Red Lily
Page 63
“I feel like everything in my life has been leading up to this, to him. The good and the bad. I can take the bad because I know we’ve found something in each other that really matters. I guess that sounds lame, but—”
“It does not. It sounds happy.”
Chapter Fifteen
THE SECONDHAND LAPTOP was a good buy, and using it made Hayley feel she was doing something active. An hour or two in research mode may not have garnered her a great deal of new information, at least as applied to her situation, but it assured her she wasn’t alone.
There were a lot of people out there who at least believed they’d had experience with ghosts and hauntings. She was already documenting an essential piece of advice from every website she’d visited. But at least with the computer she could type her reports instead of scrawling them in a notebook.
And it was fun to be able to e-mail friends back in Little Rock.
Of course she got caught up in surfing the web, much as she got caught up when scanning books. There was just so much information, so many interesting things. And one invariably led to another so that if she wasn’t careful, she’d be up past midnight hunched over the keyboard.
She had her chin propped on her elbow, her mind focused on an on-line report from Toronto of a ghost baby crying, when a hand brushed her shoulder.
She didn’t jump, held back a scream. Instead she closed her eyes and spoke in a nearly normal tone. “Please tell me that’s a real hand.”
“I hope it is as it’s attached to my wrist.”
“Roz.” Hayley let out her breath slowly. “Points for me, right, for not jumping up to cling to the ceiling like a cartoon cat.”
“That might’ve been entertaining.” She narrowed her eyes to read the screen. “Ghosthunters dot com?”
“One of many,” Hayley told her. “And really, there’s some pretty cool stuff. Did you know that one of the traditional ways to discourage ghosts from coming into a room was to stick pins or hammer iron nails around the door? It’s like they’d get caught on them and couldn’t get in. Of course, if you did it while they were already in, then they couldn’t get out.”
“I catch you nailing anything into my woodwork, I’ll skin you.”
“Already figured that. Plus I don’t see how it could work.” She scooted around, away from the screen. “They say you should talk to the ghost, politely, just ask it to leave. Like: Hey, sorry about your bad luck being dead and all that, but this is my house now and you’re disturbing me, so I wonder if you’d mind just moving on.”
“I’d say we’ve tried variations of that.”
“Yeah, no go.” When Roz sat on the sofa in the sitting room, Hayley understood she hadn’t come by just to chat about Amelia. Nerves began to drum. “Of course, they say you should document everything, but Mitch already has us doing that. And take photographs. You can hire a ghost hunter, but I don’t guess you want a bunch of strangers in the house.”
“You guess right.”
“Or you can ask a minister or a priest to bless the house. That couldn’t hurt.”
“You’re afraid.”
“More than I was, yeah. But I know this stuff”—she tapped the screen—“isn’t really helpful because what we’re doing, what we always planned to do was find out who, what, why. And if we did manage just to boot her out, we wouldn’t know it all. But I like, well, harvesting information.”
“You and Mitch, peas in a pod. Have you documented what happened the other night, with you and Harper?”
“Yes.” Heat burned her cheeks. “I haven’t, ah, given it to Mitch yet.”
“It’s very personal. I wouldn’t like sharing that sort of personal experience with an outsider.”
“You’re not. I mean, he’s not. Neither of you.”
“Anyone, no matter how you love them, is an outsider when it comes to the bed, Hayley. I want you to know I understand that. I also want you to know you’ve got no need to walk on eggshells with me about this. I waited a couple of days, hoping it wouldn’t be quite as touchy a subject.”
“I know Harper went to Mitch about it, and I knew Mitch would tell you. I just couldn’t, Roz. If it’d been anybody but Harper—not that I’d be with anybody but Harper . . . And I’m already messing this up.”
“You’re not.”
“It’s . . . Harper’s yours.”
“Yes, he is.” She propped her feet on the table, her most habitual position. “I knew when he fell in love with you, though you didn’t know, and I doubt he did.”
“I think maybe it was the night we stayed at the Peabody.”
Roz shook her head. “That’s romance, and valuable. But that wasn’t when. Who held your hand when Lily was born?”
“Oh.” Hayley lifted a hand to her throat as it filled. “He did. Harper did, and I think he was almost as scared as I was.”
“When I saw, and I understood, my heart ached. Just for a moment. You’ll know what I mean when it’s Lily’s turn. And if you’re lucky, as I’m lucky, you’ll watch your child fall in love with someone you can love, and respect and admire, be amused by, feel close to. So when your heart aches, it’s with happiness, and gratitude.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t know how I could get any luckier than I already am. You’ve been so good to me. No, please don’t brush it off,” she said when Roz shook her head. “It means so much to me. When I came here, I thought I was so smart and strong, so ready. If she kicks me out, I thought, I’ll just keep going. I’ll find a job, get an apartment, have this baby. I’ll be fine. If I’d known what it takes—not just the hours, the effort, but the love and the worry that just fills you up when you have a child, I’d’ve thrown myself at your feet and begged for help. But all I had to do was ask.”
“I gave you a job and a place to stay because you’re family, and because of the situation you were in. But that’s not why you’re still here. You earned your place at In the Garden, and your place in this house. Make no mistake, if you hadn’t, I’d have shown you the door.”
“I know.” And knowing it made Hayley grin. “I wanted to prove myself to you, and I’m proud that I did. But, Roz, because I have Lily, I know what Harper means to you. And part of the reason I’m scared, more scared than I was, is I’m afraid The Bride might hurt him.”
