Healing Wounds

An Excerpt From: HEALING WOUNDS

He locked the window latch and the thick muscles of his back and arms rippled. “Do you want me to check on you in a few hours?”

“Yes,” she blurted. She wanted to ask him to stay the whole night. His rippling body, nude in her bed, would definitely keep fear at bay. If only she could be so blunt, but it would be inappropriate and wrong to ask.

With a nod, he left as casually as if they had discussed what she ate for breakfast.

Alone. Goose bumps crept over her flesh. Delores peeked into the bathroom. Only steam moved within it. Her heartbeat slowed a bit. There was nothing wrong with her home. She stepped inside and forced her fists to release the towel around her. The warm water of the shower relaxed some of the tension from of her muscles but she washed quickly.

Ghosts didn’t exist but her imagination obviously could trick her senses. Better to let her thoughts stray to bizarre impossibilities and musings in the daytime when she would use them in her stories.

She grabbed a clean towel and ran into the bedroom to dry there. Shivers shook her fingers as she unzipped her bag and pulled out a comfy jersey and long johns. They weren’t exactly sexy but she hadn’t packed anything sexy. She thought about sleeping nude but she’d never been able to sleep that way. Disappointed, she tugged on the warm cotton.

Her teeth chattered even after she climbed under the covers. The lights were still on but if she turned them off something could sneak up on her. Bissette was right. How could she sleep here, knowing the last two owners had died their first night here? Delores gripped the blankets to her chin and watched the bathroom door.

Time drifted and suddenly, she became aware of someone in the room with her. In the darkness, she couldn’t make out who it was. Why were the lights off? He drew closer and she jerked away. Having misjudged the width of the bed, she fell to the floor in a tangle of blankets that seemed to strangle her.

“Ms. Hunter,” he whispered and his footsteps rounded the bed.

Each clickety-clack sped her heart as she struggled free of the blankets and reached for the bedside light. It lit the room for a brief instant before it toppled over and shattered beside her. Oh no.

“It’s me, Morgan Smith. You hired me earlier this evening.”

Her eyes adjusted and she could make out his form. His voice sounded like Morgan’s but she hadn’t heard enough of it to really judge.

His shoes crunched on the broken porcelain just before he crouched close to her and slipped his arms beneath her. Effortlessly, he lifted her and his musky cologne wafted through the cool air. His hard body flexed and relaxed with each step and the nearness of his face heated hers.

She couldn’t help but slide her arms around his thick neck. Warm, irresistible skin against hers nearly drew a moan from her lips. Her insides melted into the syrupy goodness that slicked her entrance. Before she could press her cheek to his, he gently placed her back on the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

No. She needed more. But his footsteps drifted into soft clicks and the bedroom door closed behind him.

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “I’m such an idiot.”

Carefully, this time, she turned on the other bedside light and peered over the side of the bed at the mess she’d made. She sat up and glanced at the clock. Five-thirty flashed in bright green light. Her feet fell to the hardwood floor and she gasped at the harsh chill that goose-bumped her skin. Vanity somehow pushed her across the room.

In front of the mirror, she checked for eye boogers and drool marks. No. She looked fine, except for the mess of hair. She ran her fingers through it to give it that tousled, I-just-got-up-and-don’t-I-look-great look. At the approach of his footsteps, Delores ran back to bed and quickly slipped beneath the covers.

Morgan appeared in the doorway with a broom and dustpan. He seemed surprised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No. I’m sorry. I uh…” She laughed at how stupidly she’d reacted. “I don’t usually wake up like that. It’s just the history of this place.”

Morgan swept the sharp shards into a pile. “Why did you buy it if it scares you?”

Delores hoped she wouldn’t sound as foolish as she did to Bissette. “I like it. It’s like a horror movie.”

“You like being scared?”

“To a certain extent. Fear makes the best dreams.”

He turned to her and his eyes seemed to cut holes into her soul. “Do you want me to scare you?”

Breath halted in her chest. “No. I think this place scares me enough.” She didn’t want to know how he would scare her. Suspicion bubbled up in her throat as bile. She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d come so late at night on her first day here. Why did he wait six months to cancel his former employer’s event? “Did you ever meet the other two who died here?”

“No.” He brushed the shards into the dustpan and dumped them in the garbage. “You should be careful walking here with bare feet. There might be some pieces I didn’t find.”

“Why didn’t you try to cancel the event earlier?” Her heart raced as she asked the question and she wished she hadn’t from the still expression on his face.

“I thought you said you don’t want me to scare you.”

His reply numbed her face and squeezed her chest, despite its intent. “I don’t.”

He moved toward the door that divided their rooms.

“Wait!” Delores didn’t want to be alone. She’d rather chance Morgan.

He turned and stared.

She wanted to ask if he’d stay until she fell asleep but that would sound childish. Her mind searched for something to say instead. Noticing he was still fully dressed, she asked, “Don’t you sleep?”

“Yes,” he replied plainly and left.

Light peeked through the tiny keyhole of his door. Oxidized green, the ancient bronze plate bore no scratches from a clumsy key. Never locked?

Curiosity calmed the rhythm of her heart and pulled her out of bed. She shouldn’t. It was wrong but she couldn’t resist. She crept to the Jack and Jill door and dropped to her knees to peer inside. The plain beige comforter on his bed hadn’t been turned down. She craned her neck to see a different angle. He stared back at her, odd expression on his face.

Delores fell back. Maybe he didn’t see. Maybe he was just looking at the door. She rushed back to bed and hid under the covers.

The door opened and she closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep.

CLOSE WINDOW