Give Up the Ghost Page 8

  Chapter 6

  After my kind doctor and nurse fill me up with diet recommendations, prenatal vitamins, and a lecture on taking care of myself, since my blood pressure was higher than normal, I’m released. My backpack now has a variety of brochures on bringing twins into the world, but I plan to visit the source. As I’m walking down that long driveway back to the road, thinking of the call to my mom, I find myself dialing another number.

  My brother picks up on the first ring.

  “Vi! Weird.”

  “That’s a strange way to say hello.”

  “I was just thinking about you.”

  “That is weird. I was just thinking about you too. Hence the call.”

  “Funny.”

  One thing I love about my twin brother, Sebastian, he gets my sarcasm.

  “Why were you thinking about me?” I ask.

  There’s a long pause and I sense something’s wrong.

  “Sebastian?”

  He exhales. “I quit my job.”

  My first question is why quitting a plum job as an assistant chef at Commander’s Palace in New Orleans makes him think of me, but instead I ask, “What happened?”

  There’s that pause again.

  “Sebastian?”

  Suddenly, he perks up. “Wanna meet me somewhere? We haven’t spent time together in ages and I need to get out of this town.”

  I perk up too. Road trips do that for me. Especially ones with my crazy twin.

  “Why don’t you come here? We have a spare room.” Then I think of Emma’s gorgeous artwork I saw this morning. “Or better yet, let’s meet in Chattanooga and then come to the Cove. There’s an art museum I really want to visit.”

  “I haven’t been there since Dad took us to Rock City when we were little.”

  I can’t help but smile broadly at the memory. “That was so much fun. Remember the gnomes inside the mountain?”

  We both start laughing. Hard. Rock City offers gorgeous trails, flowers, and a view of several states from on top of Lookout Mountain but there’s a section where you go underground and view little gnomes and fairy villages. My parents and older sister Portia thought the scenes ridiculously corny — all three are highly intelligent and look down on simple amusements — but Sebastian and I adored them. We created a gnome village in our backyard when we returned home to New Orleans.

  “So, Chattanooga?” I ask.

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Seriously, you’re coming up?”

  I’m doubtful because Sebastian evacuated to Atlanta during Hurricane Katrina and found a new life working for celebrity chefs. He would always say he was coming to visit but rarely came home, flitting in and out of our lives as he worked exciting jobs around the country, ending up in Hawaii as a contestant on a reality show. When our absent father came home last fall, and our parents looked like they might reunite, Sebastian showed up, announcing his new gig at Commander’s. I always had a feeling he longed for family, but not New Orleans.

  “I’ll pack now,” he says. “I’ll find a hotel and text you the information. You have time to pop over?”

  “I always make time for a road trip.” I think about how much I miss my twin, especially these past three years. “And you.”

  I try not to cry, because I’ve missed him like crazy. I look up at the lovely maples at the end of Mahoney’s driveway and wipe my eyes.

  “Vi, what’s wrong?”

  One thing about being twins, you always know what the other’s thinking. In our case, we’re not identical — obviously since we’re boy and girl — and this special talent hasn’t worked well in the past few years since we were both traveling in different directions. But right now, I’m feeling his pain and he’s picking up my emotions.

  I swallow hard and push the tears away. “I’m pregnant. With twins.”

  There’s a loud yell on the other end and I move the phone away from my ear.

  “Vi, that’s awesome!”

  It really is, and now that I’m relating news instead of worrying, a broad smile stretches across my face.

  “They have their own placentas, so chances are I’m having a pair like you and me.”

  “God help us.”

  We laugh some more and talk about how Mom laid guilt trips on us.

  “‘Y’all were double the trouble,’” Sebastian mimics.

  “‘If I had a nickel for every time y’all cried at the same time,’” I add.

  We laugh at the memory and I conveniently ignore the fact that I’m in for the same scenario.

  “Does TB know?”

  Crap. He’s on his way to pick me up after I called and said all was fine, that I’d explain everything when he arrived.

  “I need to go, Sebastian. He’s coming to get me at the doctor’s and I should have told him first.”

  “Maybe. I am your favorite twin.”

  As if on cue, TB turns into the driveway. “Gotta go. My ride’s here.”

  “See you tomorrow,” he says and hangs up.

  “Wait, what?” But Sebastian is gone.

  I climb into TB’s pickup and he looks at me with wide eyes, no doubt holding his breath like I did in Mahoney’s office. I can’t help but release a giant smile. TB instantly pulls me into his arms. We sit like this for what seems like an eternity until another patient trying to leave Mahoney’s politely honks. We pull apart and TB backs down the driveway, turning on to the road toward home while wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

  “So, healthy?” he asks.

  “Very.”

  He’s smiling for all the world and it warms my heart that we’re at least past this hurdle. What’s down the road may be another story.

  “There is something I need to tell you.” That smile doesn’t budge so I gather up the courage. “We’re having twins.”

  His eyes grow to the size of citrus and he looks at me with astonishment.

  “The road, TB. Keep your eyes on the road.”

  My sweet husband, who was ever so happy a moment ago, starts to hyperventilate.

