Chapter 10
Laurie felt like a giddy schoolgirl again. She and Tara crossed the hardwood floors, passing the cases of apple cider and fresh apples in barrels. Her heart pounded as she neared Carl.
Balancing his music on a stand, he returned his baton to its black case.
Other people surrounded him, giving him heartfelt thanks.
Laurie felt as if she approached the popular guy in high school. What would she even say? She hung back with Tara, watching him.
All the other adoring fans departed. Finally, Laurie stepped forward timidly. “I enjoyed your performance.”
He focused on gathering his music but looked up. His piercing blue eyes met hers. He smiled. “Glad you appreciated it.”
Laurie wanted to kick herself. Why couldn’t she come up with something interesting to ask him?
Tara poked her. She prodded Laurie with her gaze.
Stepping closer, Laurie cleared her throat. “I’ve never heard the “Baba Yetu.” You sung it so beautifully. It sounds like it’s from another language. What does it mean?”
He kept his gaze riveted on her. “It’s the Lord’s Prayer in Swahili. Though the words in English have more reverence to them, the Africans rejoice in this praise.”
“It makes for a beautiful music.”
“Indeed it does.” He scooped up his music and baton case under his arm and walked with them away from the makeshift stage so the helpers could put it away. “It was originally composed for a video game, of all things.”
“A video game? The Lord’s Prayer?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Yes. The words are powerful, the music pulsing and driving, yet at times reverent and pleading—” He stopped himself. “You’ve got me talking about my passion. Music.”
Laurie noticed Tara fell behind. Good girl. “I don’t mind. I actually was a music major in college for a semester.”
“Oh, you didn’t continue?”
She blushed. “I came to the conclusion that I needed to get a useful skill. So I switched my major to accounting.” Her skills came in useful for the dairy. When she’d married Will, his books were a mess.
“Ah, a sentiment I completely understand, although I don’t agree that music isn’t useful. If you are interested in continuing where you left off, I teach evening classes at Champlain Community College. It’s just for fun. Not the deep theory stuff that puts everyone to sleep. We study history and modern music and sing a little. I encourage people to bring an instrument and sometimes we play songs.”
“I would like that.”
“Why don’t you give me your number so I can send you a text?”
Flushing, Laurie pulled out a piece of paper from her purse and wrote her number.
He held it and squinted. “I can’t read it without my glasses, but I’ll put it into my phone as soon as I can.”
“Carl!” one of his Keytones called to him.
Carl glanced over to his friend with a bit of disappointment on his face. “Looks like I’m being paged.” He faced Laurie again. “Tuesday nights. CCC. Seven o’clock. I’ll send you that text.”
“Thank you.”
He held up his baton case. “See you.” Carl headed toward the front entrance of the store.
Laurie turned around to find Tara. She directed helpers taking down the makeshift stage. When she saw Laurie, she raised her eyebrows. “Well, what do you think?”
“He’s nice.”
“He’s handsome.”
“And musical.”
“And he needs a good woman.”
Laurie walked over to the window to watch Carl get into his car. “But am I ready for another relationship?”
“Is anyone ready for a new relationship? It’s like swimming—you just jump in, no matter how cold the water is.”
“I suppose.” She watched until his taillights disappeared. “He asked for my number.” Only to tell her about his evening classes at CCC. But Laurie left that part out.
“That’s a good sign. Did you ask for his?” Tara stacked chairs into the corner.
“No.” Laurie cringed.
“Why not?” Tara placed hands on her hips.
“I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.” Laurie helped her stack chairs.
“Women can text men these days, you know.”
“I suppose I’m still a little old fashioned.” When Will hadcourted her years ago, she would have never had dreamed of contacting him first. “Now I have to wait for him to text.”
Charlotte stared into the embers. This time the chill snaking up her spine wasn’t from the cold but from her memory. “Just before coming here, I was blow drying my hair when I heard a click, click sound. When I looked into the mirror I saw a man standing behind me in the hall.
“I screamed. When I turned, he vanished.” She wasn’t sure how much detail she should share. “I peeked out into the hall. No one was there. I pulled back the shower curtain. No one was there. But when I faced the mirror, the ghost had written ‘sorry’ in the steam.”
For some reason, his apology meant something to her. The ghost didn’t want to scare her.
Everyone laughed. “Good one, Charlotte.” Preston grinned across from her.
“Oh, man.” Coco put a hand on her chest. “You got me. I’ll be terrified to go upstairs now.”
Preston put his arm around Coco. “Don’t worry. It’s not true. Charlotte made it up.”
“I didn’t make it up.” Preston’s words wounded her. He didn’t believe her.
Preston challenged her with a stare. “How come I’ve lived there for a whole year, and I’ve never seen the ghost?” Sometimes her brother could be a real jerk.
“I don’t know. How often do you go upstairs?”
“Maybe the ghost just likes Charlotte better than you.” Coco poked him in the stomach.
Everyone laughed again.
Charlotte knew they laughed to let out the tension from her story, but the fact that her own brother didn’t believe her irked her.
Under the blanket, Eric picked up her hand and squeezed it. “I believe you,” he whispered.
Relief washed over her. Of course Eric would trust her word. She returned the squeeze, wishing he’d put his arm around her, like how Coco and Preston snuggled together opposite of them.
