Grave Refrain: A Love/Ghost Story (55 page)

“You were amazing. Thank you, it was the best gift ever, ever, ever. But are you all right? You looked—”

He picked her up and swirled her around, ending her speech with a kiss. He didn’t want to think of the performance.

“Andrew, did you see your mother and Neil there tonight?”

“Did they look happy?” he asked.

“Yes.”

She studied him a bit longer and placed her hand softly against the side of his face. He took her hand and kissed it. Whatever would happen would happen. He didn’t care anymore. He was with her. Once at the table, he raised his hand in greeting and received a round of boisterous hellos. Zoey was clad in something feathery and pink and sat in Christian’s lap, draping a boa around his neck. Margot, who sat beside Simon, took a moment to offer her compliments on the show before they resumed their debate over the beer list.

Dwayne, Buck, Dinesh, and Egan were already diving into what looked like a bowl of shockingly green hummus.

“Yo, dude,” cried Dwayne, the green mixture stuck in his soul patch. “Masterful manipulation of the muse, man.”

“Say that five times fast,” remarked Christian, reaching across Zoey to grab a breadstick.

They ordered and chatted about the show before Dwayne piped up, glancing at Zoey. “So, the lady here says you need some mediumistic guidance on your trip up to Noyo. Whoa, Noyo—that’s some pretty heavy stuff up there.”

“You know about it?” asked Emily, talking over him in her interest.

“Everybody knows about it. It’s like totally awesome, Muse-lady. It’s the freakin’ Disneyland of spiritualistic endeavors. They talked about it at our conference last year.”

“What conference?”

“The California Astral Liberation Coalition. We gather with the goal of liberating spirits who might be trapped and in need of directions to move on.”

“Your mater must be so proud.” Simon rolled his eyes.

“It’s a gift, man,” Dwayne said proudly.

“So do you think you can help us?” Emily asked, trying her best to ignore her supportive friends.

“I’ve been talking with some colleagues that farm up there—you know, the backyard variety…”

“Where the trees meet the sleaze.” Buck whistled.

“They say this Lady in Red is a bitch and a half. Sorry, no offense. I mean I’m all for woman power, but sometimes you just run out of words to quantify the emotion,” said Dwayne.

Andrew was starting to wonder when the last time these guys had eaten. Their appetites were bordering on frightening; even Simon seemed impressed. Dinesh spoke up, taking a breather from the dolmas that had just been delivered. “I think we need to bring some neutralizing equipment.”

Christian’s eyes widened.

“Not a bad idea,” seconded Egan, who was blessing a plate of couscous.

Christian could no longer contain himself and slammed his fists down on the table in excitement. “Seriously! You guys pack heat?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” intoned Egan, his arms bearing more bangles than Zoey’s. “I mean, Buck is still on parole for possession, so we can only carry spiritually licensed neutralizing apparatus.”

“Oh man! You mean protein packs and ecto goggles and slime blowers, you got those?!”

Dinesh and Egan did not look amused, although Dwayne did crack a smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Emily chided, anticipating a remark any second from Simon about a key-master, “let’s not insult our guests. Now Zoey, would you like to give everyone the itinerary for the weekend, please?”

Zoey handed out stapled stacks of paper. Each of their names was written in crayon in the top corner.

Dates, times, and events were listed. Andrew tried to look at his, but images from the show began to slice through his mind. The ocean, the sun blazing on rocks, the touch of a woman’s hand on his wrist. He took a deep sip of his wine, but the pictures kept lashing before his eyes.

“Where’s the free time? No free time?” Simon asked, getting a chuckle from Margot.

“It’s under ‘explore at your leisure,’” Zoey told him.

“Hmm. Not quite what he had in mind,” Christian remarked into his beer.

“We leave at seven a.m. on Friday and arrive in Mendocino around noon. We’ll be stopping at the Dia Vineyards for a wine tasting and lunch.”

Nick, let’s stop for lunch, I’m parched. And my hair, look at me, where’s my hat?

Out of nowhere, the voice rang in Andrew’s ears again as it had at the club, too real, too close. Nora’s voice. He shook his head roughly, trying to make it go away.

“She doesn’t miss a beat, does she?” Christian whispered to Emily, who smiled into her itinerary.

“Then we have a free evening in Mendocino to shop, dine or—well, whatever.” Zoey waved the word away with her hand.

Thank God, you packed the gin. Does the house have an icebox? No matter, we’ll survive.

Andrew took a deep sip of his wine.

“There, that’s what I was looking for, this ‘whatever,’ not that ‘free time,’” Simon said, smiling and gaining a toast from Christian.

Zoey ignored them and continued. “We gather at nine o’clock for breakfast bright and early on Saturday, and then we head off to the Noyo Inn where we’ve reserved a room for our séance, um…circle.”

“Righteous,” nodded Dwayne, taking his pile of steamed kale from the waiter.

“After our successful communication with the great beyond, we’ll break for lunch and then start our search. Maybe even find the Chamberlains’ house if it’s still there.”

“I feel like I’m going on a fucking supernatural scavenger hunt,” Simon huffed, eyeing his tofu burger with consternation.

“I envision we’ll find Nick’s ashes before happy hour,” Zoey said as though they would be looking for the right pair of shoes versus the mortal remains of a man whose belligerent ghost of a mother probably wanted to keep him well hidden. “Next, we’ve got dinner reservations at Café Beaujolais to celebrate. The rest is a free night, then after breakfast we’ll decide where we want to reunite the ashes and head on home. Any questions?”

