Chapter 20
Cassie
We order our pizza along with a liter of Diet Coke. While we wait for the delivery, we settle onto the couch and decide on a movie to watch. He’s astounded that I’ve never seen any of the Marvel movies.
“Captain America?”
“Nope.”
“Bucky? All the ladies love Bucky.”
“Is Bucky a horse?”
“No, he’s the hot bad guy who turns good.”
“Okay, I gotta see this Bucky dude.” I do a Google search and pull up Bucky’s image. “Much better than I was imagining.”
“See?”
“Not my type though.”
The doorbell rings and Luke goes to retrieve our pizza. He returns with two large boxes and a bag holding our liter of Diet Coke. “The pizza stays in here,” he says from the kitchen. “Korg isn’t polite when I leave food on the coffee table. Dog slobber doesn’t pair well with garlic.”
I wince at the thought of Korg’s drool on my mozzarella. “Yum,” I say when I walk up behind Luke. I thread my hands between his arms and torso and enjoy the solidness of his abs.
He turns and offers me attention in the form of a kiss, and then he collects the plates, forks, cups, and napkins and motions for me to dig in. I pile my plate with three slices of pizza and two breadsticks. “Don’t judge,” I say. “Kayaking made me hungry.”
“I’d never judge you or your food choices.”
He fills our cups with Diet Coke and grabs a few slices of pizza while Korg begs at his feet. Luke throws the dog a bite of ham. “You’re going in your crate, buddy.”
I saunter back to the couch while Luke takes care of Korg. A moment later, Luke sits next to me. I agree to watch a Marvel movie, and his eyes light up.
“We have to watch them in order,” he says.
“How many are there?”
“Thirty-eight.”
I almost drop my pizza.
“We don’t have to watch them all tonight.”
I giggle at the implications. Just like that, I’ve committed to a long-term relationship with Luke. The thought doesn’t bother me. Instead, I feel an unexpected peace. I sink into the couch, satisfaction rendering a soft smile on my lips.
While we’re watching Iron Man, Luke pulls a gray chenille blanket from his front closet and drapes it over our legs. We scoot together until his arm wraps comfortably around my shoulder. I grab his free hand under the blanket, and we lace our fingers together. As time passes and our body heat mingles, I can feel the faint thrum of his heartbeat through his palm.
The movie ends, mercifully, not because I didn’t enjoy it, but because I can hardly keep my eyes open. Luke fiddles with the DVDs in his library until he finds the right one. He pops the disc into the machine and rejoins me on the couch, DVD case in hand.
I catch the title. “The Incredible Hulk? You’re kidding, right?”
“He’s a Marvel character. He’s been around for a while. Did you ever watch reruns of that show from the eighties?”
“There was an Incredible Hulk show in the eighties?”
Luke puts on his best grouchy face. “Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
“Is that how it went?”
“Every episode. I binge-watched them after we broke up.”
“So, you’re telling me this movie about a giant grumpy green guy is good?”
“Alliteration. I like that.”
“Thanks. I did it on purpose.”
“It’s not just good. It’s great.” He pulls the blanket over our laps.
“Better than Iron Man?”
“Did you like Iron Man?”
“Sure. It was okay.”
Luke widens his eyes at me.
“These movies are sacred to you, aren’t they?”
“I binge-watched them after we broke up. So, yeah. I guess they are. I have them all on DVD.”
“It sounds like you spent a lot of time on the couch after we broke up.”
“If ‘a lot’ means ‘all,’ then yeah.”
I turn my face away so Luke can’t see me smile. I don’t have much sympathy for the Luke who cheated on me, but I want to spare the new Luke’s emotions. I take a moment to relish the thought of him stuck on the couch after our break-up, and then I change the subject. “What comes after The Incredible Hulk?”
“Iron Man II.”
“Of course,” I say with a tired laugh.
“We don’t have to watch them if you’re bored.”
“I’m not bored.”
He scoots away so he has a better look at my face. “I can tell by the glazed look in your eyes that you’re lying.”
“No, I’m just tired. What time does Betsy usually start moaning?”
“Right,” Luke says slowly like his excitement over the Marvel franchise made him forget the real reason for this overnighter. “Usually around three or four o’clock in the morning. Which means we have...” He glances at his smart watch. “Five more hours.”
I can’t suppress a yawn.
“We can call it a night.”
“No.” I cover my mouth and shake my head. “We can watch two more movies, right? And then hopefully Betsy will start haunting up this place.”
“You sure?”
