Page 34 of My Blind Date is a Ghost

“I guess she thought we had more in common that we realized,” Beckett says.

“That may be true,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean we need to date each other.”

“I agree,” he says, lifting his glass. “So, let’s just call this a nice dinner between friends.”

I pick up my glass and we clink them together before taking a drink.

“Wow,” I say. “That’s really good. It’s so sweet.”

“Is it anything like the wine you remember?”

I chuckle. “Not at all. I actually wasn’t very fond of wine, but it was one of the few things women drank in my time. I always thought it was rather bitter.”

“Women love wine nowadays,” he says. “You’ll have to ask Rachel for some rosé. I hear ladies really like that.”

“So how did you come to be on this date?” I ask.

“Oh…umm…” He hesitates.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to upset you,” he says. “But I was looking into your case.”

I feel my cheeks go hot. “What?”

“I mean, why you woke up. It really has Beverly in a twist.”

I take a larger swig of my wine. “I asked you both to drop it.”

“I know,” he says, holding up his hands in defense. “But Beverly is right. Whoever did this has phenomenal power. They could be a danger to the town. I only want to protect you, to protect everyone.”

I fuss with the stem of my wine glass for a moment. I don’t want to admit that he’s right. I don’t want to know why this happened; I only want to appreciate it.

“Fine,” I say. “But only because I want to thank whoever it was.”

He chuckles. “Agreed.”

“But I don’t want you looking into my past,” I say. “I am at peace with what happened. I want everyone to let it go.”

“I understand,” he says. He pulls out his cell phone and flips to a picture to show me. “Do you recognize this?”

It’s just a bunch of leaves and dirt. But after a moment, I realize that there is a shape on the ground. I shake my head. “No. Why?”

“I think this is where you woke up. I think someone was performing some sort of ritual. You didn’t see anyone when you woke up, right?”

I shake my head as he puts his phone away. “No. I was alone. But I was disoriented. And it was dark. Maybe I just didn’t see them.”

“Hmm. But surely they would have seen you. It seems that they woke you up intentionally. Why did they let you leave without speaking to you?”

I sigh and shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t really want to think about it.”

“Sure, I’m sorry,” he says. “I guess you just wanted a nice night out.”

“I thought I was going to get a quiet night alone,” I say, picking up the book and showing it to him. “Beverly gave me this book by a Spiritualist who used to claim to speak to the dead. She thought I might find it interesting or useful.”

“Are you going to keep trying to talk to the dead?” he asks.

I sigh and look at the window. The man from before is back. I give him a smile. “Yeah, I think I am.”

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