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“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Dru fiddled with the blanket’s fringe, twisting and untwisting. “You’ll have children one day. I didn’t know if maybe, you’d want to …”
“Me? No way,” I said, trying to laugh it off, failing. The only way I’d ever experience children would be vicariously, as the spinster aunt living in a tiny house with thirty cats. And possibly some dead people. The muscles in my face wouldn’t cooperate with the smile I tried to force. “I don’t think I’ll ever get married, much less have children. Whether I want to or not. That’s all so … normal. I’m not.”
She put down the blanket and reached out to take my hand and give it a comforting squeeze. “Thomas told me you’re seeing them again.”
“Bad news travels fast.” My stomach dropped all the way down to my shoes. I pulled my hand away and turned back to the bed to continue sorting through the tiny clothes, searching blindly for the elusive sock with the yellow chick on it.
ficent. I could already imagine trying to sleep knowing he was practically lying beside me. Even though he’d made me furious yesterday, I couldn’t deny that the attraction still existed.
I was an idiot.
The sound of John Lee Hooker and his guitar floated from Michael’s room through my window. So much in common—I loved the blues, too. I sat on my bed to listen to the music, watching the shifting shadows cast on my floor by the leaves from the oak outside my window. It was a beautiful afternoon, perfect for hanging out at the lake and grabbing the last bit of warmth before the weather turned cold. If you were a normal teenager. Since I’d left normal behind a lifetime ago, I stayed at home, trapped with my thoughts.
Even though I promised Michael to mind my own business, I was tempted to resume my Internet search on the Hourglass. Liam Ballard died under mysterious circumstances, and Michael didn’t want me asking questions. Why? What was he hiding?
I looked at Dru’s laptop, still on the ottoman, mocking me. Would I break my promise if I touched the power button and looked at what popped up on the screen?
I reached toward the computer, and Jack appeared in front of me. I almost yelped in surprise, but the open window and the thought of Michael possibly hearing stopped me. Since I was alone, and lonely, I figured a conversation with a dead guy wouldn’t be a horrible way to pass the afternoon.
“Hello.” His voice still sounded smooth, cultured.
“What’s up?”
“What’s … up?” Jack asked.
“Never mind,” I said as I walked to the window to slide it shut. I leaned back and rested my bottom against the sill. “I meant, how are you?”
“Better than you appear to be.”
“Yes,” I sighed deeply, “but don’t feel too good about it. Better than me is not a hard thing to accomplish.”
“Oh, I don’t believe that at all.” Jack folded his hands together behind his back. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
“Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?” I asked. I held out my arms and looked from my feet to the tips of my fingers.
He pulled his head back in dismay before he erupted into warm, contagious laughter. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing with him.
“Your size makes you seem delicate, like a spiderweb. But the wise fly knows that delicate can also be strong.”
I was suddenly very aware that even if he wasn’t alive, he was a man, and he was in my bedroom. And he’d just paid me the best compliment I’d ever received.
“So”—I paused and made a conscious effort to lower the pitch of my voice—“is there a reason for your visit?”
Jack shrugged. “I wanted to take advantage of human companionship while I had it, unless, of course, you find my presence intrusive?”
Weighing his words, I tried to decide if it did feel intrusive. If he were alive, he would probably fall into the creepy-stalker category. Since he was a rip, did that make him more guardian angel?
“No, it’s all good.” I walked back to sit on the edge of the bed, not trusting my knees. Jack was a grown man. Who happened to be dead. I needed to pull it together.
“To have gone for so long without anyone to talk to,” Jack said in a voice so sweet it would turn vinegar to sugar, “how lucky am I that my first conversation is with someone like you?”
Not an angel.
I fought the urge to fan myself.
“Um … thank you?”
