Sticks and Stones (7 page)

          Tilda chuckled.
“Poppet, I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

          “Me?” Grace
mumbled.

          “It’s well
after seven at night and I know you haven’t eaten and frankly Gracie, you look
like hell. Have that handsome man take you out for dinner and go home and get
some rest.” Tilda’s eyes swept over Rick. “Or other things.”

          Grace’s cheeks
turned red. “Aunt Tilda,” she cautioned.

          Reginald
flipped the backs of his hands at Grace. “Go, I’ll be here in the event Matilda
needs anything.”

          Grace
whispered, “No disrespect Reginald, but you’re a ghost. I hardly think you can
help her if she needs it.”

          Reginald gasped
indignantly and Tilda interjected. “Dear, he doesn’t like to be called a ghost.
He prefers the word
spirit
, don’t you, love?”

          Reginald nodded
glumly and stared intently at the call switch for the nurse. He wore a smug
look when a nurse quickly appeared.

          “I stand
corrected,” Grace acknowledged. “Okay, I’ll leave, but if you need anything…”
She pinned Reginald with a glare and whispered, “You’d better let me know!”
Grace leaned over and placed a kiss on her aunt’s forehead. “Blessed be,” she
said softly.

          “Blessed be,
love. Take care of my Poppet, Rick,” Tilda rasped.

          He held out his
hand to Grace and nodded to Tilda. “I fully intend to.”

*        *        *

          As Rick stuffed
another slice of pizza into his mouth he watched Grace pick at her food.
“Poppet?”

          Grace’s eyes
lifted from her plate. “Huh?”

          “Your aunt
called you ‘Poppet’.”

          She grinned and
his heart warmed. It was the first real smile he’d seen all day. “It’s a term
of endearment. She’s called me that since I was a child.”

          “Ah…and how
long have you been able to talk to ghosts?” he asked, placing his beer mug onto
the checkered table cloth.  “My friends, Emily and Chase, can talk to ghosts,
too.” He laughed and shook his head. “Ghosts, witches…when do the sparkly
vampires and muscle bound werewolves enter the equation?”

          Her lips
twitched and she broke out into a full belly laugh. In fact, she laughed so
hard tears ran down her face. He held a napkin out for her to dry her eyes.
“Oh, that was good. Thanks, I needed that,” she guffawed.

          He smirked,
“Anytime.”

          Grace cocked
her head. “Sooo…you don’t seem shocked by any of this.”

          “Hey, it is
what it is. I’m pretty open-minded.”

          Grace took a
bite of pizza and pondered his comment. Ben accepted her being Wiccan to a
point. He didn’t believe in ghosts, let alone her ability to see and
communicate with Reginald.

          “Aunt Tilda
cast a spell years ago to meet her one true love. In the process, she conjured
up Reginald and oddly enough, he turned out to be the love of her life,” she
explained before taking a swig of beer. “Anyway, it drove me crazy when she’d
talk to him and I couldn’t see or hear him. So I cast a spell and now I can
communicate with him.”

          Rick’s eyebrows
lifted. “No shit?”

          “No shit,” she
grinned.

          “Just him or
can you see others, too?”

          Grace shuddered.
“Others too. I tend to avoid hospitals because of it. Too many souls in various
stages of the afterlife floating around. Kinda creeps me out.”

          Rick stared at
her in rapt attention. “So, could you cast a spell on me so I can communicate
with ghosts, too?”

          She cocked her
head. “I suppose I could, but why?”

          He shrugged,
“Like I said, Chase and Emily talk with ghosts.” Rick took a swig of beer and
laughed, “I feel out of the loop when I’m at their house and they’re carrying
on with these ghosts of theirs.”

          Grace tucked a
strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t believe Chase Storm talks to ghosts.”
she whispered.

          “Yeah. It’s a
long story and I’m not even sure if I’ve heard it all.” He wiped his mouth with
a paper napkin. “Maybe someday I’ll introduce you to Emily and she can explain
it to you.”

          “I’d like
that,” Grace murmured as she took a bite of pizza. Her thoughts turned to
earlier in the day. “I saw Ben today.” Rick cocked his head, encouraging her to
continue. “I had a bad dream about him. Anyway, I have a feeling his wife is
practicing black magic and I wanted him to know.”

          Rick nodded
slowly. “So, ya think you two will get back together?”

          She took a long
swig of beer. “No. The thing is…he kissed me before he left and I didn’t feel
anything.”

          “Like?” he
prompted.

          Grace shrugged,
“Well I used to get butterflies when he kissed me. Today I felt nothing.”

          He grinned,
“Did you feel anything when I kissed you?”

          Grace shifted
uncomfortably. “Rick…”

          Rick lifted his
shoulders. “ Ah, I won’t kiss you again. It might get to be a habit and I can’t
get rid of habits.” He took her hand into his. “Grace, I find you to be an
interesting woman. Most of the women I meet are, well, air-heads.”

          She took a swig
of beer. “So what are you trying to tell me?”

          “I get that
you’re not into me romantically, but I’d still like to be your friend. ‘New
friends can have a great time together than old friends’.”

          “Fitzgerald
again?” she grinned.

          “Loosely,” he
shrugged. “So, friends then?” he asked, nudging her foot under the table.

          Grace shrugged.
“I don’t have many friends. Aunt Tilda says I have trust issues.” Rick cocked
his head, encouraging her to continue. “Ben and Janice were my best friends.
Now they’re married to each other.”

          “Ouch,” Rick
said softly. “Sorry.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’d like
to be your friend.”

           “Friends,” she
stated, gripping his hand firmly.

