Page 38 of After Life
Jeremiah appeared before me, solid-seeming and scowling. “I know what it means,” he reiterated. “But you need to. It’s important you—” He paused, glanced past me, and pressed his lips into a thin line before vanishing.
“Doctor Weems said you were up here,” Sandra said, coming up the stairs at a clip. “I wanted to do a final check before the storm made landfall.”
My stomach clenched in anxious fear as Sandra came into view at the top of the stairs. Compared to her earlier mien, she was positively cheerful. A small, true smile graced her lips, and her cheeks were rosy as she reached the top of the steps. It was unsettling and set off a thousand warning bells in my head. The cool brush of Jeremiah’s presence settled beside me, and I fancied, for just a moment, he was trying to help me, maybe protect me.
Or maybe that was just wistful thinking because all I wanted in that moment was to not be stuck between Sandra and the dead end of a corridor.
“He’s in the kitchen,” she added. “I’m not sure if we’ll lose power but it’s likely, so I brought over some things that didn’t need to be reheated, and the old camping kettle and coffee pot from the cottage.” She stopped right in front of me and her smile grew to positively beaming proportions. “I have to apologize for my behavior earlier,” she said. “I was waiting on some news and was afraid it would be bad. But,” she paused, her gaze flicking over me greedily, “the news is excellent. And I realized I was taking my anxiety and upset out on you and Doctor Weems. Between my mood and my rather unfortunate tendency to just be terrible with people...” She trailed off with a self-deprecating shrug. “I do apologize. I know that I can’t make up for any discomfort I’ve caused y’all during your say but I hope the remainder of your time is pleasant and I can at least offer my sincere apologies for any upset.”
I nodded slowly. “That’s... a lot,” I said. “I appreciate your candor and explanation. And I’m glad your news is good.”
Sandra’s gaze roamed over me again and, for a moment, I wondered if she was trying to pull me, cornering me upstairs away from Julian and trying to ingratiate herself with apologies. But when she met my eyes, she darted her gaze past me, eyes widening ever so slightly. “Mr. Fellowes, as I said earlier, I looked you up after y’all arrived. I... I have to ask... Is Jeremiah Tibbins here with us?”
“I am,” the man—Jeremiah Tibbins now—said. “And she knows it. She’s testing you.”
Sandra’s face didn’t change but something about her demeanor chilled just a bit, enough to notice. On the surface, she was still smiling and a bit deferential but the way she stood, the way her hands curled into loose fists at her sides... “He is,” I said. “And he says that you know.”
A bark of laughter escaped her. “How would I know that? It’s not as if he speaks to me.”
He grunted an annoyed laugh. “Sandra, for the love of god—”
“Are you fighting?” I demanded, glancing between Sandra and the ghost of Jeremiah Tibbins. “Do you two know each other?”
Sandra stiffened. “Do I know who?”
“Ms. Cochrane, I don’t appreciate being tested,” I said sternly. Typically, I brushed off such things, but this one felt weird. It was beyond Oh yeah, if you’re a medium, how’s Elvis doing or demands to tell them their dead gran’s name in order to prove I really could speak with ghosts. This felt far more intimate, more exploratory.
“I’m not testing,” she snapped. “His ghost is supposed to haunt this house, waiting for his lover to return, and I wondered...” She glanced past me again, her smile well and truly gone. “It’s a stupid story,” she muttered. “Like anyone would wait for their one true love, you know?”
Jeremiah sighed heavily. “For god’s sake, woman!”
Oh my god, I’m in the middle of a lover’s spat and one of them is dead!
“You said Julian was in the kitchen? I should check on him. His hip,” I said, making a vague gesture at my own. She glared as I edged past her, toward the stairs. Jeremiah Tibbins remained in the corridor, his gaze fixed solely on Sandra Cochrane, neither of them paying any mind as I hurried down the stairs.
Julian was indeed in the kitchen, where she said he’d be. He’d made a sandwich of cold cuts and pickles from the hamper Sandra had brought over, another one sitting on a plate waiting for me next to a bottle of soda and an empty glass. “I didn’t feel like dealing with making sweet tea right now,” he said. “But figured we could use the caffeine boost if we’re digging into that book when Sandra’s gone.” He paused mid-chew. “What’s that look on your face?”
“You will never believe me,” I muttered, taking up the seat across from him. The sound of heavy footsteps sounded overhead, followed by lighter but no less angry ones heading in the opposite direction, toward the stairs. A few moments later, Sandra strode through the kitchen without a backward glance and snapped her fingers for Lenny, who emerged from his spot in the shadows by the pantry and followed her out the back door, which she slammed in her wake.
Julian raised a brow. “Anything to do with that?”
“Okay, just... keep that open mind you’ve developed, alright?” I told him about the encounter upstairs, watching as his eyes widened to near comical proportions and his sandwich was forgotten.
“So, you’re telling me she’s dating a dead guy?”
“Well,” I hedged. “A ghost, but he definitely died at some point before they started dating. Or whatever it is they’re doing.”
“Can ghosts do that?” he asked, face screwing up in thought. “I mean, with the living? Or, hell, with each other even?”
“I have no idea. I admit it’s something that I wondered when I was younger, but I’ve never had the audacity to ask them.”
More stomping upstairs, then the sound of something crashing.
I knew whatever it was, we wouldn’t find it on this side of the veil.
“Jesus,” Julian muttered. “I’d think being dead meant no more lover’s spats. And how do you even get into a romantic relationship with a ghost? Is it some sort of weird crush? Like a limerence thing?”
“Limerence?”
