Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Novel (A Chick-lit Paranormal book) (The Angela Panther Series) (11 page)

Mel grabbed hold of my hand under the table, but I pulled it away, got up and paced around the small room. I shook my head back and forth. “No. No, thanks. I don’t want this. Tell her I don’t want this. Tell her to make it stop. Seeing my mom, that’s fine, but that’s where I draw the line. I am not going to be one of those whack jobs that goes around telling people where their dead father hid his life insurance policy. I am not a freak.”

“Ang,” Mel whispered and tilted her head toward psychic Linda.

Oh. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re not a freak. This is just a lot for me to deal with right now. I don’t mean to offend you, really, but this is way over my head.” I grabbed my purse, took $125 from my wallet and tossed it onto the table. “Thank you very much for your time. Mel, let’s go.”

I turned around and walked out the door.

It took Mel about five minutes to get to her car. She probably apologized profusely for my outburst, but I was too mad to care.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just take me back to my car, please.”

She did, and without saying another word.

T
here’s a saying we live by in my house,
‘if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy’
and mama wasn’t happy. After I arrived home, I immediately changed into my workout clothes and drove to the park to go for a run. Exercise for me wasn’t just about staying in shape but about relieving stress, and I was stressed enough to run a marathon.

I’d barely worked out since Ma was diagnosed, and I missed the adrenaline rush. Even out of practice, I managed to run a full two miles, wimpy by my usual standards, but I wasn’t going to complain. I ran past the cows that always butted up against the greenway fence and smiled a fake smile as other walkers and runners came toward me. It felt good pounding my feet against the pavement, and I’d set the volume on my iPhone music so high I couldn’t hear myself think, which was exactly what I wanted – not to think. Just to run or walk, after those first two miles. I walked another mile to cool down, and because I didn’t want to go home and face Jake. We hadn’t really finished our conversation about Ma, and I wasn’t prepared to add this new information into the mix. I knew it would have to come out eventually, but I needed to process it myself, first.

The park was an eighty-five-acre sports park with five soccer or lacrosse fields, six baseball fields, eight tennis courts, a skate park and several pavilions scattered throughout the green space. It was impossible to get a parking space from March to November because of all of the county sport leagues, and cars were often lined up on the side of the entrance road. Today the park was especially crowded so I assumed there was a soccer tournament, given the socks up to the knees of every kid there. I wasn’t ready to go home yet, so I decided to check out a game.

I’ve never actually watched a real soccer game. Both Emily and Josh gave it a whirl briefly when they were little but at five it was hard to understand the concept of getting the ball across the field without using your hands so it didn’t really count. At almost every game a child was kicked in the head. I used to giggle a little when a kid would go flying from a particularly strong roundhouse kick, until it happened to Emily. Then it wasn’t so funny. I guess it was true; what goes around comes around. Needless to say, she got over her interest in sports after that. Josh still played lacrosse, having given up soccer after one season. Lacrosse wasn’t any safer than soccer, in fact it was less, but I swallowed my fear and let him play.

I leaned against the fence on the far side of the field, just off of the path. The bleachers were center field, but a few extremist soccer fathers paced up and down the outside of the fence, sideline coaching the kids and screaming
“bad call”
at the refs. I’ve never understood why parents get like that. It was a children’s sport, not college or the pros, so why such anxiety? I couldn’t imagine it was good for the kids or the parents.

One man, dressed in black soccer shorts and a much too tight, white Under Armour shirt, was on the verge of losing it. He was screeching and hollering various curse words at the refs and other sideline coach fathers. Either they were so involved in the game themselves that they ignored him or they just didn’t see him.

Or they just don’t see him.

Well, crap. Could they see him?

I watched the man closely and checked to see if he gave off a ghostly vibe. Because, yes, I was so experienced and knew what a ghostly vibe would feel like. Truth is, I was clueless.

He didn’t look like a ghost. He wasn’t floating and from what I could tell, he was completely solid, not even a little bit transparent. I would have thought he was alive except his language was harsh enough that if he’d been heard, the refs would have tossed him out already or at least a parent would have said something to him. I moved in closer to see if I could see through him even a little, but I couldn’t. He was solid as a rock. That confused me.

