Page 1 of After Life
Chapter 1 – Oscar
The many etiquette classes Grandmere sent me to taught me a lot, but there was one thing they never covered: is it rude to inform your boyfriend that he’s brought you to a painfully haunted town for your romantic getaway?
Julian looked so happy, leaning against the railing on the ferry like a golden retriever with a PhD. He even closed his eyes and tilted his face up to greet the breeze as we approached the dock. The dock where a cluster of men in various stages of raggedness waited, staring out to sea as if waiting for someone or something. Their clothes were old-fashioned—truly old-fashioned, not like my own homage to Victorian finery with the convenience of modern fabrics and cuts. No, these men were in weather-worn garb from centuries past and didn’t seem to notice us at all as the ferry bumped into its slip. Julian turned his grin on me as the ferryboat captain threw a heavy rope onto the old dock, where it landed with a plop. I fought back a shiver, not at all related to the ancient seamen.
The taciturn ferryboat captain, Cap-just-Cap, as he had introduced himself on the mainland, jumped from the boat and wrapped the rope around a large metal cleat with ease. He’d said precisely three words since introducing himself (mind your head), and I’d almost forgotten we weren’t alone until the rope sailed past.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Julian said. “It looks so peaceful. Professor Tomlinson said this end is quite secluded and perfect for a romantic getaway.”
I smiled and nodded in turn, glancing at the dead men who were now drifting toward us. No, not drifting, walking, I realized, but their feet were a good inch or two above the current dock’s surface, their steps following some long-gone path. “It looks very charming,” I said, glancing back to see Julian looking at me with a tinge of anxiety around his eyes. He wanted this getaway to be good for us; a chance to be together without the pressures of the show crushing against us.
No, I couldn’t tell him. He’d be heartbroken. The entire point of this getaway was to get away.
Well. And have very loud sex without having to worry about Ezra, CeCe, Harrison, the neighbors, the mail person, or random passersby overhearing.
(We’re very enthusiastic, apparently).
Broken Palm Island and the tiny resort town of Rosie Sands had been his pick—close enough to our next filming location that we wouldn’t have to rush the trip, far enough from everyone that we wouldn’t have accidental meetings on the street or just stopped by to tell you... visits from production team members.
It was a strange feeling, really. Not necessarily a bad one, but just... strange. Being far from the people we’d been living cheek to jowl with for nearly a year.
Or longer, in the case of Ezra and myself. Even when we didn’t share a hotel room or a flat, we saw one another nearly every day, and on the days we didn’t, we spoke frequently via text or FaceTime.
We stepped off the ferry and onto a dock Julian declared so cool, but I suspected to be nothing more than barnacles holding hands in formation, and were met by a sallow, sad-looking woman in high waisted jeans and a sweater far too heavy for the weather. “Our ride,” Julian murmured, looping his free arm through mine. “Sandra Cochrane. She manages the home we’re staying at.”
Sandra Cochrane was wide-eyed, pinch-mouthed, and near-silent. She held a piece of paper with Weems/Fellowes on it and stared at the ferry with a hungry gaze, fingers crumpling the edges of the paper as the ferry’s horn sounded and one old man tottered onto the ramp with a plastic grocery bag, nearly worn through, dangling heavily from his wrist. As he passed, I took a peek and drew back—it was full of wet, sandy mussels. Just... sitting there. Taking the ferry to the mainland. “Is that even legal?” I asked. “Aren’t there some sort of laws about transporting live animals or seafood?” Or tiny, disgusting monsters with sharp little edges and creepy little pseudopods and... ugh.
I wasn’t expecting an answer, but one would’ve been nice.
Mussels... so creepy. Between them and barnacles, it was a wonder my skeleton didn’t just leap from my body and run away whenever we went to the beach, so badly did they make my skin crawl. Which I probably should have told Julian before he made the final arrangements for this trip, but he’d been so excited when one of the fellows from University of the Upper Coast mentioned the island during one of their conversations. He’d been trying to woo Julian into applying for the lecturer position in their parapsychological research department and part of me suspected he’d mentioned it as a wink wink nudge nudge suggestion, but Julian had pounced on it for us. The idea of spending some time alone together was tantalizing and, frankly, felt like it would be a relief from the pressure and stress of the previous months.
I can handle this, I told myself. Just stay off the beach. There’s plenty to see here without hanging out on the sand all day. I glanced at Julian and smiled. Exhibit A.
Julian tapped his cane on the dock—an affectation he picked up only a day or so before from god only knows where, but I found charming and annoying in turns. Though I suppose, given my own assortment of eccentricities and affectations, I had little room to talk.
Julian caught my eye and his grin broadened. “There’s our ride,” he said, grinning. “Come on. Let’s grab the bags.”
She jerked her chin in the direction of a rusty minivan that had been top of the line in the early nineties but seemed to be a hodge podge of replacement parts and attempts at painting over damage. “The Ford Aerostar of Theseus,” Julian murmured as Sandra shoved the crumpled sign into her hip pocket and wrestled the van door open. “If no part of it was ever touched by the original owner, is it still the same minivan?”
Sandra grunted, giving the door an almighty wrench to force it open about a foot. “Here,” she muttered, her voice far softer than I was expecting, a gravelly sort of whisper. “Gonna have to squish in. Nothin’ else for it.” She strode back to us and grabbed our suitcases—we’d sent most of our things on ahead with Ezra and Harrison, who also had custody of our filming and investigation equipment while Julian and I had our little week-long holiday. Still, the bags weren’t inconsiderable. Two hard-sided cases, each holding a week’s worth of clothes (okay, maybe a bit more than a week—I like to have options) and other items. Sandra heaved them into the cargo area effortlessly before trudging to the driver’s side door and yanking it open as if it had offended her somehow.
“Well,” Julian said with a tinge of unease, “this is definitely quaint.”
“Does quaint mean something different in America than it does in England?” I asked, turning myself sideways to squeeze into the back seat. “Oh, god, I think I’m stuck!”
“It’s your shoe. Hold on,” Julian muttered, bracing his good side against the van to help me wiggle my foot loose from where it’d become wedged between the seat and the door. I popped free with a grunt, twisting to face Julian as Ms. Cochrane started the minivan with a rattling, crunching grind.
“Sorry,” I said. “We need a sec here. Julian’s a bit compromised.”
She looked back over her shoulder and frowned at us both. “Should’ve gotten him in first,” she pointed out. “Then he wouldn’t have to be tryin’ to figure out how to climb in with that cane and jake arm of his.”
I winced—she was right, and guilt nipped at my heels as I scrambled forward to try to help Julian. “Here,” I started, “let me—”
“No, no, it’s fine! I promise,” Julian swore, handing me his cane. “I’m just glad Ezra isn’t here because I know this would end up on social media.”
Julian managed to wiggle his way into the van with minimal bruising and only one low-voiced curse of aggravation, scooting to sit next to me as he slid the door shut with a mighty heave. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I should’ve thought—”
“I didn’t even think about it myself,” he huffed. “It’s fine. I promise. Don’t let this bother you this week, okay? We’re here to relax and... and get to know one another better, okay? No distractions, no filming, no work. Just us.”
