Unfinished Business An Angela Panther Novel (A Chick-lit Paranormal book) (The Angela Panther Series) (30 page)

“Wait. I have a gene? I gave this to my son? What is this, this Krabbe Disease?”

I gave him a brief description based on what Heidi told me, stressing the part about pain and leaving out the part about his baby dying. He finally began to understand, and gathered up the baby and his things.

“A note. I need to leave my mother a note. She’s at the grocery.”

“I know. Yes, you do.”

He went to the table in the entryway, got a pad of paper out of the drawer, and wrote with a pen from the same drawer. When he finished, he placed it on the kitchen counter. “Is she still here?” “Yes.”

“Can she hear me?”

I nodded and he searched the room.

“She’s by the front door and she says you really need to go.”

“Heidi. I miss you. Please stay with me. I can’t do this without you.”

“Tell him I’m always close by, but he’ll be okay. He can do this.”

So I did and asked him again, “Do you need a ride?”

He told me he didn’t, and I walked out to my car while he loaded his crying son into his car seat. “She’s with you, Mr. Merritt." I got in my car.

As I started my car, Heidi appeared next to me. “Thank you. I’ll do my best to deliver your message to the others.”

“Don’t bother.”

“That’s what I thought.” She winked and then disappeared.

###

A
s I drove away, I said a prayer that Stan and his baby would make it through this okay, and that he would find love again, just in case.

Then I bawled like a baby. I cried so hard I had to pull over in the CVS parking lot. My life, the only life I knew, was over. I cried to mourn it. I cried out of anger. I cried for that man and his baby and I cried knowing I would never be able to not help a ghost, because no matter what I thought, or how I felt, it’s what I needed to do.

The ringing of my cell phone interrupted my crying. It was my dad.

“Hey, Dad." I tried to sound chipper.

“Hello, Sunshine. I just wanted to call and tell you I’m okay. Helen said you called to check on me.”

“Yeah, she told me you were sleeping. How are you feeling, Dad?”

“Oh, I think I’ll make it another day, you don’t have to worry about me.”

I choked back a monster-sized lump in my throat. “I always worry about you, Dad. Just like you do me.”

“I know." His breathing was so labored.

“Dad?”

“I’m here kiddo. I love you, you know.”

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

“Bye, babe.”

“Bye Dad.”

I turned the car off, laid my head back down on the steering wheel and cried some more. Ma was there and hovered next to me, but I never felt her. I was too involved in my own emotions to notice.

I finished my second crying spell, got myself together and headed over to Starbucks. I sent Jake a text and asked him to meet me, but he said he was at the park with Josh, practicing lacrosse. I texted Mel next, who responded with a smiley emoticon and said she was on her way.

We sat outside in our regular spot and I told her about my morning. We both got teary-eyed talking about Heidi and her family and when I told her about my dad we got teary eyed again.

“I swear, it's all about Adam and Eve, you know? If the circumstances were different, like we’ve said a billion times and will say a billion more times, men would be the emotional ones and we’d be able to compartmentalize everything.”

“Probably, but it can’t be fun to barely feel anything.”

“They feel things. They feel horny.”

“Good point.”

“I feel horny all of the time, so I must have more testosterone than the average woman."

“Or you’re a ho.”

“Your point?”

“Don’t have one.” I sipped my iced coffee.

“Didn’t think you did.”

We quipped back and forth like this for another hour, and it helped. There was nothing better than a friend who could listen to your sad story, then lift your spirits back up with a few silly comments. Everyone deserved a friend like Mel.

Before we left, we made plans to meet for drinks at our favorite outdoor restaurant later that night. The guys liked to watch the divorced cougars hit on the young men, and we liked to look at the young men being hit on by the divorced cougars, so it was a win for all of us.

###

I
spent the rest of the day avoiding pretty much everything, planted on the couch reading an e-book about meditation, but didn’t really pay attention to the words. Finally at about five p.m., I threw something together for dinner. The thought of throwing something in the crock pot earlier resurfaced and I chastised myself for the lack of follow through. Instead the kids would have cheese and bean quesadillas, and Jake and I would eat appetizers at the bar.

