“He’s not paying attention, then. It’s a serious failing with the men in my life. What do you mean, you don’t know if Lydia knows? Don’t you people ever talk?”
“And say what? ‘Mom, do you know that Southie knows that he’s not Dad’s kid?’ Would you want that conversation with Lydia?”
“Oh. No.”
“So to return to Will—”
“I don’t want to return to Will. Will is history.”
“Glad to hear it,” North said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not history,” North said, and kissed her.
Eleven
It was so swift that Andie didn’t have time to close her eyes first. North was just sitting there, very close, and then he was kissing her, and it hit her the way it always had, the heat slamming into her as her mind shorted out, and when he whispered, “Give me another shot, Andie,” she almost said, God, yes, and stopped herself just in time.
“Nothing’s changed,” she said, but she felt the heat of his body through that crisp, white shirt, his breath on her cheek, his hand on her waist—
“Everything’s changed,” he said and kissed her again.
She kissed him back because it felt so good, and more than that, it felt right, but her libido had gotten her into this mess before, so she put a lid on it when he moved his hand to her breast.
“Hold it,” she said against his mouth.
“My bedroom’s next door,” he whispered against hers.
“You should go there.” She pulled away from him, from all that warmth and satisfaction. “I’m drunk, and I didn’t get any sleep last night, and I’m stressed out of my mind because this place has ghosts, which you don’t believe in, and I can’t do this.”
He was still for a moment, and then he kissed her cheek and said, “You’re right, this is lousy timing. I apologize.”
“You don’t need to,” Andie said. “I like the kissing. I like having you close like this. I just need sleep.”
“Fair enough.” North stood up and then held out his hand for her. “Big day tomorrow. I’ve got a private investigator coming down to go through the house to see what’s going on here. We’ll fix whatever it is and then take the kids back to Columbus with us.”
Andie took his hand and let him pull her to her feet, and the alcohol and exhaustion hit her at the same time. “Do you even have a place for the kids to stay in Columbus?”
“We’ve got two of the bedrooms on the second floor ready for them. Mother’s moving in next door with Southie—”
“Oh, poor Southie,” Andie said, and then realized for the first time why Merrill had left Southie his house next door.
“It’s his turn,” North said, without sympathy.
“So it’s going to be you and the kids in the main house? You’re going to feed Alice breakfast?”
“The bedroom Mother’s vacating is also on the second floor. It’s yours if you want it.”
“Me take over Lydia’s bedroom? Living with ghosts would make me less nervous.”
“She likes you.”
“She called me an idiot.”
“That was ten years ago.”
“That was ten minutes ago.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
North capped the bottle of Scotch and put it in his bag, and Andie thought about that bedroom on the second floor. North was thinking she wouldn’t be in that bedroom for long. And he was right.
“I can’t move in,” she told him. “You know what would happen and we’d end up in the same damn mess. I don’t care how much you’ve changed, you’re never going to stop working long enough to have a real relationship—”
“Oh, come on,” North said. “That was ten years ago.”
“—and I need somebody who believes in me—”
“I believe in you.”
“—not somebody who thinks I’m crazy because I want my husband with me or because I see ghosts.”
“I believed in you enough to hire you for these kids.”
“You did that to slow down my marriage to Will,” Andie said. Which was probably a good thing. “It was like the alimony checks. I’d get one every month and think, ‘There you are again,’ and remember the good times, and then I’d remember the bad times, and then I’d have a drink. Moving in with you would be the alimony checks in 3-D.”
“That makes no sense,” North said.
“Well, I’m a little drunk. The smart thing to do is to stay friends. That way we don’t bring our horrible screwed-up relationship into these kids’ lives, we keep things calm and safe for them. Which means our only relationship is a business one.”
“That,” North said, “is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“See?” Andie said. “No respect.”
“I give up.” He leaned over and picked up his overnight bag and kissed her on the cheek as he straightened. “You have a good night. We’ll fight this out in the morning.”
“Nothing to fight about,” Andie said, turning toward the other twin bed.
“I’m in here if you need me,” North said, opening the door to May’s bedroom.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Andie crawled into the twin bed, fully clothed. She just needed to lie down for a minute and then she’d get ready for bed, she was so tired . . .
That man can really kiss, she thought and fell asleep remembering the other things he could do.
Then she fell deeper into sleep, and dreamed that there were people in the room, not ghosts, people, somebody drifting dressed in orange flowers, and she shivered from the cold. Cold, that was a bad sign. She shivered. Had the fire gone out? No, this was a dream, but even in her exhaustion, she couldn’t sleep, something was too wrong. She tossed and turned, and the room grew cold, and she shivered, and thought, This is really wrong.
And then she realized that the cold was inside her, that May was seeping through her veins, invading her muscles. She went numb, not just from the cold, although the cold was everywhere in her, needles of it easing through her, but also because May was sapping her nerves, dulling her mind, and then a wave of nausea hit her.
Nightmare, she thought. May, stop it.
