Charlotte
A week later we were back in New York. I tried to convince George I could go alone, hoping to give him a little break from the insanity being married to me brought about, but he wouldn’t hear of it. There was no way he was letting me go by myself.
He’d been tense the whole drive, his knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly, and I knew saying anything would make it worse, but after a few hours, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you okay?” I finally asked just before we entered the city.
He gave me a quick smile before focusing on the road again. “I’m fine, babe. Just frustrated with this traffic.” It was true, the traffic was horrendous, but I knew it was more than the traffic; he would never admit it, though. As long as I was worried about Click, he’d be tense. We’d planned on going to the Hell House before checking into the hotel, and I hoped we could plan on a simpler evening afterwards.
“Maybe we could curl up and watch some DIY show, like a normal couple. That sounds like pure bliss,” I joked, hoping to make him smile. Our situation sucked, but we were good at laughing about the hard stuff for the most part. George did smile, but I could tell it was more to humor me than it was genuine.
He took my hand and squeezed it. “That sounds nice. I’d like to be out of the Hell House before dark,” George reluctantly acquiesced.
“Definitely,” I agreed.
A couple of hours later, hand-in-hand, we approached the house, every nerve in my body tingling as I sensed eyes on me before we’d even stepped foot on the property.
When my steps slowed, George knew. “She sees you already,” he said, squeezing my hand protectively.
With each visit, I never made it in the house without Agnus staring me down and ripping into me about my promise to help her. This time was no different. When she morphed before me, I paused. “When will you help me?” she bit out through gritted teeth, the muscles in her face and neck tight.
Truthfully, knowing what she’d done, the last thing in the world I wanted to do was to help her, but more than that, I didn’t know how to help her. Her unfinished business wasn’t anything I could help her with. She’d pegged her reason for being trapped in limbo on the fact that she needed someone to know what she’d done to the girls—she claimed she needed absolution—but that wasn’t it because she wasn’t sorry. The one thing keeping her in limbo was fear. She was afraid of what was next for her, and that was the anchor that tied her here. The real reason Agnus couldn’t cross over was because she didn’t really want to go, which meant there was nothing I could do for her. Of course, I didn’t dare tell her that. If she discovered my promise to aide her in crossing over was bullshit, she’d harass me to the point I wouldn’t be able to enter the house at all, and I couldn’t risk that while Click was still inside. Inhaling a deep breath, I ignored her, not even looking at her as I brushed past her and entered the house. We’d had this conversation several times. I’d made it very clear I’d only help her after all of the girls had crossed over.
“Answer me!” she shouted belligerently as I ascended the stairs. As a soul, I knew she couldn’t touch me, or harm me physically, but her hostility still made me feel on edge. No one likes being shouted at. Again, I didn’t respond; I refused to engage with her and reinforce her bad behavior with a reaction. Just as before, she followed me, hurling her insults the whole way, but she always stopped short of entering Click’s room. For some reason she never followed me in, a small victory I was grateful for—I wouldn’t be able to focus on Click with Agnus constantly berating me.
Click was trapped in a bedroom with no window, and even with the door open, the light from the hall windows did little to illuminate the room, no matter the time of day. Turning on the solar lantern we’d brought, I sat on the floor and watched the young girl. She didn’t acknowledge my presence, or even that the room was now lit. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve been back. I’ve thought about you every day, sweet girl.” When she didn’t respond to my greeting, I sat quietly and observed her. I stared at her—studied her face, the blank look in her eyes, and even counted her steps—wondering if there was any rhyme or reason to it, but nothing surfaced for me. Was she traumatized? Maybe whatever horrible things that had happened to her in this house caused some kind of psychological snap and she numbed out. I’d heard of such things. If that were the case, I was useless to her.
Dropping my head in my hands, I let out a frustrated growl. How the hell are you going to help her, Charlotte?
George’s hand gently gripped my shoulder. “You’ll figure it out,” he assured me. “She’s been here for years…if it takes one more to figure out how to help her cross over, I don’t think she’ll mind much.”
I nodded, unable to fault his reasoning, but I hated the thought of taking an entire year to help the poor girl. I wanted to help her now. As I stood and met his stare, the weight of my ineptitude overwhelmed me, and I blurted out, “How could God let this happen?” His gaze fell and I knew my question had caught him off guard. I have never struggled with my beliefs—whether or not there really was a God—as much as I had since finding Click, and I just couldn’t get the question out of my head. Feeling foolish, I started to turn back to Click, but he stopped me.
“Why would He let anything bad happen?” He let out a ragged breath, his eyes filled with pain. “Charlotte, I wasn’t raised around religion like you were, but my parents brought us up to believe in God. My brother died—my twin—and I swore I’d never forgive God for taking my best friend from me, and I was well on my way to keeping that promise. Then you showed up. And I was suddenly staring down a reason to forgive Him. There was a verse from Isaiah on the program at Ike’s memorial about God giving you beauty for ashes, or something like that.”
