Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Novel (A Chick-lit Paranormal book) (The Angela Panther Series) (12 page)

“I’m sorry. What’s up?”

I filled Jake in on everything, from the woman behind Jenn at the Starbucks counter, to the visit with psychic Linda, and Bob my not so imaginary childhood friend, and finally ended with the story about Mr. Jacobsen at the soccer field. He didn’t say a word through the entire rant, just stared at me, listening intently. Finally, after I’d finished and breathed in deeply to re-oxygenate my lungs, he stood and spoke. “Let’s go.”

I tilted my head like Gracie. “What? Go where?”

He was already opening the door to the kitchen and turned around. “To the soccer field. We have to find this Jacobsen ghost, Angela and you have to help him.”

“But I don’t want to.” I pressed my butt more firmly into the deck chair, hoping it would stick like glue.

My husband walked back over to me and crouched down next to my chair. “Honey, It doesn’t matter what you want. This isn’t about you right now. You have to do this, Ang. Listen, I don’t know why all of this is happening. Hell, two weeks ago I would have said it was impossible, but now...now things are different. This man is a father, Ang. He has a daughter, like me. You have to help him.”

I stared at my husband, both shocked that he’d said that and shocked that I realized he was right. I nodded as he ran his hand through his soft, salt and pepper hair. I kissed his forehead and stood. “Okay.”

###

“D
o you see him?” Jake asked as we pulled up to the field. He was excited about this, but I wasn’t. I knew he was right, that I had to help, but I could see my future, and it was full of ghosts who needed me and honestly, it scared the crap out of me.

I scanned the length of the field. “There.” I pointed to the far end, opposite of where he was earlier. “He’s over there.”

Jake's eyes focused on the far end of the field. “Which one is he?”

I turned and raised my eyebrows at him. “Uh,
the one you can’t see
.”

He shook his head. “Oh, yeah. Forgot about that part,” he said as we race-walked toward the ghost.

“I cannot believe I’m doing this – telling a ghost I’ll help him. This is so incredibly beyond
anything
I’ve ever imagined for my life.” I slowed down my gait, feeling suddenly apprehensive about the whole idea.

Jake rushed in front of me, and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Angela, trust me, I’m having a hard time understanding all of this too, but I believe you. I believe
in
you, and I know if you don’t do this, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Wow. He believed me. Did I have an awesome husband or what? That was all I needed to go to Mr. Jacobsen and help him find peace.

We walked up to the ghost and I apologized for my earlier behavior, then I introduced him to Jake. Sort of. I guess I didn’t actually introduce them since Jake couldn’t see him, but well, I acknowledged both of them to each other. This stuff was going to be confusing. I could already tell.

“That’s Carly, over there.” Mr. Jacobsen pointed to a tall – probably five-foot-seven – girl, with a trim, athletic build I couldn’t help but envy. She had long, blond hair pulled up into a messy ponytail, and stood on the sidelines across the field.

“She’s beautiful.” I pointed to her so Jake could see her, too.

“Yes, she is,” Mr. Jacobsen said.

Jake was standing next to me with an expression of amazement on his face. If this wasn’t such a sensitive situation, I would have said something sarcastic, but I was trying to at least appear mature. I turned back toward the ghost and apologized further, offering more of an explanation this time. “I’m sorry about earlier. This is all new to me...this whole ghost thing, and it’s way out of my comfort zone. I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to do, but whatever it is, it doesn’t include being rude to you.”

“It’s okay. It’s kind of new to me, too.”

I hadn’t really thought of it that way. I nodded since I didn’t know how else to respond. Jake widened his eyes, as if to ask,
“what the hell is going on?”
I shrugged. “Mr. Jacobsen accepts my apology.” I turned back to the ghost. “Mr. Jacobsen, you asked me before if I could get a message to your daughter. What would you like me to tell her?”

The ghost turned to look at his daughter. “That I’m sorry. I just want her to know I’m sorry.”

I glanced at Jake, who was about to jump out of his skin. I could tell his inability to hear the ghost was killing him, but I didn’t say anything to him yet, partly because I liked to watch him squirm, but mostly because I just wanted to get this over with quickly.