May grew stronger inside her. Just let go, just let go, it’ll be fine—
No! Andie thought, and woke up, and it was all real, May freezing her while she screamed, No, no, NO, but even then May had her, and she was rising from her bed and moving across the nursery, her world in flickering black and white as she staggered past a sleeping Alice like some monster of Frankenstein’s, ice in her veins as May dragged her toward North.
NO! Andie thought and jerked away, felt warmth for a moment as May followed behind a second too late, felt her brain turn inside out as May took her back, the world flicker between color and black and white, and then May opened the door to her bedroom.
North had taken off his shirt and was holding it, staring at the sign over the bed. “This sign is not like you.”
“What are you doing, honey?” May said, trying to keep her voice light as Andie battled to regain control.
“This plaque over the bed,” North said, looking back at the wall. “ ‘Always Kiss Me Goodnight.’ It’s kind of needy, isn’t it?”
“I think it’s romantic,” May said, a little breathless from gritting Andie’s teeth as she fought back.
“You think it’s romantic?” He frowned at her, half naked, gorgeous, and Andie felt May grow warmer, distracted by her need for him, so she gathered her strength and made her move, blanketing May as she reclaimed her body, staggering as she took it back.
North said, “What’s wrong?” and then he was there beside her, putting his arms around her as she gasped for breath, gagging from the displacement, jerking in North’s arms as she fought May for control.
Then her stomach turned over from the vertigo, the whole world distorted in front of her, and May said, Oh, for heaven’s sake, and let go of her, and she threw up on North’s feet.
Andie threw up twice more in the bathroom
, and then she sat on the cold tiled floor and shivered, crying hysterically while North held her. She’d been invaded, frozen out of her own body; May had betrayed her, taken away her will, used her, and the thought of it made her gag again, that cold knifing through her veins, that feeling that she was just a body to be used, that the fact of her meant nothing. She shivered again, couldn’t stop shivering, and North finally turned the shower on and dragged her under the hot water so that the water drenched them both, his arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her up because her knees were still like rubber, letting the water course over her until she was warm again.
Then she turned in his arms and held on to him, on to the fact of him being with her again, and he kissed the top of her head and held her tight until she stopped crying.
Then he turned off the water and said, “Are you all right?” and she said, “No, but I’m getting there,” and lifted her face to smile at him, to show him that everything was fine.
He was looking down at her with so much concern, so clearly seeing her and nothing else, that she burst into tears again, and he pulled her out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her, trying to keep her warm. “I’m going to call a doctor,” he said, and she shook her head.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she said, trying to stop the tears. “I just need to get these wet clothes off—”
“Are your clothes in the nursery or the bedroom?” he said, ignoring the fact that his suit pants were soaked.
“I’ve got a robe here,” Andie said. “You go change and . . . I’ll try to explain.”
She stripped off her wet things, put on her robe, and combed her wet hair, and looked at herself in the mirror, trying to see May in her eyes, wanting to know that it was her, just her, nobody else in there.
Then she went to find North.
He was waiting outside in the hall, dry now in a faded T-shirt and worn sweatpants, and she began to say, “I’m sorry,” but he put his arms around her before she got past “I’m—” and she leaned against him, grateful all over again for the fact of him between her and the rest of her insane life.
“Come here.” He pulled her into her bedroom—May’s bedroom—and sat her down on the edge of the bed, put his arm around her, and looked in her eyes. “What the hell happened?”
“I was possessed.” Even saying it made her feel sick again.
His face went blank. “Possessed.”
“Just listen to me,” she said, exhausted and violated and hopeless. “You don’t have to believe me, but just listen.” He nodded and she went on. “There are ghosts in this house. The nanny was right. The others who left were driven away by them even if they didn’t know the ghosts were here. There are three of them. Two of them came with the house, they’re very old, and they’re just living on . . . need. One of them wants the house and one of them wants Alice.”
“Have you seen these ghosts?” North asked, his voice carefully neutral.
“Yes. But they’re not the ones who possessed me. That was May, the kids’ aunt, their mother’s sister. I think you met her when you came down here after their dad died.”
“Really young,” North said. “Very friendly. Lots of dark curly hair. Looked a little bit like you.”
“More beautiful than I’ll ever be,” Andie said, feeling sick again. “But that’s her. The ghosts killed her.”
North nodded again, his face a mask. “And now she walks?”
“Dances, mostly,” Andie said. “She’s young and she’s bitter about dying and she wants her life back, she wants a do-over.”
“Understandable,” North said.
“And she has a crush on you. So she . . . hijacked me. I was tired and drunk and I fell asleep, and she just . . . moved in, took over, and went to you. That was May you were talking to, not me.”
“I thought it was the Scotch.”
“North, there are ghosts here and they’re real and they’re dangerous. I know you’re never going to believe me, but it’s true. I can’t prove it to you, I can’t show you anything you could take to court, but this house is haunted, and we’re all in danger, and I have to do something about it, which is why we’re having another séance tomorrow.”