I manage to stay awake through The Incredible Hulk, and long enough to watch Luke feed Iron Man II into the DVD player. Then, what feels like a second later, I feel Luke nudging my shoulder. I open my eyes as the credits roll up the screen.
“I missed it?” I say groggily.
“Yep.”
“All of it?”
Luke chuckles. “I think ghost hunting will have to wait for another night. Let’s get you to bed.”
“No. Betsy. I want to meet Betsy.” My words are slurred.
“You already met her in the kitchen.”
“But...” I don’t have the energy to continue.
He helps me off the couch and props me up as we head to the stairs and ascend to my bedroom. At my door, we pause. I lean against the wall and Luke closes the gap between us. He places both hands on my hips and steps closer, shuttering my view of the world with his broad shoulders. My heart wakes up and begins pumping fresh blood. Suddenly, I’m alert, acutely attuned to the sensations Luke stirs in me. I push myself off the wall into his arms and we kiss. Afterward, he cups my cheek.
“I had a great time today,” he says.
“Do you want to come in?” The words tumble out. It’s a bad idea, and the rational Cassie knows it, but her voice is becoming exceedingly small the longer I take in the scent of Luke’s cologne as my face is inches from his chest.
“You’re tired,” Luke says.
“Not anymore.”
Luke flits his eyes to the open doorway and then back at me. “As much as I’d love to, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“When did you become so reasonable?”
He breathes deeply. A faint smile etches his face as he looks down at me. “When I realized what’s important.”
I scoff but attach it to a smile. “I hardly know this Luke.”
“I know.” He places his hands on my shoulders and pivots me toward the open bedroom door. “Get some sleep.”
“Fine.” I sigh. I peek at him until the door latches, and then I climb into the bed that he graciously prepared for me. The empty bed.
I’m wide awake.
Thoughts of Luke thread through my mind. Memories of the kiss we shared just minutes ago. I flop to my side and clutch the comforter that still smells brand new, trying to clear my thoughts, but all I can see is Luke, his bare chest glistening with sweat.
Maybe just one more kiss?
I slide out of the bed and tiptoe into the hallway. Nightlights line the walls, beckoning me toward the stairway. I descend the steps, cringing at every creak of the antique floorboards like I’m a teenager sneaking out of the house.
At the bottom of the stairs, I swing around and head toward Luke’s room. There are no nightlights here. He must have installed them upstairs for my sake.
A couple weeks ago, Luke was a no-go. Off-limits. Nuh uh. Not him again. And now I’m sneaking to his room.
Pastor Ellis’s voice rings in my ear. Pastor Ellis who is not afraid to preach about touchy subjects, like obeying God in difficult situations.
Pushing his voice out of my head proves much easier than pushing away my yearning for Luke. I reach his door and rest my hand on the knob. It’s cold under my touch, original to the house no doubt. Antique brass tarnished to a dark brown. It was golden and shiny once, free of the residue of time’s passing. I study the ornate pattern with my thumb, trying to make out the design.
We’re trying to start over, create a new normal, a new future. Kissing him in the privacy of his bedroom could lead to making out, and making out could lead to...
I curse. Then I turn and head back to the staircase.
I only make it a few steps before an otherworldly sound makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up like an angry porcupine’s quills. The eerie groan seems to lack a source, but rather emanates from the surrounding walls, like the woodwork absorbed some tragedy and needs to vent its sorrow.
Poor Betsy and her broken neck. It must have been so traumatic.
The groan tapers and a new utterance fills the hall, higher this time, not quite a screech, but almost. Like Betsy falling down the stairs and crying out in pain.
The skin on my arms breaks out in chilled bumps. I feel someone’s eyes on me. Some thing’s. The floorboards creak, likely not due to the house settling.
I try to calm my pulse and relax my core muscles, which are cinched like a corset, and then I spin to confront Betsy’s ghost. A shadowed form looms over me. Its hands claw my biceps.
“What is wrong with you!” I hiss. Luke releases one of my arms and presses his index finger to his lips.
“Don’t scare Betsy.”
“What do you mean, don’t scare Betsy? You just scared the heck out of me!”
“Sorry,” he says.
Another groan sounds from the walls around us and it sends ice down my veins.
“You live with this?” I whisper.
Luke nods. His features are shrouded by darkness, but I can tell his eyes are open wide. I can also tell he’s not wearing a shirt. “What are you doing down here?”
“I came down to kiss you again.”
The shadowed traces of Luke’s eyebrows inch toward the ceiling. He points to his chest. “Me?”
“Don’t worry. I changed my mind.”
“I wouldn’t have let you kiss me while I’m in my jammies.”
