Page 16 of A Brambleberry Summer

Wyatt squeezed out the antibiotic cream on the bandage before sticking it onto her skin.

“That is smart.”

“A little trick my mother taught me.”

“She sounds like a very wise woman.”

He smiled a little and she again had to order her nerves to behave. “She is. She’s a judge in Portland. That’s where Carrie and I grew up.”

“I thought your mother was friends with Abigail.” She frowned a little, trying to make the connection.

“She was, sort of. It was really our grandmother who was best friends with Abigail. My mother grew up here, in a house not far from Brambleberry House. Her parents lived there until they died several years ago. I can remember visiting Abigail a few times, back in the days when the house was all one unit, with no apartments.”

The curtains suddenly fluttered and Hank, who had just settled down on the kitchen rug, rose again to sniff at the air. Rosa could swear she suddenly smelled freesia.

“Do you smell that?”

He sniffed. “What?”

“Flowers.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I smell vanilla and berries. It’s making me hungry.”

She could feel herself flush and was grateful he probably could not tell with her brown skin. That was her shampoo, probably.

“I thought I smelled freesia. That was Abigail’s signature scent.”

“Why would it still smell like her?”

“My aunt and her friend who own the house think Abigail still wanders through the house. Do not worry. If she is here, she is a kind spirit, I think.”

“Do you buy that?”

“Not really. Sometimes I must wonder, though.”

He seemed to take the news of a ghost in stride. “I suppose I’m a big skeptic. I haven’t noticed anything in the time we’ve been living here.”

“Did you not see Hank standing in the corner, looking at nothing? Fiona sometimes does that. She makes me wonder what she can see that I cannot.”

“I hadn’t really noticed.”

She studied him. “Would you mind if Abigail were still hanging about?”

“Not really. I remember her as being very kind when I was a boy. She always gave me butterscotch candy.”

He smiled a little at the memory.

“As long as she doesn’t watch me while I sleep, we should get along fine.”

Rosa had a hard enough time not thinking about him sleeping a few floors below her. She didn’t need another reason to picture it.

“I do not know if you can tell a ghost she is not welcome in your bedroom.”

He smiled. It wasn’t a huge smile and certainly not anything as overt as laughter. She still found it enormously appealing.

She wanted to stare at his mouth, will his lips to lift again into a smile as heat soaked through her.

After an awkward moment, she forced herself to look away. She slid her hand back and pressed it into her stomach against the silly butterflies dancing there.

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