  “Pull over,” I tell him, and he does. When the truck comes to a stop I force his head down. “Breathe!”

  TB slowly pulls in air and exhales but there’s tension throughout his body.

  “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. My mom went through this and Sebastian and I are just fine.”

  He finally regains control and sits up. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “Me?”

  He pulls a hand through that thick blond hair. “There’s added risks when you have twins, isn’t there?”

  I think there are added risks for me and the babies, but I don’t want to add fuel to his fear. I can’t help wondering if he’s picking up on something divine. Descendants do that, sense danger ahead of it happening.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m healthy. My blood pressure’s a bit high, but that’s fine.”

  He looks at me with concern. “That’s not fine.”

  Again, that sense he knows something. A chill runs through me.

  “Are you cold?” he asks.

  I give him a look, but when we start down the road again TB insists I wear his jacket and he pumps up the heat. Now, I’m hot, but I say nothing.

  “You have to stop traveling,” he says after a while.

  “What? No way.”

  He’s dead serious.

  “I’m not giving up my traveling, TB. That’s insane.”

  “It’s dangerous, Vi. And what if things progress when you get closer to the birth?”

  “I’ll deal with that then, like July. Jeez, TB, you’re overreacting.”

  We’re silent for a while and then I think of Sebastian.

  “Speaking of traveling, I talked to Sebastian and we’re meeting in Chattanooga tomorrow. I’m going to try to convince him to come home with me, if that’s okay with you.”

  “Of course, but why not just let him come here?”

  We pull into our parking spot and home. I grab my backpack but before
leaving the truck, turn and gaze at my worried husband.

  “I’m taking the train, the one the tourists use between here and Chattanooga. I doubt it will be an issue.”

  I thought logic would finally filter through but he’s gazing at me like I’m piloting the Space Shuttle. The skunk crawls over my grave, as my Aunt Mimi likes to say, and I shiver again.

  “It’s cold. Let’s go inside and I’ll show you my ultrasound pictures.”

  We do just that but that uneasy feeling stays with me through the night, even as I’m calling every family member to tell them the happy news.

  * * *

  The next morning, I wake and pack. Sebastian texted me in the night to relate that he’ll be heading out of New Orleans at daybreak and should arrive in Chattanooga early afternoon. The tourist train leaves Lightning Bug at ten so I should get to Chattanooga about the same time since the train inches along the mountain passage and there’s lunch service. It’s expensive, more focused on tourists with money, but I’ve connected with the Tennessee tourism folks and they arranged a comp ticket for me since I’ll write about the experience.

  TB drops me off at the Lightning Bug train station, but he idles the truck and doesn’t say a word.

  “We’re not back to you thinking I should stay home barefoot, are we?”

  He finally looks at me, a shocked look on his face. “I’m not like that, Vi.”

  I give him a sweet kiss. “I know, sweetheart, but your worrying is worrying me.”

  “I want you to be safe.”

  “And why do you think that’s not so?”

  He shakes his head, does that hand in the hair thing. “I don’t know. Something feels off.”

  I kiss him again, take his face in my hands. “I’ll be fine. I’ll be with Sebastian.”

  “Oh, that’ll make all the difference.”

  Did my husband just offer sarcasm?

  I decide to change the subject. “Do you have your revised English paper with you?”

  He nods but he’s not smiling. I kiss him again before he has time to doubt himself. “Your rewrite was awesome.”

  “Thanks to your help.”

  “And yours! It reads great to me so I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

  The train does its smoke exhalation thing. Time to go. I exit the truck and pull my small travel bag from behind the seat. TB rushes around and takes it from me.

  “Don’t be silly, I’m not helpless.” But I let him, all the way to the train entrance.

  We kiss again, I assure him for the umpteenth time I’ll be safe and eat my veggies, then I enter the historic train, climbing aboard the metal steps like those women in the old black-and-white films. I turn to do the nostalgic wave but TB’s already headed back to the pickup.

  There’s two families with children in the first car I enter and there’s lots of noise so I keep walking. The next car contains two elderly couples and a gaggle of middle-aged women wearing tiaras with what looks like wine bottles peeking out of their bags. Since I’m looking for peace and quiet I keep moving, thinking I’ll circle back to the second car if what’s in the last doesn’t suit me. But it does. There’s a lone man in the front row and a quiet couple not far behind. The back stretches open with nary a person. Perfect.

  I choose the back row — the only thing behind me now is the caboose — and get comfortable. It’s an authentic train from the 1940s and I choose a section with one of those four seaters where four people can face each other. I prop my legs on the unused seat across from me and pull out my laptop. I still have that story to write about Wisconsin and I’ll be taking notes as we travel to Chattanooga.

  The conductor, or a man dressed in an old conductor’s uniform, gathers tickets from the passengers, then a young man looking fresh out of college arrives with a cart, offering coffee and pastries. Of course, I take both, but make my coffee decaffeinated with cream, still thrilled to find the morning sickness gone. The conductor comes on the intercom and announces our trip to Chattanooga, the stops we’ll take, and what we’ll experience along the way. I must say, I’m excited as heck.