“Okay, Mr. Jacobsen, I can tell her that.” I pushed my chest out, pressed my shoulders back and gathered up some serious nerve. “Let’s do this.”

We walked over to his daughter, still on the sidelines of the game. She was standing alone and at first glance appeared to be watching her team, but a further look made me realize she was just there, not really paying attention. I recognized the look on her face. It was grief. I approached her slowly. “Carly?”

She circled toward me and the sadness in her eyes made my heart ache. I knew that look well. It was the look I had when my mother died. “Yeah?”

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I realized I didn’t know what the heck I was doing, or what to say, but I tried again. “Um, my name is Angela Panther. You don’t know me, but I uh...I know...I knew your father.”

A hint of a smile appeared on her face for just a moment and then it was gone. “Oh, hi. He’s dead. My father died.”

My first thought was to reach out and wrap my arms around her. “I know, honey. I’m sorry.” No child this young should ever have to go through the pain of losing a parent. I knew how I felt, and it was heartbreaking for me –
even though right now I had no interest in talking to my mother
, so I imagined it was a billion times harder for her. I didn’t hug her because it might be creepy to her and was uncomfortable for me. Instead I asked how she was doing.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t like I didn’t know this would happen, you know?”

Actually, no, I didn’t know, so I shot a nasty look at her dad. He started covering his ghost butt. “Uh, I had a little problem.”

“Yes. I know he had a uh...a problem.”

She breathed out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, you could say that. How did you know him? Are you in the program, too?”

The program
? Frick. What did I get myself into? “No, I’m not. I mean I don’t need to be.” I stumbled to get the words out right. “I mean I didn’t know your father from there.”

“Oh, how did you know him?”

I inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to stop my heart from beating a million times a minute. “Carly, how much longer is left in the game? I’d like to talk to you a little, but I can wait.” I realized Jake was just standing there like an idiot. “Oh, this is my husband, Jake.” He gave her a half smile and nodded. Carly said hi.

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m not playing today. I’m just here for support. I sprained my ankle last week and Coach said I have to sit out until the next game.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about your ankle. Is it okay?”

“Yeah. Just a little weak right now, but no biggie.”

“That’s good. Let’s go over to the other side of the fence and talk for a minute. Is that okay?” I pointed over to the fence.

“Uh, sure." We walked toward the fence.

I didn’t really know how to approach the situation and turned to Jake with a look of panic and desperation, to which he just shrugged his shoulders. Such a helpful husband.

The four of us stood uncomfortably on the other side of the fence. Mr. Jacobsen was bouncing up and down, most likely more nervous than I was. I realized the
program
his daughter mentioned was most likely an alcohol or drug program and I couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted a drink or a fix right now. Yeah, I really did think that. Maybe ghosts carried their issues with them when they died. What did I know?

I broke the awkward silence. “Okay, I’m going to say something to you and it’s going to sound really strange, but I’ve never done this before, and don’t have a clue how to start, so just listen and don’t think I’m crazy, because I promise you, I’m not.”

The girl's eyebrows went up like I was crazy anyway. “Okay.”

Jake nodded at me to continue.

“I have a message from your father.”

Carly pushed her chin back into her neck and curled her lip up at me. “A message? Like he told you something before he died?”

Ah, Madone. “Um, no. Not really. Carly, this is going to sound crazy, but your father is here, and he wants me to tell you something.”

She stood still and gave me a wide-eyed stare, then shook her head quickly back and forth, and started to speak. Jake interrupted her. “Carly, please. I know you’re freaking out right now, and I get that. I didn’t believe her the first time she told me about it, but this is real. Just listen to my wife, okay?”

He didn’t believe me at first either?
I shot him a look and he shrugged his shoulders again.

“I...I...I don’t understand. My dad is dead. How can he be here if he’s dead? Are you like, trying to punk me?” She rotated and checked behind her, probably searching for the camera recording the punk.

“No, Carly. I’m not trying to punk you. I promise. Your dad is here and he wants me to tell you something.”

I nodded toward her father. “I could use some help here, you know. This isn’t going well.”

With a hint of desperation, the ghost said, “Tell her I love her.”

