Page 73 of The Ghost of Ellwood
I didn’t want anyone else.
I dove into the eggs, moaning softly as I chewed. He’d seasoned them perfectly.
“Ben?” He waited for me to look at him before adding, “If you keep making those noises, I will have no choice but to drag you upstairs and have my way with you.”
I swallowed the bite noisily. “Doesn’t sound like a punishment to me.”
Theo grinned. “Eat your food, you beast.”
When I was brave enough to try the bacon, Theo watched me with a furrowed brow. I bit off a piece and slowly chewed, tasting nothing but the char but keeping a light expression, not wanting him to see that it was, indeed, kind of horrible.
“Tastes great,” I said, and sipped more coffee.
His eyes narrowed. “Liar.”
I laughed and reached across the table to place my hand on his. “The eggs and toast taste good.”
“Thank heavens for small mercies.”
A shadow passed by the patio doors.
I quickly stood and spotted a man standing outside the greenhouse. In his paint-covered overalls and John Deere hat, he was instantly recognizable. Old man Henderson was on my property.
Theo growled from behind me, and I inwardly jumped. I hadn’t heard him get up from the table.
“Why is he here?” Theo asked with a snarl.
“Not sure. But I’m going to find out.”
After running upstairs and putting on a shirt and shoes, I came back down and headed for the patio doors in the back. Theo followed me but stopped when he reached the threshold. I squeezed his hand before stepping outside into the sun.
Henderson stood at the greenhouse door, his hands on each side of his face as he peeked inside.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
His head shot around, and relief smoothed the hard lines of his face upon seeing me. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“So, you came onto my property because you thought I was gone?” I questioned, stepping closer. “That’s trespassing.”
“It was mine before it was yours, boy. Watch your tone.”
“The key word in that sentence, Mr. Henderson, iswas.The manorwasyours. Now, it’s mine. I suggest you tell me why you’re here, before I call the cops and let them sort it out.”
“What are you growin’ in here?” he asked, shoving his thumb toward the glass. “I see plants.”
“That’s none of your business, Wayne.”
Enough of the formalities.
“Don’t be short with me, boy. I don’t care what you’re growin’. It could be that pot for all I care. I’m more interested inhowyou’re doin’ it. I could never get this blasted door to open.”
“It was jammed,” I lied, keeping my tone casual. “I was finally able to get inside. Nothing in there now but some flowers and greenery.”
“Hmm.” Wayne stumbled back from the door and neared me, suspicion in his gray eyes. He jabbed a finger in my chest. “You’ve seen him, haven’t ya? The demon in the house?”
I moved his hand aside and stood taller, meeting his hardened gaze with one of my own. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s no demon here.”
“Sure there is!” He flung up his arms. Faint scars covered his wrists and disappeared beneath his long-sleeved shirt. “Seen him with my own two eyes. Chased me out of my damn house, he did.”
