filled tubes, all so that they can scare themselves silly.” She sighed.
“Why do they spend so much time trying to understand the afterlife, while paying little attention to the life they are actually living? If I could go back, I would do things differently.”
That was a philosophical question for another day.
Silas had another question. He gestured to the massive screen on the bank.
“Please be so kind as to explain this to me?” he asked.
He made a point of avoiding the social gatherings of humans, but when he heard the doctor and the dancer would be present, he loftily agreed to join the others on the water.
Miss Lila obliged. “A moving picture’s gonna show up on that screen and tell a story. This one even talks. You’ll hear the actors yakking away.”
“And it’s about ghosts?” Silas asked.
“It’s about a writer and his family staying at a hotel, and their holiday is disrupted by an evil presence,” Lila replied, leaning back. “It sounds like ripping fun.”
“I saw it when I was alive,” Ruby told them. “And I didn’t sleep for a week. I spent most of the next week on my knees, and I’m not the religious type.”
“Scaredy cat,” Lila taunted her, trying to flick water at her face. Nothing happened, the water went straight through her hand, and she pouted.
“Sometimes being dead isn’t any fun at all,” she muttered.
Silas nodded to the dancer and the doctor, who were walking down the bank. “I see that they have finally arrived. They are late.” To Silas, tardiness was a sin.
The humans reached the bank, and each grabbed a float. “Separate floats?” Lila wailed. “Spoilsports.”
“I think that is entirely appropriate,” Silas stated.
“Pfft,” Ruby scoffed. “I expected better from him, he should’ve gotten a boat built for two. That way, they could talk, they could cuddle. He could make her forget about her old friend and dance partner.”
It was obvious the women were firmly aligned with Dr. Trafford. “Exactly!” Lila agreed. “How am I supposed to live vicariously through them if he doesn’t do any proper courting?”
He understood women not at all, Silas decided.
He watched Dane and Wren paddle over, aiming for the back of the already large crowd. Dane’s foot brushed Lila’s float and sent her spinning halfway across the lake.
“Really?” she whined. “How am I supposed to get back?”
Silas sighed, slipped out of his float, ghosted across the water, and nudged Lila back behind the doctor and the dancer. But neither the dancer nor Dr. Tragic noticed the empty inflatables drifting toward them with slow, steady purpose.
Then Lila grinned wickedly, and Silas’s heart sank. “Maybe this is a good time to create a little havoc,” she said.
Oh, good Lord, he could see himself having to face the Bureau of Post-Mortal Conduct for only the second time in one-hundred and sixty-plus years.
* * *
Dane waded into the lake, pushing his inflatable tube, the bottom half of his T-shirt sticking to his stomach and hips.
He watched as Wren boosted herself into her donut tube, her pretty, transparent cover-up not hiding much of her toned, bikinied, dancer’s body.
He looked away, glad that the darkness hid his semi.
A week had passed since the ice cream event, and at dance practice, he’d kept his distance. It had been hell.
Not only because he missed Wren, but because, and despite not wanting to, he’d sat through two excruciating therapy sessions with the Humanatus psychologist. And instead of exercising to relieve what felt like ants were crawling under his skin, he’d sat with his emotions. They hadn’t been fun company.
Like him, Wren needed time to process. And to decide.
She’d surprised him when she’d walked up to him yesterday after practice, her water bottle in her hand. “Doing anything tomorrow night?” she asked, her words more rushed than normal. After he told her no, she spoke again. “Want to watch a movie with me?”
He met her eyes, needing to know where her head was at. “Made a decision, then?” he asked.
She shook her head, and her expression turned stubborn. “No, and I don’t have to. He can wait, and if you don’t want to spend time with me, say so.”
He admired the fact that she was standing her ground, with him and with dickface. And he wasn’t stupid enough to push her. If she wanted to spend time with him, he was going to say yes.
So here he was, about to watch The Shining.
He’d read and loved the book, and seen the movie years ago, but he’d never imagined watching it again—floating on a not-so-firm inflatable donut on the lake, the big screen glowing on the shore, sound booming from two massive speakers, and next to a woman he was, admittedly, a little obsessed with.
Dane handed Wren the cooler he’d brought and the container of popcorn drizzled with red syrup meant to look like blood.
He boosted himself into the tube, his ass hitting the thankfully warm water, and looked over at the dark lake stretching into the distance, the nearly full moon hanging low in the sky.
It was a pretty night, calm and clear and so warm, perfect for a lake-based, outdoor movie night.
Naturally, the weather would never have the balls to defy Luna by misbehaving.
He shook his head at the witches’ hats, the stuffy black cats and the skeletons sitting with humans on their inflatables. H?Town tourists and residents took Halloween a bit too seriously.
Dane swished his hands through the water and came up alongside Wren, took the cooler from her, and placed it between his thighs. His breath hitched at her joyful expression. She was loving this.
“Having fun?” he asked.