Page 7 of Intrigued
She cracked a tiny smile. “Oh, Holly, how I’ve missed you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So have you found something to do with yourself?”
Bryn smirked. “That’s why you’re here.”
I bit my lip. Oh, goodness, the suspense was killing me, and bringing that kind of anxiety into my life was so like Bryn. “So why won’t you just tell me now?”
Her gaze rolled around the room then landed curiously on me. “Do you believe in ghosts?” She was whispering again.
I turned my chin slightly to the right. Her question seemed to have come out of left field. “Not really. I believe the brain is a very powerful organ. It could make us conjure ghosts, make us see things that haunt us.”
She studied me with one eye narrowed. I waited for her to say something, but she just kept looking at me that way.
“What?” I asked then shifted in my seat.
“You’re still a pragmatist.”
I leaned toward Bryn and kept my volume low. “So you don’t want to tell me why you asked me to spend Christmas with your family because you think a ghost will hear you?”
“I invited you here because I didn’t want you to spend the holiday alone.”
I narrowed an eye. “Is that so?”
“It is so,” she said in a tone that hinted she did not want her intentions called into question.
But a thrown hint had never stopped me. “Well, it was crystal clear to me that you, Bronwyn Henrietta Christmas, looked me up. I’m not a public figure. No one is going to learn my father is in prison unless she or he snoops around in my life. But that’s okay. I’m here to oblige you, especially if it settles the debt I owe to your family.”
She folded her hands on her lap with carefully crafted composure. “Frankly, Holls, it was you who turned my family’s generous offer into a debt. You never owed us a dime. You can pack your things and leave right now if you like, and you still wouldn’t have to pay us a thing, and”—her mouth pulled into a small smile—“I will always check up on you every now and then. I don’t have many friends in my life, but I always felt as though you were one of the few.”
We stared at each other for a few beats. Perhaps she was looking for signs of whether or not I believed her. And I was assessing her credibility.
I cracked a tiny smile. “Okay. Score one for you.”
“Then you believe me?” she asked.
“Yes, I do.”
She sighed with relief. “Good for me, because it’s really hard to get one in the goal with you as an opponent.”
We laughed.
“But I wanted to tell you about my experience with Amelia,” she said after our laughter simmered.
I crossed my legs, settling into my seat. “I’m listening.”
Bryn’s shoulders slumped as she rubbed her palms across her thighs. “Unlike you, I believe in ghosts but not in the paranormal sense.” She pointed at the bed where I would be sleeping. “I was right there when Amelia took her last breath, sitting at her bedside. When I asked if she was going to apologize for being a shitty mother, she said, ‘I have nothing to be sorry for,’ and then looked away.”
What a gripping memory. The feeling of what that moment must’ve been like for Bryn coursed through me. “And you didn’t press her to explain what she meant?” I asked.
She pursed her lips as she shook her head.
“Wow. I’m sorry to hear that. What doyouthink she meant by that?”
Bryn raised a hand, signaling me to stop pushing. Her eyes were watery. She had never been a crier. I suspected that hadn’t changed. But I gave her a moment to let the sadness pass.
Finally, she smiled, and I took it as a sign that she was ready for us to move our conversation forward.
“What about your brother Jasper?” I asked. Just saying his name made my heart flutter. I wished I knew why he had such an effect on me.