I lowered my head and shook it in defeat “Seriously? That’s all you’ve got? Like that’s going to convince this girl that her dead father is standing here? I need something better than that one, Mr. Jacobsen. That’s just not gonna fly.”

Carly, watching me talk to myself must have thought I was a whack job. “I...I uh...I don’t like, know who you are or what you’re doing but I’m outta here.” She turned and practically sprinted back to the other side of the fence, toward her team.

“Well, that went well, didn’t it?” I face-palmed my head. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea, Jake.” I shook my head then walked away. Jake followed.

Mr. Jacobsen caught up to me, and sounded even more distressed than before. “Please. You have to talk to her for me. I’m sorry. I should have said something else, I know that now. I was just...I don’t know...I just really need you to talk to her for me. Please, just try one more time.”

I stopped. I wanted to help him, for the most part, but I wasn’t used to making an ass out of myself. Okay, maybe I have made an ass out of myself in the past, but at least it was on my own terms. I didn’t ask for this
gift
and didn’t like being made to look like some crazy, whacked out nutcase. “Mr. Jacobsen, I’m sorry. I tried. You saw your daughter. You saw the look on her face. She thinks I’m a whack job. I can’t go back to her and give her a message from you. I’m sorry, really, I am.”

“He’s asking you to try again, isn’t he? You need to do it, Ang. Tell him you need something more specific from him. Something that will make her believe he’s really here.”

I glared at my husband and considered smacking him upside the head for the saying that out loud, but he was right. I hated that. Mr. Jacobsen stood next to me nodding his head fiercely. “Yes, I can give you something better to say to her. Please.”

My husband gave me his serious face, the one where his eyebrows crunch up and he looks like he’s going to fart. “Ask him, Ang.”

I turned toward my husband. “I don’t have to ask him, Jake. You may not be able to hear him, but he hears you, and he’s all over this now, thank you very much.” I stood still, trying to figure out a way out of this, or better yet, a way to go back in time to the happy place I lived in before I could see and talk to dead people. After a few seconds of total concentration – except for the part where I remembered I had at least ten loads of laundry to finish – I realized there was no going back. Dammit. “Okay, fine,” I growled to both of them. “But Mr. Jacobsen.”

“Call me Jeff.”

“Okay, Jeff. You have to give me something I can’t possibly know, so she gets that it’s really you. Can you do that?”

He paced back and forth, thinking.

“What’s he saying?"

“Nothing. He’s pacing.”

Finally after what seemed like an hour, the ghost threw his hands up in the air. “I’ve got it!” He stood next to me, hopping up and down like a rabbit on speed. Or a ghost with residual addiction issues, maybe.

“I’ve got it."

I turned to Jake. “He’s got it.”

“Well, what is it?”

I turned to look at the ghost. I was sure that after today I’d need to see a chiropractor for neck issues. “Well?”

“Tell her I know she sleeps in my Atlanta Braves shirt, the blue one with the hole on the sleeve. She loved that shirt and always wanted to borrow it. I let her once, but I didn’t get it back for two weeks, so I wouldn’t let her borrow it again. Tell her I know she hasn’t washed it since I uh...I died, and that I know she smells it every night before she goes to sleep.”

Images of the clothes Em has borrowed from me and never returned passed quickly through my head, and I made a mental note to check her room when I got home. Sometimes the mother in me comes out even when I don’t want her to. “Okay. This might work.”

Jake was anxious. “What’s he saying?”

I told him to follow me, afraid if I stopped to explain, I’d lose the nerve to approach her again. I walked past him, away from the ghost and over to Carly, who was probably going to call the police on me.

She shifted my direction and I could see the angst, could almost feel it emanating from her skin. “Please leave me alone.”

Instead of trying to explain further, I just blurted it out. Like a teenage girl with a crush on a boy who doesn’t know what to say when he first approaches her and says something stupid. “He knows you smell his Braves shirt when you sleep in it at night. It was his favorite shirt.” Right then my phone alerted me of a text and I struggled not to check it. Stupid technology. It was like crack.

Carly walked closer to me and tears were rolling down her face. “What did you say?”

“The blue shirt. He said it was the blue one. He said he let you borrow it once but he didn’t get it back for two weeks...”