I spent an hour getting ready, trying to look good for my husband, and secretly because I wanted the cougar bait to find me more appealing than the actual cougars but I’d never admit that out loud.

Jake came up and got in the shower exactly thirteen minutes before we were supposed to leave.

“You’re taking a shower?”

“I stink. I played lacrosse for almost two hours this morning.”

“We have to be there in like ten minutes.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to be late.”

“It’s Mel and Nick. They’re never there on time anyway.”

This was a constant argument with Jake and me. I was notoriously early and he was ridiculously late, except with work. With work, he was annoying punctual, but that was mostly luck, not skill.

“I wish you’d get ready earlier. I hate being late, you know that.”

“Ang, we have plenty of time. We’re not late if we get there before them, and we always do.”

“They could be there before us.”

“Won’t happen.”

“We’re gonna be late anyway. I look fat in everything.”

He shook his head. “Wear that new skirt and top I picked out for you. You haven’t worn it yet and it looks great on you.”

“I don’t have a strapless bra, and I can’t wear a regular bra with that shirt.”

“You don’t need a bra.”

“Um, yes, I do. I don’t want my headlights on for everyone to see.”

“You’re the only one who cares about that.”

“Yeah, well they’re my headlights, so I get to care about it.”

“Fine, but you’ve got a closet full of stuff to wear. Wear one of those sundresses you took on vacation last year. You look pretty in those.”

I grumbled to myself that I didn’t want to wear one of those. I wasn’t comfortable in dresses, plus I felt frumpy. “Fine.”

I put on the black dress with the heart shaped cut and was surprised at how good it looked. Feeling good in clothing made for a happy Angela, and a happy Angela meant it was going to be a fun night.

H
appy Angela had three too many raspberry margaritas and at least two baskets full of chips and didn’t feel good when we got home. The kids were sound asleep on the couch, but I walked right past them and headed straight up stairs. Jake woke them up and led them to bed.

I was undressing in the closet when he walked in. “That was a good night. Mel is a riot.”

“Yeah, when she went up to that woman and pulled her dress out of her underwear I almost peed on myself.”

“Someone needed to do it. No one needed to see that thong.”

“Women over the age of sixty should not wear thongs.”

“No.”

We brushed our teeth and then pulled the covers down on the bed. Jake gave me his,
am I getting any,
look, so I took my off my boxers and tank top and hopped under the covers.

“Oh yeah. Raspberry margaritas always get me lucky.”

“And they always make me bloated."

“No, that’s the chips." He pulled me to him.

After what seemed like an unbelievably long time, because men who drank and then had sex lasted forever, we snuggled a bit, and finally fell asleep.

I dreamed that my childhood dog, Brutus, was in my room, barking next to my bed. I tried to shush him but he kept barking. I woke up and checked the side of my bed, but the dog wasn’t there.

“Hello, Sunshine.”

At the foot of my bed, my dad hovered with a soft white glow surrounding him.

“Oh, no, Dad. Not yet."

“Don’t forget, you promised to take care of Helen."

And then he shimmered away.

T
here are so many people I need to thank for helping me with this book. Jenn Nahrstadt for keeping me on track and helping me with the first billion drafts. Karyn Clough for reading every single page at least two hundred times and along with Genevieve Buck, providing great ideas for character development and some seriously funny stuff. Tatiana Villa for a great cover and for really “getting” what I wanted.  Draft2digital.com for being patient and understanding of my perfectionist issues. Most of all, I am grateful to my husband, Jack for being my cheerleader and biggest fan. Without him, none of this would have been possible.

___________________________________________________

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Read Chapter One of the second book in the Angela Panther Series

Unbreakable Bonds

An Angela Panther Novel

Chapter One

My skin blistered from the heat and even in the woods the shade from the Pine trees barely filtered it's intensity. I ran faster, my breathing labored. I needed shelter. I preferred my car but it was two miles away and I knew I couldn't keep my pace for that long.

