AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Please!” I screamed again, burying my face in his shirt.
“Jane, dear, it’s time to stop that. As much as I appreciate it, it’s too late.”
I looked up and locked eyes with the former Mr. Wainwright. He was wearing the same gray cardigan and brown corduroy ensemble as the body lying on the floor, only more transparent. He smiled gently.
“Mr. Wainwright?” I whimpered. “What’s going on?”
“To a young woman of your intelligence, Jane, I would hope it would be obvious.” I shook my head, still sniffling. “I’m a ghost, Jane, have been for, oh, six or seven hours now.”
He held up his hand, examining the way the light filtered through it. “Look at that.”
“What happened to you?” I asked.
“Well, you were right about my not moving boxes by myself. I knew there was something wrong the moment I picked it up. I had all of the classic signs—shooting pains in the left arm, crushing sensation in the chest, shortness of breath. I just keeled over.”
“I’m so sorry. I should have been here.”
“Don’t,” he said. “Don’t blame yourself. I was an old man, and I lived a good, long life. And you made me very happy during my last months. You’ve become very dear to me, Jane. I hope you know that. I was never meant to have children. But I like to think that if I had a daughter, or a granddaughter, she would be like you. Good Lord, is that really what my hair looks like?”
“Focus, please, Mr. Wainwright. Why are you still here? Do you have unfinished business or something?” I asked.
“No, no, I’m just not ready to cross over. There’s too much happening in the world right now. And my friendship with you, it’s so exciting. I want to see what happens next.”
“But don’t you want to see what’s, you know, on the other side?”
“I’m not afraid of crossing over,” he said. “I’m just not ready to go. As soon as I am, I will. As a wise man once said, ‘To the highly organized mind, death is just another adventure.’ “
“That’s from Harry Potter,” I said. “Dumbledore said it in the first book.”
“Trust you to know.” He smiled. “Everything’s going to be fine, Jane. Don’t you worry.”
“But what’s going to happen?”
“Who knows?” He shrugged, grinning wildly. “That’s the best part.”
“But what about—”
“Jane, I think you’d better call nine-one-one, dear, to pick up my body,” he suggested.
I nodded. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Not for a while yet,” he promised.
I thought about calling Dick, but I knew the mix of Dick and the authorities—human or otherwise—was not a good thing. Even though Mr. Wainwright’s death was natural, the 911 dispatcher apparently went to church with my mama and notified the responding paramedics that I was a vampire. And I guess they asked for a police escort. Also, when vampires cry, the tiniest bit of blood streaks through in their tears, so when the police arrived, my face was covered in red stains. Needless to say, questioning took a while.
“How long have you worked here, Miss Jameson?” Sergeant Rusty Bardwell asked as he scribbled in his little notebook. A tall, dark-haired fellow with a no nonsense set to his jaw, Rusty did not trust me. In fact, he kept a free hand on his gun for most of his visit. Pointing out that using it on me would be useless didn’t seem wise.
“Rusty, we’ve known each other since third grade. You threw up on me on the field trip to Mammoth Cave. Just call me Jane,” I said irritably as I sniffled into a tissue.
Rusty’s level gaze didn’t waver. “How long have you worked here, Miss Jameson?”
“About six months,” I said, my voice flat and annoyed.
“And how long have you known the deceased?”
“About six months,” I said.
Mr. Wainwright watched as the paramedics loaded his mortal coil into a body bag, then waved cheerfully as he was packed into the ambulance. I shook my head at him.