“Some of us can do that, you know.”

My mother appeared next to me, and I jumped. I didn’t look at her. “I’m not speaking to you.”

I was still mad at her for keeping a secret like that for all of these years and then selfishly opening that can of worms without my knowledge or permission.

Either she didn’t notice, or didn’t care; I’m not sure which, because she kept on talking. “It takes a lot of energy, but I hear they feed off of the energy from people around them, and if they’ve been here long enough, they learn how to use it.”

I pretended to ignore her and walked closer to the man, wanting to check him out further myself.

She floated up next to me, and kept yapping. I kept ignoring.

“Angela, you’re mad at me, no? Fine, be mad at me, but if you’d just listen to me, you’d understand why I did what I did.”

I’d understand? What was there to understand? The way I saw it, my mother thought of no one but herself when she came back from the dead and there was nothing more for me to understand about it. It wasn’t about me, it was about her and considering the fact that she was dead, and I wasn’t, it really shouldn’t have been about her, so I continued to ignore her.

The man in the black shorts ran past me and screamed expletives at the ref, who clearly couldn’t hear him, but I’d had enough of his poor language. I walked up to the man, stopped in his path and stared at him.

“Excuse me, sir, but some people would like to watch the game without your added commentary, so zip it.” I sounded bitchy.

The man spun and checked behind himself, then widened his eyes at me, “You can see me?”

Great. Just freaking great. He was a ghost. Okay, I already knew he was, but I had hoped the refs didn’t care about him and that just maybe I was wrong.

I started to talk but stopped. I checked the other people around me, who thankfully, were too involved with the game to notice me talking to myself. Just in case, I lowered my voice and talked through my teeth. “Yes, I can see you, but more importantly, I can hear you, and your language is atrocious, so either clean it up or shut the hell up.”

I turned around and stomped toward my car. In that moment I totally got why Emily stomped like she did, but I stopped quickly so I wouldn’t feel like I gave her any unknown satisfaction.

“Wait,” he yelled.

At least he didn’t use any offensive words. He rushed up to my side. “Stop. Please. I just want to talk to you for a minute. Please.”

I stopped and dropped my chin down to my neck with a heavy sigh. “Not here,” I told him. “Follow me.”

We all walked to my car, ghost dude, Ma, whom I was ignoring and me. Visions of my future flashed before me, and none of them included anything ghost-free. Was this how it was going to be, me being chased by ghosts for the rest of my life? Thanks, Ma. Thanks a lot.

I clicked the automatic lock on my FOB, got into my car and immediately opened the sunroof to let the heat escape. Both ghosts got in too. Ma hovered in the front and ghost dude sat in the back. I admit it intrigued me that he could sit and Ma couldn’t, but I wasn’t going to let my interest beat out my anger.

“I can’t believe you can see me. I’ve tried talking to so many people, but you’re the first who’s ever talked back.”

Well, there you go, I was special. Yippee. “Yes, apparently I have a gift,” I said with much intended sarcasm, and shot my mother a look that would have probably killed her if she wasn’t already dead.

“That’s great. He seemed excited. “I need you to get a message to my daughter. Please, it’s important.”

I turned around in my seat and gave the ghost the stink eye. “Listen, Mr., Mr...what is your name?”

“Jeff. Jeff Jacobsen, and my daughter is Carly Jacobsen. She’s seventeen and I just want you to tell her that I...”

I cut him off, knowing where this is going. “Listen, Mr. Jacobsen, I’m sure you want to tell your daughter where you hid the key to the safety deposit box or something important like that, but I’m not going to talk to her for you. I’m sorry. I don’t do that.”

The ghost’s shoulders collapsed and his chin dropped to his chest. I think I heard him sniffle, too.

My mother – the one I’m still ignoring – hovered in the seat next to me, giving me a look only a mother could. “You could at least listen to what the man has to say, Angela. I didn’t raise you to be so rude.”

I stifled the urge to tell her she didn’t raise me to talk to ghosts either, since I was ignoring her. “Mr. Jacobsen, you have to understand, up until recently, I had no idea I could see gho...,” I stumbled for a better word, “spirits, and honestly, I’m a little freaked out right now, considering you’re the first that’s ever spoken to me.”