“It does not. It sounds happy.”
Chapter Fifteen
THE SECONDHAND LAPTOP was a good buy, and using it made Hayley feel she was doing something active. An hour or two in research mode may not have garnered her a great deal of new information, at least as applied to her situation, but it assured her she wasn’t alone.
There were a lot of people out there who at least believed they’d had experience with ghosts and hauntings. She was already documenting an essential piece of advice from every website she’d visited. But at least with the computer she could type her reports instead of scrawling them in a notebook.
And it was fun to be able to e-mail friends back in Little Rock.
Of course she got caught up in surfing the web, much as she got caught up when scanning books. There was just so much information, so many interesting things. And one invariably led to another so that if she wasn’t careful, she’d be up past midnight hunched over the keyboard.
She had her chin propped on her elbow, her mind focused on an on-line report from Toronto of a ghost baby crying, when a hand brushed her shoulder.
She didn’t jump, held back a scream. Instead she closed her eyes and spoke in a nearly normal tone. “Please tell me that’s a real hand.”
“I hope it is as it’s attached to my wrist.”
“Roz.” Hayley let out her breath slowly. “Points for me, right, for not jumping up to cling to the ceiling like a cartoon cat.”
“That might’ve been entertaining.” She narrowed her eyes to read the screen. “Ghosthunters dot com?”
“One of many,” Hayley told her. “And really, there’s some pretty cool stuff. Did you know that one of the traditional ways to discourage ghosts from coming into a room was to stick pins or hammer iron nails around the door? It’s like they’d get caught on them and couldn’t get in. Of course, if you did it while they were already in, then they couldn’t get out.”
“I catch you nailing anything into my woodwork, I’ll skin you.”
“Already figured that. Plus I don’t see how it could work.” She scooted around, away from the screen. “They say you should talk to the ghost, politely, just ask it to leave. Like: Hey, sorry about your bad luck being dead and all that, but this is my house now and you’re disturbing me, so I wonder if you’d mind just moving on.”
“I’d say we’ve tried variations of that.”
“Yeah, no go.” When Roz sat on the sofa in the sitting room, Hayley understood she hadn’t come by just to chat about Amelia. Nerves began to drum. “Of course, they say you should document everything, but Mitch already has us doing that. And take photographs. You can hire a ghost hunter, but I don’t guess you want a bunch of strangers in the house.”
“You guess right.”
“Or you can ask a minister or a priest to bless the house. That couldn’t hurt.”
“You’re afraid.”
“More than I was, yeah. But I know this stuff”—she tapped the screen—“isn’t really helpful because what we’re doing, what we always planned to do was find out who, what, why. And if we did manage just to boot her out, we wouldn’t know it all. But I like, well, harvesting information.”
“You and Mitch, peas in a pod. Have you documented what happened the other night, with you and Harper?”
“Yes.” Heat burned her cheeks. “I haven’t, ah, given it to Mitch yet.”
“It’s very personal. I wouldn’t like sharing that sort of personal experience with an outsider.”
“You’re not. I mean, he’s not. Neither of you.”
“Anyone, no matter how you love them, is an outsider when it comes to the bed, Hayley. I want you to know I understand that. I also want you to know you’ve got no need to walk on eggshells with me about this. I waited a couple of days, hoping it wouldn’t be quite as touchy a subject.”
“I know Harper went to Mitch about it, and I knew Mitch would tell you. I just couldn’t, Roz. If it’d been anybody but Harper—not that I’d be with anybody but Harper . . . And I’m already messing this up.”
“You’re not.”
“It’s . . . Harper’s yours.”
“Yes, he is.” She propped her feet on the table, her most habitual position. “I knew when he fell in love with you, though you didn’t know, and I doubt he did.”
“I think maybe it was the night we stayed at the Peabody.”
Roz shook her head. “That’s romance, and valuable. But that wasn’t when. Who held your hand when Lily was born?”
“Oh.” Hayley lifted a hand to her throat as it filled. “He did. Harper did, and I think he was almost as scared as I was.”
“When I saw, and I understood, my heart ached. Just for a moment. You’ll know what I mean when it’s Lily’s turn. And if you’re lucky, as I’m lucky, you’ll watch your child fall in love with someone you can love, and respect and admire, be amused by, feel close to. So when your heart aches, it’s with happiness, and gratitude.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t know how I could get any luckier than I already am. You’ve been so good to me. No, please don’t brush it off,” she said when Roz shook her head. “It means so much to me. When I came here, I thought I was so smart and strong, so ready. If she kicks me out, I thought, I’ll just keep going. I’ll find a job, get an apartment, have this baby. I’ll be fine. If I’d known what it takes—not just the hours, the effort, but the love and the worry that just fills you up when you have a child, I’d’ve thrown myself at your feet and begged for help. But all I had to do was ask.”
“I gave you a job and a place to stay because you’re family, and because of the situation you were in. But that’s not why you’re still here. You earned your place at In the Garden, and your place in this house. Make no mistake, if you hadn’t, I’d have shown you the door.”
“I know.” And knowing it made Hayley grin. “I wanted to prove myself to you, and I’m proud that I did. But, Roz, because I have Lily, I know what Harper means to you. And part of the reason I’m scared, more scared than I was, is I’m afraid The Bride might hurt him.”