“When’s the making-animals-out-of-hand-towels class?” Margot asked.

“Um, Ms. Zoey, I think you might want to keep lunch optional on that Saturday. These things could take time. Especially if the spirit is, um…” Dwayne struggled for the word.

“A bitch,” said Margot.

“Yeah, that. She could make it tough. And there’s the small problem that she wants Emily here dead. Them’s fighting words. We’ve got to be careful.”

“Andrew, are you okay?” Emily had noticed Andrew leaning back on his chair, sweat on his brow.

“That’s the first intelligent thing I’ve heard the man utter,” Andrew told her as she switched his cassoulet with her orange kebab salad, still looking at him strangely.

Nick, you needn’t drive so fast, we have plenty of time.

“Dwayne is correct,” said Egan, quieting the table. “This isn’t some weak poltergeist we’re dealing with. She’s violent, scary-shit violent, from what they say. If it gets too extreme, I’m going to end it—whether you get your information or not. I don’t think it’s wise to let her inhabit anyone—best to try to contact her directly. Chances are she’ll want to possess someone to get to Emily. We can’t let that happen. It would definitely harsh our mellow.”

They all stared at each other, not knowing whether to burst into laughter or be terrified to death.

“Now, let’s all exchange cell phone numbers so we’re all in sync,” said Zoey, trying to restore the vacation feel to their plans for the weekend.

“You need to call your boyfriend, Emily,” Margot added, munching on some fries. “Tell him you’re leaving town.”

“Excuse me?” Andrew said to her.

“It’s nothing,” Emily replied.

“I think Detective Obester has a thing for Emily. He’s been calling a lot,” Margot told him with a teasing nod.

“He knows I’m worried,” Emily insisted. “He’s a friend of the family, and there’s nothing new to report. Vandin’s still out of the country.”

“Did you tell this boyfriend of yours you were leaving the city?” Andrew asked flatly. “In case he needs to get a hold of you?”

“Yes. Now will you people please drop it?”

Nick, slow down, please!

He set down his wine glass, afraid it would shatter in his grip.

“Well, here’s to our Nick and Nora road trip!” Zoey offered.

NICK, NO, STOP!

They all raised their glasses and drank.

All except Andrew, who had fled from the restaurant and out to the street where he slammed his hands against a car and vomited.

“Andrew, talk to me.” Emily stood in his bedroom after having helped to carry him in from the car. The rest of the crowd had reluctantly disbursed once they knew he wasn’t going to die on them. They were shaken though, especially Simon, who Andrew had to practically throw out.

Andrew needed time alone to get his head together. Everything was moving too fast for him to control. The visions, this trip, the warnings, everything was crashing down around him.

“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”

“I don’t want your help, just leave me alone. I told you, it was something I ate. All I need is sleep.”

“No! I’m not going to leave you alone. You almost fainted. You nearly cracked your skull open on the sidewalk.”

“Forget it. I’m tired.”

“Please tell me this isn’t about Detective Obester, because if it is you’ve gone completely off the deep end, you know that? How can you even think I would have feelings for anyone other than you? It’s insanity. Complete insanity.”

“He seems to be pretty attentive for a cop, offering up his personal phone lines.”

“He’s a friend of the family, you know that, and he has a wife and kids. So what if he gave me his cell? I can get him any time I need him. At least he’s accessible. I thought you cared about my safety. Or are you just going to pull the whole protective male brooding crap?”

“I do care about your safety, but forgive me if I point out that you have a pretty piss poor track record when it comes to your judgment in men.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“No, nothing, what is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Vandin, you trusted him.”

“Vandin? How can you even bring him into this? You know nothing about the men that have been in my life.”

“Men? How many, then?”

“Don’t you dare stand there and judge me. How many women have you slept with on the road, Andrew? I’ve seen the way women throw themselves at you, hang around after your shows, push through the crowd to get to you. At least my relationships had meaning and lasted longer than the time it took to turn in the motel key.”

She slammed the door so loudly it nearly fell off its hinges as she marched into the hall. He sat on his bed, his skull on fire. The thought of Emily with other men caused the taste of ocean brine to fill his mouth, the sun to burn his eyes, and screams to tear at his guts. But now they weren’t Nora’s screams anymore, they were Emily’s. His room tilted on its side, and he slid from the bed. The pain in his head was excruciating, and he battled to stand on his feet, overcome with the need to reach her. Lumbering through the flat, he reached the stairway and took the steps three at a time. The conservatory door was open, and he rushed up the stairs.

The moon cast the room in ghostly iridescence. Emily sat on a wicker couch near the windows, beneath the cover of stars. He hovered above her, his heart still racing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so bloody sorry.”

“What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” he said, his voice thick and unsteady against her hair. “Nothing,” he insisted.

“I love you.” Emily lifted her hands to his face. “Only you,” she whispered. “No one else.”

He gazed at her face, her silver eyes, the strong set of her jaw framed by loose curls, and again the roar of the ocean’s waves seized him. And the image of Nora gazed at him in return, and he wanted her in that instant, ached in pain for her. So he cast it away and lost himself to pure instinct. He pressed his lips to her ear and whispered all the ways he loved her. Emily. His Emily.