“You wouldn’t have been able to resist.”
“Yes, I would have. I’m a changed man.”
A low growl seeps from the walls, much more menacing than the previous groans. Every hair on my body stands up like quills ready to eject. “I’m not sure Betsy’s friendly.”
Luke clears his throat. “Betsy?” he says tentatively. “Is that you?”
“Don’t try to talk to her,” I warn. “You might upset her.”
“I’m going to tell her to go to the light.”
“I told her that earlier, but she’s still here.” More supernatural groans accompany my hushed tone, and then another sound joins in—the nerve-rattling howl of a feral cat.
“Lou Lou is here now too,” Luke whispers.
“The ghost cat?”
He nods.
I listen more closely as the cat continues to wail. There’s something different about this sound. Unlike the groaning, which seems to come from everywhere at once, the cat’s crying seems to come from below, from a fixed point.
“I don’t think that’s a ghost. I think it’s a real cat.”
“A real ghost cat.”
“No, I mean, it’s coming from below. From your crawlspace.”
I crouch next to a nearby floor vent and turn my head to listen more closely. “It’s definitely louder down here.”
“Great, the ghost cat is in my crawlspace.”
“It’s not a ghost cat. It’s a real cat. In your crawlspace. Have you ever gone down there and checked?”
“That’s a definite no.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t like spiders. Or dead bodies. The cat or the human variety.”
“We need to check your crawlspace,” I say. “Where are your flashlights?”
“I’m supposed to have flashlights?”
“In case of emergencies? Like hurricanes?”
“We have hurricanes here?”
I lower my forehead to my hand. “Oh my gosh.”
“It’s the 21st Century. Our phones have flashlights.”
“Where’s your crawlspace entrance?” I ask as I stand.
“Around the back. Do you realize how old this house is?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So, I’m telling you. There are dead things under there. Ghost cat is probably the least of them.”
“I’m going to get my phone.”
We agree to meet outside. I dash upstairs and grab my phone off the nightstand and then I run back down and out the back door. Luke is standing by a ground-level, lean-to structure. The peeling paint reveals wood that looks as old as the house.
I join Luke who is peering skeptically down at the covered entrance.
“Head in,” I say. Literally. He’ll have to go headfirst. Crawlspaces were named “crawl” for a reason, especially under older houses.
“I’m going in?”
I give him my Gary Coleman what-you-talkin’-bout face. Diff’rent Strokes is the one 80s show I happened to watch when Madison and I were kids.
“I thought you were going in,” Luke says.
“You’re the guy.”
“But—I—”
“Go ahead.” I nudge him with my elbow. “I’ll stay here and make sure you don’t get snatched up by a poltergeist.”
“That makes me feel better.”
“Actually, I’m no match for a poltergeist. You’re on your own. I’ll stand here and point my flashlight into the opening.”
A look of regretful acceptance settles onto Luke’s handsome face. He turns on his phone’s flashlight and shuffles to the crawlspace opening, shoulders slumped. “If I don’t come back, tell my mom I love her even though she walked in on our make-out session.” He pauses before kneeling to hoist the wooden covering. “You know. We could go back inside and finish that make-out session.”
“You’re stalling.”
He heaves out a deep breath. “Fine.” He lifts the sheet of aging wood and scoots it out of the way, revealing a gaping black portal to the underside of the house.
I flip on my phone’s flashlight and point it into the darkness, which swallows the beam in short order. A feral meow sounds in the pitch black.
“Oh no,” Luke says.
“It’s not a ghost.”
He shakes his head before diving in.
“Bring back a kitty.”
“I just want to bring my soul back. Intact, ideally.”
I tap his butt encouragingly with my toe right before he disappears under the house.
As Luke navigates through the cramped space, he makes a variety of utterances ranging from “Gah” to expletives that would make Granny wince.
I lower my body to the ground and poke my head into the darkness. “What’s it like under there?”
“Scary,” Luke calls back. His voice is pinched, like his lungs are flattened between the floor joists and the dirt.
“Do you see anything?”
“Cobwebs. Trash. Scariness.”
I stifle a laugh. I wouldn’t crawl under this house for a million dollars, but I’ll never admit that to Luke. He’s being a good sport. Also, I can’t allow a cat to struggle. If it weren’t for Luke, I’d be calling animal control.
More feline sounds travel along the musty current of air flowing from the crawlspace. Rather than mournful wailing, this sounds like a cat on guard.
“Uh,” Luke says, his voice muffled by the distance. “Cassie?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not going to believe this.”
“What?” I jump up to my knees in anticipation.
“We have kittens.”