The After House (19 page)

“Well, I didn’t see anything. Maybe you dreamed it. You’re still shaken up. Let me see your phone. Where’s the number?” Hugh took her phone to scroll down. “I don’t see anything unidentified. Your last call was your daughter. Do you feel all right, Remy? Should I call someone?” He pulled her to the sofa and sat down next to her.

“I’m fine, Hugh.” Remy stood impatiently to pace the room. “I was on the couch. He appeared right here.” She touched another spot in front of him. “It was real. I touched him. He was ice-cold. A ghost.”

Hugh smiled. “Couldn’t be a ghost. They’re apparitions. You can’t really feel them.”

“What are you talking about? I know what I felt. Anyway, you’re supposed to tell me there are no such things as ghosts.”

Hugh leaned forward, pulled her onto his lap, and kissed her gently on the lips. He brushed the hair back from her face. He paused, as if debating whether to say something.

“I don’t tell just anybody. You may think I’m crazy. You see, I have a ghost of my own at the church.”

“You believe me?”

“Yes,” he answered simply. “I believe you. I’d believe you even if I didn’t.”

“Wait, that makes no sense.”

“I know,” Hugh said with a grin. “But somehow it’s OK.”

“You believe in ghosts too? What do you mean, you have a ghost of your own?”

Hugh shook his head. “Happens to be an ancestor of mine. The whaler I told you about. I call him Peg Leg Henry.”

“Peg Leg Henry?”

“Yes. He was one of the two survivors of a whaler rammed by a large whale. He was a cabin boy, lost his leg. His captain saved him.”

Remy grabbed his shirt collar, her face urgent. “What was his captain’s name?”

“It’s so odd, coincidental, almost. I looked it up this afternoon. It was—”

“It was me,” the captain said from across the room. Hugh protectively put his arms around Remy. He sized the captain up. Remy stiffened and bit her lip.

“Do you see him?” she whispered urgently.

Remy slid off his lap as he stood. He put her behind him.

“You don’t have to whisper. I can hear you plain as day,” the captain told her. He faced Hugh. “I’m not going to hurt her. You can’t be Henry Falcon’s descendant. He died when he was a boy.”

Hugh reached out, but the captain evaded his touch. “No, he didn’t. He was my paternal grandmother’s ancestor.” Hugh circled him warily.

“He didn’t die after I brought him home? How do you know that?” the captain demanded.

Hugh faced him. “I have his journal. He became a successful shipowner. I have a collection of scrimshaw he worked on.”

Eli laughed. “What do you know? Did he improve with the etchings?”

“I carry the first one he made in my pocket for good luck.” Hugh pulled out the tooth with the childish illustration on its surface. He held it up to the captain. “After all, he had it on him when your ship got wrecked.”

Eli looked at the scrimshaw in Hugh’s hand. “Aye, that’s his. I don’t think it’s especially lucky. I thought he died from his injuries. He was as good as gone when I brought him home.”

“He lived to a ripe old age. He comes by every year on the anniversary of your wreck. You saved him.”

“For what? Life as a cripple. When I delivered him, his parents threw me out. He was half-dead when I left, they told me hopeless.” His voice was so sad. “Another whaling bark found us two or three days after our sinking. We were almost done for. Henry was nearly drained of blood. I failed his parents. I returned only half of their son.”

“Sure, there were challenges, but let me assure you, Henry died a wealthy and happy man. He had fourteen children who ended up being highly successful. Why are you here?” Hugh asked him.

The captain’s dark eyes glistened with tears. “I’m not sure…” His voice trailed off. “I got him home, but where
did I go? I had a family, a wife, a girl, and…I don’t remember much. I need that woman to help me.” He faded into the mural.

“Wow. What woman?” Hugh asked.

“Why aren’t you freaking out? Do you talk to ghosts every day?”

Hugh pulled Remy up, smiling. “What’s up with the chicken? You never told me. Do you know what woman he is talking about?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea. He said a name, but I don’t remember. Alabama, or something. Should we tell someone? Should we call the police?”

“Alabama? Oh! Maybe Georgia?” Hugh laughed. “That’s going to go over really well. They’ll fire me. They’ll lock us both up. It’s been going on for years, weirdness in this house. As soon as Pat started talking about it, they put him away. Besides,” he said as he took her hand to move into the kitchen, “I’ve never heard of anyone getting hurt by one of them. Georgia is not afraid.”

“Who is this Georgia?”

“You haven’t seen her show? She’s amazing.”

“How amazing?” Remy asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Talks-to-the-dead amazing. But now, apparently, so do I. I’m hungry. OK, OK.” He held up his hands. “Forget about the chicken.”

They ended up with pizza, then wine afterward. Hugh built up a fire. With Remy’s small feet in his lap, his fingers massaged her toes, while she groaned in ecstasy. Leaning forward, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly. Remy looked around the room.

“Forget him.” Hugh kissed her deeply. “He left a while ago.”

“I have a three-date rule,” Remy told him between kisses.

“What? We’ve been on three dates.”

Remy reared back, her eyes luminous in the firelight. He held up his hand, listing the information.

“I took you to tea, I took you to the hospital, and I took you for a rental car. I will admit you’re a cheap date.”

Remy hugged him. He smelled delicious. Her body hummed with desire. He leaned into her, letting her feel his arousal. “They hardly count.” She kissed him on his lips and felt her soul ignite. “Why do you make me feel this way?”

“Because it feels right.” Hugh kissed her back.

“Tell me about your marriage,” Remy asked softly, brushing the brown hair from his eyes.