I nodded, knowing the verse. “It was God’s promise to deliver his people from their plight.”
“Well, I don’t know all that, but I remember that line. I thought it was bullshit,” George huffed. “Until you. Maybe God did let Ike be taken, but He also brought me you.”
Pushing up on my toes, I wrapped my arms around his neck. I had no idea what I’d expected him to say when I asked him such a deep question, but he’d handled it well and had given me something to hold on to. I wasn’t sure what the beauty for ashes was in this situation with Click, but George had reminded me that in the past, when we’d stood neck deep in ash, we’d found beauty before us.
I spent another hour talking to Click, hoping maybe if I created a familiarity with her, at some point she’d snap to and I could help her. Eventually, George insisted we head back to the hotel. We had a quiet dinner at the hotel bar and decided to hunker down in the room for the night. Hiding out had become our thing; I was less likely to see spirits if we weren’t out and about.
“That thing looks like it could fit three of you in it,” George said of the hotel robe I’d opted for after showering off the filth of the Hell House. He chuckled as I attempted to wrap the ridiculous amount of fabric around me.
“You talking to Char?” Cameron’s voice exploded from George’s phone.
“Hi, Cameron!” I hollered as George turned his phone so I could see the screen, revealing a grinning Cameron in the FaceTime window.
“Char! How’s my favorite sister-in-law?”
“I’m your only sister-in-law,” I pointed out.
“Technicality,” he jested. “How you doing, little sis?” I rolled my eyes. George’s much-younger brother loved pointing out the fact he towered over me in height.
“I’m good. You behaving?” I asked in my most maternal tone, popping a hand on my hip, indicating he’d better be.
“Char, I can’t help it if the ladies are throwing themselves at me down here.” He shook his head ruefully and cut his gaze off camera, feigning dismay before adding, “I’m breaking hearts left and right.”
“You’re so full of crap,” I chuckled.
He grinned, his perfect white teeth filling his smile. “But you love me anyway.”
“Yeah, I do,” I agreed. “Just try not to ruin too many ladies for the rest of the male sex, okay?”
“Yes ma’am. And hey…George is right, that robe could fit three of you.”
I pulled the clip from my hair, letting it fall down my back before combing my fingers through it. “Well, when he hangs up with you, maybe I’ll see if he can fit in it with me.” I winked at George playfully. George’s head jerked toward me before he immediately flipped his cell screen back to him.
“Gotta go, Cam. Wear condoms.”
Whatever Cameron said was lost as George wasted no time ending the video call and tossed his phone on the nightstand. Waggling his brows at me, he slunk comically around the king-size bed toward me in an exaggerated predator’s lope. “So what were you saying about…fitting me in?”
I laughed so hard I snorted, then covered my mouth in embarrassment. It’s a wonder I’ve ever managed to be intimate with a man, given how much of a dork I am.
George grinned wickedly. “Now...you see there…that’s doing things to me,” he crooned.
“Don’t use cheesy sexual innuendos. It makes me snort-laugh, which isn’t sexy at all,” I groaned through my hand.
“Oh,” he replied, deepening his voice to a sultry growl before continuing, “I beg to differ. Why, your snort has excited all my…” he paused for effect “…man places.”
This time I didn’t even try to suppress the snort as I laughed at his antics. “Man places,” I finally managed to say between residual giggles. “Nice, babe.”
Still giggling, I grabbed my brush from the dresser, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. I felt the mattress dip as I began brushing my hair and pretended I didn’t see George crawling seductively across the bed toward me in the mirror, enjoying this rare playful moment we were sharing and not wanting it to end. I tried in vain to stifle a whimper as he reached me and nuzzled the crook of my neck, kissing it softly. I loved it when he kissed me there.
“Let me do it, babe,” he said stopping my hand, our eyes meeting in the reflection of the mirror as I relinquished the brush. Gathering my hair in his hand, he began gently brushing the ends. I loved the soft way he took control; it grounded me in a way I’d never known was possible. As he focused on his task, I let my gaze drift over his reflection. Shirtless, the dim light danced over his perfect shoulders as he moved, enhancing his already swoon-worthy looks. The man was a feast for the eyes, but the real treasure was his kind genuine heart. I knew he doubted it, that he struggled to forgive himself for his past, but he had a truly good soul.
The simplicity of the moment felt so natural, so normal, that the weight of my abilities fell away, and I caught a glimpse of life without the dead always on my doorstep. A vision of George brushing the hair of a little girl, eyes matching mine and hair the color of his, while she played with her dolls, floated through my mind, and it was so beautiful it nearly took my breath away. It had been a long couple of years, and the last few months even longer, but he’d stood by me and never complained. I wanted more than anything to help Click, not just because she needed it, but so I could give my husband the life and family we’d dreamed about on that early summer night in New York because in this moment, I finally knew I wanted it too. How lucky was I that this man wanted to build a family with me?