He nodded, calm as ever. “How about we all just leave? Pack up everybody right now and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Alice won’t go, and if Alice won’t go, Carter won’t go, and if Alice and Carter won’t go, I won’t go. I know you told Alice she’d have to leave if she was in danger, but we can’t force them, you saw what happened when Will tried. Even if we managed to get her stable after she went crazy, she’d never trust either one of us again. I’m staying until Alice says it’s all right to go.” North shook his head, and Andie said, “I think she’s got a better grip on what’s going on here than anybody else. She and Carter know things I don’t. Until they trust me enough to tell me, we’re not going anywhere.”
“Here’s my concern,” North said, his voice very kind. “You believe in ghosts.”
Andie closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the hopelessness of it all. He was never going to understand, he was never going to believe her. If she hadn’t seen the ghosts, she wouldn’t believe her. “I know. But they’re real, and they’re dangerous, and that’s my big problem now. I understand if you can’t help me, but that’s what I’ve got to fix.”
“I’ll help you. I’ll always help you. I’m just not sure how to do it.” He hesitated. “There’s a psychologist I work with a lot—”
“No,” Andie said. “I’m not crazy and there’s no room for anybody else in this house.”
“Well, Lydia is evicting Kelly and her cameraman as we speak.”
“She can’t. It’s storming like crazy outside. They’ll never get that satellite truck up that drive and out onto the road without wrecking it, and they can’t leave it, it’s worth a fortune. They’re here until the storm stops and the road dries out.”
“Okay.” North rubbed his forehead with his free hand, while his arm tightened around her. “Have the kids been threatened by these ghosts?”
“No.”
“So whoever’s doing this is focusing on you?”
“Nobody’s ‘doing this,’ ” Andie said tiredly. “There are ghosts.” She pushed herself up off the bed, not willing to fight a useless battle. “I know you don’t believe. You know I believe. We’ll just have to leave it there.”
He looked like he was going to say something, and when he didn’t, she said, “I’m really sorry about throwing up on you. That was rude.”
“It really was,” he said, straight-faced.
“Well, it won’t happen again. Thank you for the shower and . . . for being so kind.”
“Are you trying to be funny?” North said. “Because that isn’t.”
“I think if your ex-wife comes to your room in the middle of the night, throws up on your feet, and tells you she’s been possessed, the absolute minimum she has to say when she leaves is, ‘Thank you for being so kind.’ ”
“I think it’s what two people who care about each other should just expect.”
“So if you throw up on my feet, you’re not going to apologize?”
“Nope,” North said, smiling at her, his shoulders broad in that ratty old T-shirt, and she wanted to say, “Let me sleep with you tonight, make this go away,” but instead she said, “Well, I owe you one now anyway, so that would be fair.”
“Stop keeping score, Andie.” He stood up, and she tried not to look at him. “We’re not married anymore but that doesn’t mean we’re not us.”
Andie swallowed. “That’s . . . good. I mean, I agree.” She began to back toward the door. “I have to go now. I’m really tired and . . . Thank you.” Her back hit the door and she escaped into the nursery, taking one last look at him standing tall in the lamplight, expressionless as he watched her go.
She closed the door and looked around to see if May was nearby, waiting to pounce.
The thing was at the foot of Alice’s bed, and
Andie sucked in her breath and then realized that the room was dark, too dark.
The fire was off. Somebody had turned the fire off.
She ran over and fell on her knees, feeling biting ice at her back as she turned the tap, and then the fire whooshed to life, and her back was warm again, and when she turned, there was nothing at the foot of Alice’s bed, nothing in the room.
But somebody had turned the fire off.
She got up and pushed furniture against the doors to the little hall and the gallery. She hesitated before the door to May’s bedroom because North was in there and she trusted him, but she didn’t trust anybody else, so she shoved the worktable up against that door.
Then, barricaded in the nursery now warm from the fire, she tried to think of what to do but her mind was so addled from exhaustion . . .
She checked on Alice, who’d slept through it all, her cheek on Rose Bunny’s furry head, and then she sat down on the other bed, leaned back against the wall, and thought, I have to think, I have to think, I have to . . .
. . . and slept.
When Andie woke, Alice was sitting on the edge of her bed, watching her.
“Good morning, baby,” Andie said, yawning as she sat up.
“I can’t get out,” Alice said, clutching Rose Bunny to her, and Andie remembered that she’d blocked the doors to make sure nobody turned off the fire.
She got up to shove the bureau away from the door to the little hall so Alice could get to the bathroom, yawning again as she shoved. “Sorry,” she said around her yawn, and then she looked at the time. It was past ten. “Oh, no,” she said, waking up completely. “We overslept.”
“I didn’t,” Alice pointed out, and then put Rose Bunny on the bed and went to get ready for the day.
Andie turned off the fire and shoved the table away from the door to May’s bedroom and went in to get her clothes. North was long gone, the bed made, and she put on clean underwear and grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and then went back to the nursery to check on Alice. She was zipping up her jeans when Alice came in from the hall, dressed in leggings and her flounced skirt, and handed her the Bad Witch T-shirt she slept in.