Pebbles pelted me like hail, only harder. I couldn't see where they came from but they pinged me on my arms and legs. Some bounced from my head and hit the ground. It would have been funny if it hadn't hurt.

Out of energy, I gave up and sought shelter under an Oak tree. I leaned against it and the bark pierced my skin but it hurt less than the rocks. A rock clipped me on my right knee. "Knock it off."

One dropped on my head. I glanced up but couldn't see how it made it through the branches. "Ouch, that hurt." Then from out of nowhere one the size of a small lemon fell at my feet. At least that one hadn't hit my head. I picked it up and tossed it from one hand to another. "Whoever you are, I appreciate what you're trying to do here and I'm not ignoring you, honest. I just can't hear you. So throw all the rocks you want but it won't help. My psychic gift is broken and unless you can spell with these rocks, you're screwed. Capiche?"

The rocks stopped.

"Thank God." I hit play on my running list and ran. Halfway through the first song another rock dropped on my head.

"Seriously, knock it off. I can't help you. Trust me, bigger and more powerful ghosts have tired and all have failed."

A small tree branch smacked me in the arm. 

"Now that's just rude."

One by one rocks hit my legs.

"Boy, you're a testy one, huh?"

They came faster and I tried to dodge them. It took a lot of energy for ghosts to move things. Usually they wore out quickly and had to disappear to recoup, so I egged it on. I picked up my pace. "Is that all you got? Come on,
Casper
. Bring it."

I ran for another minute straight, jumping over small tree stumps and rocks. I relished in my ability to conquer an unseen competitor. I did my best imitation of Rocky Balboa, pounding my hands in the air and cheering myself on and then I tripped and face-planted it into a pile of animal dung.

"Shit."

I pulled off my tee shirt, thankful I had on a workout bra and not a regular one, wiped my face with the shirt and waited. The rocks had stopped. I'd successfully worn the ghost out but it one-upped me with the face-plant. "Touché." I sulked the rest of the way to my car.

I'd lost my ability to hear and see ghosts after my father died six months ago but that hadn't stopped them from trying to make a connection. Most of the time I felt bad for them. I understood the desperate need for closure, for a final chance to say
I love you
or ask for forgiveness. I wanted that too because when I lost my gift, I also lost my connection to my mother, whose spirit had been a constant in my life for the year before my father died.

I'd worked hard to fix what was broken but nothing worked. When ghosts tried to communicate with me I never knew who it was or what they wanted and both sides just ended up frustrated.

On the way home I called my best friend Mel and told her about the face-plant.

"So I had another one," I said.

"Did you see it?"

"Nope."

"Hear it?"

"Nope."

"What did it do?"

"Threw rocks at me."

"Ticked it off, huh?"

"Maybe a little." 

"Uh huh."

"Bet I'll have some colorful bruises later."

"Could be worse."

"It is," I said.

"Oh, crap."

"Exactly."

"Huh?"

"Crap."

"Speak English."

"Says the Asian."

"Born and raised in New Jersey, baby. Tell me what happened."

So I did.

She laughed so loud I held the phone away from my ear. "You done?"

"You just made my crappy day better." She busted out laughing.

It was funny but not
that
funny. "Nice."

"Are you at Fowler Park?"

"Nope. The bike trail at Central Park."

"I hate that place."

"You hate running, not the place."

"You're right."

"It's 'cause I'm faster than you," I said.

"No you're not. I just let you win."

"Uh huh."

"I don't want you to feel bad."

I laughed. "You and Nick up for dinner tonight? I'm thinkin' Mexican."

"Nick's gotta work."

"Again? How many Saturdays in a row is that now?"

"Six."

Mel often complained about Nick's work schedule. After my mother died he worked most weekends for months. Mel had been frustrated then and was now, too. 

"That sucks."

"Yup."

"Is everything okay at his job?"