“All I am saying is that if there were a ghost in the house, I would have seen it.”
“Maybe you ignored him.”
“But why would he talk to you and not to me?”
“Because I would listen?”
“Okay, siblings.” Coco held up her hands to call a truce. “Let’s talk about something else.”
But the weird tension between her and Preston spoiled the gathering.
A few of the people glanced at their watches and said they had to go as it was past midnight. Angie left with the others as promised.
Preston and Coco headed toward the car together, still wrapped in a blanket. “You want us to stay and help put out the fire?”
Eric hefted the pot off the fire that was nearly ash. “I’ve got it. It won’t take too long.”
“You coming with us, Char?” Preston stood by the car door.
Preston didn’t believe her story, and she hated being their third wheel. She turned to Eric. “Can you give me a ride home?”
Eric raised his eyebrows. “I’d love to. However, I have to wait until the fire is completely out and the oil is cool enough to transport. It might be kind of late.”
“That’s fine.” Charlotte picked up two pitch forks. “I’ll help you carry things to the truck.” She loaded the pitchforks onto the back of his pickup bed. Together, they hauled over the cooler and lifted it onto the tailgate, and Eric pushed it toward the cab.
Now that she wasn’t staring into the fire, she could see the stars like bright pops of white in a dark expanse. The crisp air whistled around the hills, filling her jacket with cold air. No one was around for miles. She could feel the stillness, the aloneness, and it made her feel tiny.
When the oil was cool enough, Eric poured it into a resealable container.
He wiped out the big pot and stashed it in the back of the truck.
Charlotte grabbed the quilts and tried the cab doors. Locked. Stamping her feet, she set them over the edge of the back until Eric came with the keys. The air, cleared of smoke, now smelled of living things and rotting leaves.
He finished loading the remainder of the things in the back. “Is it locked?”
She nodded, feeling the stress of the day weighing on her.
Eric patted his front pockets on his shirt. He frowned. Then patted his jean pockets.
“Do you have your keys?” Charlotte clutched her jacket closer in the chill.
“Angie gave them back to me, right?”
“I know she did after she got the quilt, but she might have forgotten after getting the wet wipes.”
He might have sworn under his breath. “I’ll call her.” He pulled out his phone. “No reception.”
Fatigue settled on Charlotte. Tomorrow was a big day for canvassing. Most people shopped on Saturday. She pulled out her phone.
No reception, either.
“Maybe she left them in the car.” She pointed inside the cab.
“That’s possible.”
“But we’re locked out.”
“No. I left the moonroof open.” Eric crawled into the bed of the truck, slid on his belly through his roof, and disappeared.
Remembering the ghost stories, Charlotte’s hairs raised on her neck.
After a few seconds the driver’s side door popped open.
The cab lights highlighted his frown. “No keys. At least, not what I can see immediately.” He beckoned her over.
With her phone light, Charlotte moved across the front seat, felt along the floor underneath, checked between the console and the seat as Eric did the same. But the keys were not there. “Now what?” She settled into the driver’s seat, defeated. She glanced at her phone. It was long past one. Her eyes were dried and blurred.
Eric nodded toward the road. “I’ll walk back into civilization.”
“How far is that?”
“Fifteen miles.”
Charlotte shook her head. “That’s too far. Especially at night.” Plus she didn’t want to be left alone, and she wasn’t sure she could walk fifteen miles.
He looked dubious, scratching his neck. “You got a better solution?”
“No.”
“We could sleep here until morning? Then walk out. More people will be on the road and be willing to give us a lift.”
“Uhhh.” She glanced at the two captain’s chairs in the front and the bench seating in the back. Neither looked too comfy. “You want the front or the back?”
“I’ll let you take the bench seating in the back.”
She hesitated, biting her lip. It would be so weird to have him sleeping in the same space. Wouldn’t that be a little intimate? Part of her wanted him close. The imposing woods creeped her out, especially after the ghost and the stories. His presence calmed her.
“If it will make you feel any better, I’ll sleep in the back of the truck.”
He mistook her misgivings. She glanced to the window. The trees left dark shadows around the periphery of the clearing. “Outside? It’s a bit chilly for that.”
Grinning, he held up a quilt. “I have a covering.”
She flashed him a frown, folding and spreading out the quilt on the bench seating. “Aren’t there wild animals and things?”
He shrugged. “Chances are, they won’t bother me.” He opened the car door. Light flooded the cab.
He faced her, his features partially hidden in the shadows of his hat. Oh, how she wished she could read his expression. “I’m used to sleeping outside. We go camping and fishing all the time.”
She stared at him, hoping he wouldn’t go. “Okay.” She handed him another quilt. “Take two. One to sleep on and one to cover you from the mosquitos.” She kept one quilt for herself since the chilled night air blew in the open moonroof.
He took the proffered quilts, but she didn’t let go. Oh how she wished he’d stay.
“Sleep well.” He tugged a little harder.
She let go. “Good night.”
He shut the door and the cab faded into the black.
She heard him climb into the back and move things around, wondering if the bed had enough space for him to even lie down.
After he finally settled, she laid on the bench seating in the back, staring up into the sky through the moonroof.
Did Eric feel the same connection she did? All night she’d felt close to him. Did he feel the same way? But what about Westley? Was he looking at the same sky?