He turned to Ma and she shrugged.

“Well, except for her but I’m not talking to her right now, and she’s my mother, so she doesn’t count.”

Ma threw her hands up in the air. “Ah, shit, you’d think I’d count for something now that I’m dead.”

Hoping to prove my point, I continued to ignore her.

The ghost laughed. “And you got on me for my language.”

I couldn’t really argue that. “Well, I gotta go now." I motioned for him to get out of the car.

“Angela Panther, you can't treat people like that. I didn't raise you to be so rude." She sounded snooty.

You know how, when you’re mad and you don’t want to talk to someone but they keep talking to you, saying stuff that makes your head want to burst, but you still don’t say anything, because you’re trying not to lose it, but they finally push you past your limit, and you lash out, spewing a mouth full of verbal diarrhea at them? Yup, that’s where I was. The Angela Panther breaking point.

“For the love of God, Mother, he’s not a person! He’s a ghost! And I don’t have any idea how to treat ghosts because
someone
never told me I would have to, and then she died, and decided to screw up the rest of my life.”

She flinched. “I told you, if you’d just let me explain, you’d understand.”

I pushed my fingers into my temples, trying to ward off the migraine I felt starting. “Not now, Mother. Not. Now.”

“Fine. Don’t listen to me, but at least listen to this poor man. He needs your help, and you can’t just tell him no, Angela.”

“Yes, Ma, I can.”

And that’s exactly what I did. He nodded. Before he disappeared, I saw sadness in his eyes, and for a millisecond I felt bad about it, but I pushed it away. I felt like Ricky Gervais’s character in
Ghost Town
, except I didn’t need to die and come back to life to see ghosts. I told my mother leave me be.

And that’s exactly what she did.

###

W
hen I arrived home, Josh was waiting for me. He gave me a big hug. “It’ll be all right, Mama. I promise.”

I hugged him back just as tight and told him, “I’m fine honey. I’ve just had a rough day, but I’m fine. I love you, little man.”

“I love you too, Mama. And Grandma loves you too, you know.”

“Did Grandma ask you to tell me that, Josh?”

“Yup, and she said you’d be home in a few minutes, and that I should be nice because you’re cranky from having a bad day.”

I rubbed his hair with my hand. “Thanks, Josh, but I’m fine. I promise.”

“Okay. Can I go to Trevor’s house?”

“Sure, just be back by six o’clock for dinner. Okay?”

“Okay, Mama. Love you.” He grabbed his cell phone off the counter and left through the garage door.

“Love you too, little man.”

As I poured myself a glass of Chardonnay, Jake came up from his office in the basement. “Oh, that looks good. Would you pour me one, too?”

“Sure. So, you want to hear something interesting?” “Absolutely. As long as it doesn’t involve you spending large amounts of money or the police.”

I laughed. “Nope, but it does include psychics and ghosts. Still interested?”

“Do I have to be?”

“Only if you ever want to have sex again.”

“I love psychics and ghosts.”

I moved toward the door to the deck. “Is Em home? I don’t want her to hear this.”

“Yes, she’s in her room.”

I realized then that I’d totally forgotten about her not feeling well and didn’t even check on her when I came home and changed to go for a run. I wasn’t going to get any mother of the year awards, for sure. “Is she feeling okay?”

“I don’t know. After I picked her up at Taylor’s, she went straight up to her room and hasn’t come down since.”

“Hmm. Maybe she really wasn’t feeling well, then?”

“Hard to tell on the bike.”

We walked outside and sat on the deck. The sun was starting to lower behind our Cypress trees, and the slight breeze felt good on my skin. “Have you checked her computer lately?"

“Not recently. Why?”

“I don’t know. I have a feeling something’s up. Ma mentioned something recently, and I’ve been meaning to do a little snooping, but I’ve been a little distracted.”

“You know she hates it when we snoop.”

“You know I couldn’t care less.”

“Yup. Me, too. I’ll check it out later tonight.”

“That works.” I unconsciously guzzled my entire glass down. Jake raised his eyebrows. “It’s been a long day."