Hugh pulled her close to him and let her rest her head on his chest. “Her family belonged to all the same clubs as my parents. They adored her. I was twenty-eight, and they kept asking me to settle down. She was lovely. It wasn’t her fault. I don’t even know if it was mine. I just knew it wasn’t right.” He sighed. “We gave up after the second year. Believe me, it broke my heart to end it. I almost stayed, because I didn’t want to hurt her, but we both realized it wasn’t working. She’s married now to some broker in Boston and has three children. What’s your war story?”

“I was young, sheltered, and he was everything I thought I wanted. I never dated much, so I jumped at the
chance to be with him. I think I wasn’t enough for him. Maybe I didn’t try enough.”

“Maybe he didn’t,” Hugh kissed her. “I doubt it was you. You just weren’t meant for each other.”

“Was there anybody else along the way?”

“A few relationships. I didn’t invest much, because I didn’t want to waste either their time or my own. Flirtations mostly.”

“Is this a flirtation?” Remy asked huskily, her amber eyes searching his.

Hugh lifted her against him, kissing her long and hard. “You have to ask? Remy, I’ve never felt about anyone like this before.”

“Me too,” she whispered back. “Once you know…”

Their conversation stopped needing words.

emy fell asleep encased in Hugh’s arms. She was exhausted. What began on the living room sofa ended in her full-sized bed, without the baleful stare of the captain upon them. Hugh lifted an additional blanket to wrap around them. The wind whistled through the eaves, the house creaking under the weight of the new snow, which softened all sound.

Hugh squirmed closer to her, wanting to wake her, but felt she needed the sleep more. He kissed the top of her tousled head. His eyes searched the darkened corners of the room, and he gave a startled yelp when he spied the captain observing him from the armoire. The watchdog wagged her tail happily at the apparition.

“Lecher,” Hugh whispered hotly. “How long have you been watching us?”

“Long enough. She’s a good girl. I hope you’ll do right by her.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Hugh said. “Welcome to the twenty-first century, Captain. You’ve been around long enough to know things have changed.”

“Aye,” the captain said sadly. “Still, ’tis my ship and my rules, so I say you’ll—”

They heard something drop downstairs. Scout rose on all fours, her hackles up, her teeth bared. Hugh sat up alertly, letting Remy’s head roll onto the pillow.

“Down Scout,” he ordered softly. Sliding out of bed, he stood in all his naked glory.

He heard a throat clearing behind him. “I’m all for scaring the hooligans, but I think you’ll do better with your breeches on.”

Hugh slipped on pants. He heard the captain’s voice again.

“Ahem, weapons, man. We need a weapon and nary a harpoon in sight.” The captain looked around the frilly room with a frown. “Take the bat in the corner.” Hugh grabbed the bat, holding it beside him as they left the room, closing the door on both Remy and Scout behind him. The captain walked through the door next to him. “Safety in numbers, seaman.”

“I’m not a sailor,” Hugh whispered.

The captain ignored him. “Take the fore, I’ll take the aft,” Eli advised as he winked out of sight.

Hugh hugged the wall as he descended the steps. Snow drifted in from outside through the open door. There were no signs of forced entry. A key chain with some sort of fuzzy toy dangling from it hung from the lock in the door. He tiptoed down the steps toward the kitchen. A wet track of puddles sparkled on the wooden floor.

He heard a loud “Psst,” and saw the captain embedded in the wall, pointing to the living room.

Hugh and Remy had left her covers and pillow in a rumbled mess on the couch. He saw a vague outline of a man prodding the pile of bedding.

The intruder whispered, “Remy, is that you?” He reached out a hand to pull back the covers. The captain motioned to Hugh that he was going to go in front of him. Scout had gotten out and her sudden, shrill barking added to the terror startling the stranger, who turned quickly. Hugh realized he had a gun in his hand.

Hugh leaped forward and hit the intruder’s hand. The gun went off, and the room was bathed in a white flash. Hugh raised the bat, but the other man deflected the attack and hit Hugh’s hand with the pistol. Hugh went numb from wrist to elbow. The bat flew out of his grasp and hit Scout, leaving her dazed. Then it dashed into the mural, chipping the paint in two places.

The two men went down hard, wrapped in a tight hold, each trying to overpower the other. The combatants rolled on the floor, and Hugh grabbed the shoulders of the man above him. He punched the other man’s face, but the intruder was wearing a ski mask, and the blow rolled off him. Dark eyes gleamed from twin holes. Hugh pushed on his chin, trying to dislodge the disguise. A fist loomed large before his eyes. Hugh knew he was going to get punched, and it was going to be hard. The blow never came. A large vase cracked against the assailants head, dazing him.

Hugh’s attacker went down with a thump. His head banged hard on the wood, and the gun skittered away on the floor. Remy stood over him, her hands still in the air, her bare legs white in the moonlight. Hugh’s shirt billowed about her small form. The men both scrambled to their feet, their arms outstretched as they watched for an opportunity to pounce.

Remy ran to the wall switch and flipped the light switch. When the lights blinked on, Remy recognized the stranger’s build.

“Scott!”

Scott ripped off his headgear. “Did I interrupt something,
princess
?” he asked through clenched teeth. He turned to Hugh. “Better get it all now, because once you put a ring on her finger, she stops.”

Hugh lunged, his face contorted with rage. His hands locked on Scott’s neck. Scott struggled to rip them off.

Remy looked for her phone. Where was her phone? “How could I lose my phone?” she thought frantically. She dodged between the men, pulling at cushions, throwing them around. The fighters tripped as they danced around them. She sliced her foot on a shard of the vase. She yelped with the pain and limped around the room, leaving a trail bloody footprints.