          “Friends,” he
agreed, but hoped for more.

*        *        *

          Rick wasn’t
used to driving slowly, but he enjoyed talking with her and didn’t want the
night to end. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way with a
woman.

          A smile formed
on her lips. “So…how does one get the name of Ricochet? Do pucks bounce off you
and come back or what?”

          “Sometimes…” he
replied slowly. “For someone not knowing anything about hockey I’m impressed
that you know those little black things are called pucks.”

          She rolled her
eyes and laughed. “I’m not a complete idiot, ya know! I also know the joke
about going to a fight and a hockey game broke out.”

          A deep throaty
laugh escaped from his lips. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one, too.”

          “So, do you…”

          “Do I what,” he
prodded with a grin.

          “Well, do you
fight? When you play?”

          “Sometimes.
Does that offend you?”

          “Well, I just
don’t understand why it’s done.”

          He lifted an
eyebrow. “If an opponent slams my teammate into the boards, head first, I’m
gonna go after him for two reasons. One, it’s a dirty fucking play. Two, it’s a
dangerous move. Shit like that could end a career.”

           “Don’t they
have a time out for such offenses?”

          Rick snorted.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean shit. The asshole may get two to ten minutes,
depending on the penalty, but the player who got hurt might be out for weeks,
if he’s lucky. So, I make sure I beat the shit out of him before he gets sent
to time out, as you so eloquently put it,” he replied hotly.

          She held her
hands up. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be sarcastic. I just don’t understand the
game.”

          “I tend to get
a little angry when people say we’re goons or bullies because we’re defending
our teammates.”

          He pulled to a
stop in her driveway and both released sighs. He slowly turned his head and
half-grinned. “Sorry for snapping at you.”

          She shrugged.
“It’s okay. You’re very passionate about what you do.”

          Rick turned in
his seat. “And what are you passionate about Grace?”

          She tilted her
head.  “My beliefs. Some people tend to shy away when they learn I’m Wiccan.
They think I worship the devil or practice black magic,” she lifted a narrow
shoulder. “It’s silly. As a society we’ve come so far in many ways and yet in
some ways we haven’t.”

          She had a loose
strand of hair dangling alongside her face. Rick’s fingers ached to push it
behind her ear, but instead he rubbed his jaw. “Can I walk you to your door?”
he asked huskily.

           “It’s only a
few steps away.”

          Rick opened his
door and stepped out. Lowering his head into the car he grinned, “A gentleman
always walks a lady to her door.”

*        *        *

          “Thanks again
for dinner.

          “You’re very
welcome. Thanks for the company.” He glanced at his watch then met her eyes.
“It’s only a bit after ten. Can I come in?”

          She pushed the
door open widely and together they heard her answering machine.

          “Sorry I missed
your call yesterday. I’m not quite sure why we keep missing each other. It’s
almost like fate doesn’t want us to meet! Hope to hear from you soon!”

          Rick’s head
cocked at the male voice and his jaw tightened when Grace ran to pick up the
call. Chewy rubbed her body along his leg and mewed to be picked up.

           “Um, I signed
up with a singles website and that was the guy I was matched up to,” she
explained.

          He picked Chewy
up and closed the door dejectedly when she came back into the foyer. His
eyebrows lifted. “Go ahead, call him back. I’ll make myself comfortable and
watch TV with Chewy.”

          She waved a
dismissive hand. “Nah. I’m good. I need to, um, well, I have to cast a
spell…for Ben.”

          Ricks eyes lit
up. “Cool! Can I watch?”

          “You want to
watch?”

          “Hell yeah! I
think it’d be cool, unless you rather I didn’t.”

          A smile curved
her lips. “It’s just that Ben never wanted any part of what I did. He said it
creeped him out.”

           “I’m not Ben
and I’m totally interested.”

          “I do a ritual
cleansing before I cast a spell. It helps to wash away stress and tension.”

          Rick nodded,
“And you’ve certainly had enough of both today.”

           She shot him a
lopsided grin. “Yeah. Please, make yourself comfortable in the living room.
I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

          “Sure. Chewy
and I will put the news on.”

          Grace ran up
the stairs and pulled out a thick white cotton sleep shirt that she wore during
rituals. She placed her hand beneath the fabric and nodded approvingly. The
fabric was thick so he wouldn’t be able to see through it.

          She plucked the
lavender soap and shampoo from the bathroom cabinet that Jessica handmade and
stepped into the shower.

*        *        *

          Grace ascended
the stairs and wiggled her forefinger at Rick, indicating for him to follow. He
and Chewy followed her into a room off the hallway. On one wall she had a tiny
altar set up on an antique table.

          She bent over
to pick up the book that she dropped in her haste to run to her aunt’s aid
earlier in the day.

          Rick’s mouth
went dry at the vision before him and Chewy pawed at his chin. He shot the cat
a bewildered look before putting her on the floor. He shivered slightly. It was
as if the cat knew what he was looking at.

          Grace placed
the book onto an old desk and flipped through the pages. His chest brushed
against her back as he peered over her shoulder, sending tingles throughout her
body. She swallowed hard and moved a little. Her finger shook slightly as she
ran it over the page.

          “This, um, is
my Book of Shadows. It holds all the spells I’ve used in the past,” she stated.

          “From the
thickness of it, it looks like you’ve cast a lot of spells,” he murmured close
to her ear.

          She hefted the
book up and fanned the pages. His eyebrows narrowed at the unused sheets. “I
haven’t filled it up yet,” she grinned. “I think I’ve only used about thirty
pages. Anyway, some of the pages have recipes, if you will, for tonics, healing
salves and stuff like that.”