Page 17 of After Life
She shoved to her feet and was back through the door so fast I wondered, for a moment, if I’d just hallucinated the entire visit.
I grabbed my cup of tea and followed her gingerly. “Sandra? I seem to have upset you and I apologize. Might I ask what exactly it was so I can avoid it?”
Sandra stood at the stove, determinedly not looking at me as she grabbed the old-fashioned coffee pot off the back burner. I frowned—there was a fancy pod coffee machine on the counter that Julian had been using so why was she dealing with that antique? “Sandra, I don’t know what I said—”
“Pardon me, Mr. Fellowes,” she muttered, turning with the heavy pot held in her gloved hands. “This is hot, and I don’t want to spill it on the original flooring.” I held up my hands, standing back to let her pass.
She carried the pot to the stone sink and, wordlessly, grabbed a thick white mug from the cabinet in front of her and poured the contents of the pot into it. It wasn’t coffee but a chartreuse-colored brew that smelled like licorice and something green with a hint of iron.
Smells like grass and blood, a morbid little part of my brain noted. She pushed the mug to one side and started decanting the rest of the brew into a stoneware teapot.
“What’s going on?” Julian muttered. I shook my head and shrugged.
“I see you enjoy tea,” she said suddenly, turning to hand me the fresh mug. “This is a local herbal blend. Used to be real popular for a good while here. Tea was hard to come by, and coffee expensive. The locals used to brew this from some of the native plants in the area. Supposed to be relaxing.”
I gingerly accepted the mug. “Um, thank you?”
“Let me know if it needs to be stronger, Mr. Fellowes. I hope it’s suitable.”
“I’m sure it will be.”
She nodded once, sharply, and turned her flinty glare to Julian. “You can get your own coffee.”
I wasn’t sure but I think she muttered bastard under her breath as she grabbed her keys and strode from the kitchen.
The back door slammed in her wake. After a moment, she opened, hissed for Lenny, who had been sleeping under the table, and slammed it again once the dog scrambled after her.
“What the fuck?” Julian muttered. “You saw that too, right?”
I nodded, eyeing my cup warily before nudging it toward Julian. He smirked, pushing his mug of tea toward me. “I doubt they’re poisoned,” I offered. “If they were, why bother with being polite?”
“Maybe treating us like veal? Soften us up then,” he made a throat slicing motion, complete with sound effects.
Whatever face I was making, it amused Julian no end. He chuckled, nudging my ankle with his sock-clad toes. I rolled my eyes and said, “I doubt she wants us dead, but she was rather excited to show you the cemetery at oh-god-o’clock this morning. Really, I should say last night since it was barely past midnight. Nothing before dawn should be morning. Maybe that improved her mood. She got the chance to talk to a like-minded person about something she enjoys?” As much as it pained me to defend her, it seemed possibly true.
Julian wobbled his head to side to side—maybe, maybe not. “My hinky detector is going off around her,” he said. “I’m not one hundred percent sure it wasn’t her in our room last night.”
I sighed—truth be told, I wasn’t either but the idea of her creeping in to watch us sleep scared me more than anything dead ever would. “You’re absolutely certain you weren’t having some sleep paralysis thing?” I asked.
“What’s that saying about couples that have been together a while? They start to look alike? Does that happen for mediums and skeptics, too? We take on one another’s traits?” He took a bracing sip of his coffee and grimaced. “Christ, I think I found what they use to stain the exterior of the house.”
I saluted him with my tea. “My tea is wonderful, so at least one of us is having a nice breakfast.” Taking another sip, I couldn’t help the slight grimace that crossed my face. “Alright, I lied. It needs more sugar. It’s a bit tannic.”
He snorted, spearing a piece of sausage with his fork. “I was thinking we should go into town this morning. I’d like to see that museum Delia mentioned yesterday. Maybe give that romantic walk another try? This time in town and not on the beach?”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” I asked. “The hurricane is still due to hit, isn’t it? What would we do if we got caught out? I—”
Julian smiled, reached across and grabbed my hand to give my fingers a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Oscar. I promise. It’s still a good way’s out, and the island is small. Even if it suddenly got some sort of super jet boost or something and hit within the next few hours, we could get back here before getting washed out to sea.” The look on my face made him blanch and sputter an apology. “Sorry, bad joke. We won’t get washed out to sea. Seriously. Just some wind and a bit of rain if it gets here sooner than expected.”
I pursed my lips as I considered. Hurricane aside, the idea of another walk was honestly a bit boring, but I knew Julian was all about the historic sites, and I really did want to spend alone time with him. I could never fathom the couples who took separate vacations or booked a romantic getaway only to spend the entire time doing things without one another. I didn’t expect to live in Julian’s pocket but the entire point of this sort of holiday was to spend time together. Romantically. Hence the phrase. But the thought of spending all or even a large part of the day wandering the same few blocks of main street and dodging the ghosts there made my head give a weak throb of warning. “Maybe check out the other end of the island for lunch instead of coming back here?”
Julian smirked. “Afraid of Sandra?”
“She’s very mercurial.”
“That’s a tactful way of saying bitchy.”
“Well. You said it, not me.”