His gaze pierced mine as they met again through the mirror, sending a heated rush down my spine. The muscle in his jaw ticked as he scorched me with his eyes, causing me to run my tongue across my suddenly dry lips. I slowly untied the robe’s sash, as I kept my eyes fixed on his, and slipped the robe over my shoulders to let it pool at my waist, delighting in the surge of heat in his eyes. Shifting from his knees to sit behind me, his legs on either side of mine, he set the brush aside and ran his free hand along my shoulder as he gently coaxed my head to the side with the hand still fisted in my hair, giving him access to my neck. He drifted slowly closer, watching me as he moved, breaking eye contact only just before he skimmed the tip of his nose along the nape of my neck, his warm breath tickling it. A moan escaped as I reveled in his touch.
“Do you ever worry about me?” he whispered against my neck. I blinked in confusion, caught somewhere between lust and worry as I met his clouded gaze in the mirror. “I mean the drugs and all? Do you ever worry I’ll do it again?”
Where had that come from? Was he thinking about doing drugs again?
He smiled as he watched me, seemingly reading my mind through my expression, adding, “No, babe. I don’t want to. I just meant…there are different kinds of highs in life.” He kissed my shoulder, his one hand still holding my hair, the other snaking around my waist until the tips of his fingers brushed my inner thigh. I leaned against him, the excitement of his touch shooting a delicious ache through me. “I just mean…you, babe.” His voice was husky, riddled with want. “You’re my drug. You are my greatest high.” Sliding his hand up, he stroked me softly, groaning when he felt just how excited his touch had made me. Lost in the sensations, I let my head lull back until he gently commanded, “Look at me, Charlotte.”
I met his stare in the mirror, his hand still moving between my legs. I was panting as he stroked, building me higher. “Does that feel good?”
I whimpered in response, my breath shuddering as my hips moved against his touch, yearning for more. It did; he knew it did.
“That’s my high, Charlotte. Making you happy. Making you feel good. It’s everything to me.”
Something in me broke, something that felt so good it hurt. I cried out in pain and pleasure, destroyed in the best way. Why did it hurt to be loved so much? It scared me, but it was everything to me. George sacrificed so much for me, gave so much. Standing, I pulled the robe away and tossed it as I turned to him. Climbing on his lap, I held his face in my hands as I peered into his dark eyes. This night would be for him. I would worship him. I needed to—I needed to love this man like the gift he was.
“I couldn’t be without you, George,” I confessed, every ounce of conviction I felt emboldening my tone. “I’d be lost without you.” He closed his eyes and sighed, his features easing the slightest bit, as if my words had soothed a pain hidden deep within him. Had he doubted this? Could he not see—feel—how much I needed him? The thought wrenched my heart. I held his face and stroked his cheeks gently with my thumbs. “If I don’t say it, show it enough, I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t cry, babe,” he whispered as he wiped a tear from my cheek. I hadn’t realized I was crying, but it made sense. Love is terrifying. It has the power to seep its way through your body like heroin, giving you the most exquisite high, or blaze you over and scorch you to ash. So many people chase it, while others run away. We’re addicted to the pleasure and the pain. I understood what he meant about me being his high—George McDermott was my drug of choice. And it terrified me.
“I mean it, babe,” I shuddered, fighting the emotion choking me. “When this…gift,” I hesitated, not liking that description. Calling it a gift always felt wrong to me. I knew most people thought of it that way; thought I was so blessed to be able to see the dead, but it never felt like a blessing to me. George watched me intently, his expression patient as he waited for me to find the words. “Whenever it gets so heavy I think I’ll crush under the weight, you’re always there, lifting it from my shoulders and carrying it for me.”
His stare darted away for a moment before flicking back to mine. “I always feel like I’m failing this husband gig, ya know? I want to protect you from it all, but I’m helpless against what I can’t see. I hate that.”
Gripping his face tighter, I pressed my forehead to his, my heart fisting in my chest. I needed to make him believe he was my hero, my safe place, my rock. No, my husband would never be able to shield me from the spirits I saw, but he never stopped trying. He was always there, and that meant everything to me.
I shifted closer to him, my breasts pressing against his hard chest as he wrapped his arms around me. “George McDermott,” I whispered. “I could not bear this life without you. Do you understand that? Before I came to Warm Springs, before I met you…all I wanted was for it to end. You make me want to endure, George. You give me the strength to endure.”
His strong hand gripped the back of my neck and squeezed. We made love that night with a fierceness we hadn’t had before. It was slow and raw, and beautiful.