Page 38 of Having the Time of My Midlife

“Is there a key hidden anywhere?” I asked, hoping to God there was.

I began to add up all the things that could go wrong. A security system was at the top of the list. I also didn’t want to break a window that Sam’s wife would have to pay to get repaired. If she was living on a fixed income, which I assumed she was, she didn’t need the expense of replacing a window.

Sam nodded and pointed at the welcome mat on the front porch as we quietly approached the house.

Quickly grabbing the key, I’d stayed low and made my way around the house. My heart had been beating so loud I was sure it would wake up the dead.

Shaking my head, I’d grinned. I’d already woken up the dead—a whole hell of a lot of them.

“Sam, do you have a dog?” I asked, stopping my forward motion and regretting I hadn’t put a few dog treats into the pocket of my all-black break-in attire.

“Naawwwooo,” he grunted softly.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I bellycrawled the rest of the way to the back door. I would be filthy when I got home, but I figured this was the way to do it. Of course, I had no clue how to do it, but I planned to fake it till I made it on this one.

“Is the cookie jar in the kitchen?” I asked, slowly rising and peeking through the windowpane on the back door. Thankfully, the light over the sink was on and illuminated the countertop. “Is that it on the counter?”

Sam nodded. Maybe this would be easier than I’d originally thought. Open the door. Grab the glasses. Put them on the counter by the teapot and haul ass out. What could go wrong?

So much. So much could go wrong.

“Let’s do this,” I whispered to Sam—and then froze.

My dear dead buddy was crying… or trying to. It was heartbreaking and my stomach clenched. Had I done the right thing? Was this too painful for Sam?

Shit.

“Sam,” I said, reaching out to touch his withered, semi-transparent cheek. “If you don’t want to go through with this, we can leave now.”

“Waauufff lassssh gaussaus,” he said through his anguish. “Fiiauxxx.”

Breathing in and exhaling slowly, I nodded. “I’ll fix this for you. I promise. Stay here.”

Sam nodded and blew me a kiss. It made an unappealing squishy sound and I almost gagged. However, it was the thought and the love behind the gesture that enabled me to smile athim.

My hands fumbled clumsily as I pushed the key into the lock and prayed hard that there wasn’t an alarm about to go off. I had no clue who I was praying to since I didn’t really believe, but it felt like a good thing to do. My head felt woozy and my mouth went dry. While everything around me seemed like real time, my movements felt like I was under water.

I was not cut out for a life of crime. If I wasn’t doing something good, I’d be out of here so fast Sam’s barely attached head would spin. Anxiety gripped me and my feet turned into lead weights. If Sam wasn’t smiling at me so hopefully, I would have turned and ran.

“Here goes nothing,” I whispered as I tiptoed across the kitchen.

The kitchen was warm and inviting—all done in blue and white and immaculate. It smelled like lemon cleaner and cookies. I felt immediate comfort and terror at the same time. Breaking and entering didn’t include admiring décor. I was sure of that.

The glasses were right where I’d seen them in Sam’s mind earlier and, thankfully, so was the teapot. Quickly and silently, I put the glasses with the chain holding the wedding ring next to the teapot. Not hard at all. However, I almost puked when I replaced the cookie jar lid and made a loud noise. I wasn’t very good at this. I was far more skilled at gluing dead people’s appendages back on. I knew I couldn’t be good at everything, but a little stealth would have come in handy right now.

“Crap,” I hissed as I heard a movement from upstairs.

Swiftly looking around to make sure I had completed the bizarre mission, I hightailed it back out of the door and locked it with the key.

“Come on, Sam,” I said as I hit the ground and began to bellycrawl back around the house.

Sam didn’t move. His partial nose was pressed to the glass and he waited.

Damn it, what was I supposed to do now? Did I leave him? Would he be able to find his way back to my house? Was I being ridiculous? Yes. He’d found my house once. He could find it again. However, his sense of direction sucked and it could take him days to find me.

I did the only thing I could do. I did the crazy-stupid thing. Why? Because Sam meant something to me. I loved him and I was batshit nuts. I bellycrawled back to where he stood… or floated, to be more accurate.

“We have to leave,” I whispered as I peeked into the kitchen.

---