  We start out, slowly at first, making a fuss with the train horn as we travel through Lightning Bug. We’ll be stopping at the neighboring town to pick up passengers and then we’ll pick up speed, the conductor explains. The couple in front of me jumps up to tour the train and I gaze out the window, legs stretched out in front of me on the seats, and wave to the children on the street.

  It’s then a shadow crosses my lap and I realize someone has taken the seat across from me.

  I look up to find Dwayne.

  “Hey there, Vi.”

  I jump to a sitting position, the laptop falling to the floor.

  “You should be careful with that. Those things are expensive.”

  I’m staring into those cold blue eyes beneath a camouflage hunter’s cap, that scar Stinky gave him stretching from one eye down to his chin.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing.” He shifts in his seat, getting comfortable. I panic thinking he may be traveling to Chattanooga.

  “Don’t worry. I’m getting off at the next stop so I won’t be here long.”

  I keep my eyes on the man but reach for my purse with my left hand. It’s on the seat next to me but I can’t seem to locate it.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  I pause in my actions. “Do what?”

  “Grab your phone.”

  I swallow and move my hand back to my lap, but gaze over the rows of seats to see if that man’s still in the front row.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Vi.”

  This makes me laugh. “Did you forget the knife you used on me in Natchez when you tried to slit my throat?”

  “It didn’t have to come to that, you know.”

  “Right, I just needed to steal a few souls from the ghosts I help to keep you immortal.”

  My voice has risen because I’m scared as hell. Dwayne looks around to make sure we’re alone, then leans in close. I, in turn, lean back but there’s nothing but seat behind me and a window to my right.

  “I tried to help you, what did you expect me to do?”

  I laugh again, but it comes out nervous. “Uh, not kill me?”

  “You could have had everything. Seen your daughter. Be with your daughter.”

  That old pain returns full force. The one thing I desire more than life is seeing Lillye again. But at what cost?

  I shake my head. “I’m not stealing souls for you.”

  He gives me a weird smile, one that chills me to the bone. “I think you will.”

  I slide my hand across the seat next to me but I still can’t find my purse. I look over at the man in the front row and wonder if he’ll hear my screams over the noise of the train.

  “Vi.” I look back at Dwayne, who’s perfectly calm. “I need you to do something for me.”

  I huff. “Yeah, right.”

  “You owe me.”

  I’m starting to gather up nerve, although I have no idea where it’s coming from. “I don’t owe you squat.”

  He runs a hand across his scar. “You did this to me. And I’m not used to having my looks marred.”

  If I’m not mistaken, his confidence slipped a bit. And mine has lifted. A bit.

  “Poor Dwayne. A cat messed up his pretty face.”

  He leans in closer and I can smell that heady aftershave he uses, the kind I once thought was intoxicating. Today, I feel like gagging and it’s got nothing to do with my pregnancy.

  “I need a soul to make this right. And you’re going to give me one.”

  I wonder if he’ll kill me if I say no but I shake my head anyway. I will never bow down to this man ever again.

  “No way.”

  He smiles and leans back in his seat. “Thought you would say that.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “To convince you otherwise.”

  Now, I’m frightened
down to my toes. He feels it, smiles knowingly.

  “You’re going to give me a soul or I’m going to make sure your daffy husband not only doesn’t graduate from college, but has a nice tumble off a mountainside or an accident on the way to school.”

  “That’ll never happen,” I say with way more confidence than I feel. “He’s a descendant. He’ll know you’re coming.”

  Dwayne cocks his head and grins. “He didn’t know I was coming today, did he?”

  I think back on how TB hesitated in the truck, but why didn’t he follow through? Did he not sense Dwayne in the vicinity? I don’t know how angel descendants work but I’ve seen TB’s focus go elsewhere and then he disappears, only to return saying he saved a person from a car accident or something.

  “He’s an idiot and easily manipulated,” Dwayne adds.

  I want to dispute this fact and defend my husband but deep down I know Dwayne’s right. TB isn’t the brightest crayon in the box, even though he carries Archangel Michael’s DNA from both parents. He loves unconditionally and is generous to a fault, but sometimes he can’t manage toast.

  “He’s not much better than that stupid lumber jack FBI agent,” Dwayne continues. “What’s his name?”

  “Clayton?”

  Dwayne smiles as if he’s enjoying this banter. “Clayton Ginsburg. Couldn’t find me if he was sitting next to you right now.”

  “You’re wrong. He’s on your tail.”

  Dwayne’s cockiness falters again and he turns solemn. “Get me a soul or dear dumb hubbie goes bye-bye.”

  I shake my head and lie. “I don’t know of any ghosts.”

  Again, that creepy smile. “Find one.”

  “I can’t just pull a ghost out of thin air.”

  “Oh Vi,” he says, examining his fingernails. “You live in a town full of ghosts. Surely you know that.”

  I don’t know jack crap about Emma’s Cove but I would have seen ghosts had they been there. “You’re wrong.”

  He stops picking his nail and looks at me with narrowed eyes. I used to be entranced by those deep blue orbs. Today, their gaze feels like ice water sliding down my back.

  “You two. Such potential and yet so incredibly stupid. You haven’t a clue what power you possess.”