Chapter 2

Megan was on the front porch when we pulled into the drive.  She braved the pelting rain to rush to the car and give us both a heartfelt hug; both as a welcome home and for sympathy over our loss.  When she tried to help with our luggage, Max not only refused her help, but he insisted that she and I both go into the house and he’d follow with the luggage.  Sensing that he needed some time alone, I didn’t argue.

“You should have come through the house to greet us,” I said as I pulled on the hem of Megan’s rain-soaked shirt.  “You should have known Max would pull right into the garage.  Now, you’re soaking wet.”

She stopped before stepping into the breezeway that connected the garage to the house and rung the hem of her shirt out as best as she could.

“I wasn’t thinking,” she said with a shrug.  “To tell you the truth, the rain felt marvelous.  I’d go back out if I thought Max would let me.”

“Max doesn’t own you,” I said with a

confused snort.

“He can be forceful at times,” she said.

I stopped and looked at her with pure curiosity.  “What happened to Megan while I was gone?  Who are you?  What did you do with her?”

“I’m just not up to any confrontations these days,” she said with her head hung low.

“Oh, for goodness sakes,” I said as I grabbed her by the hand and marched back to the car.  My tone was firm and left no room for arguments when I addressed Max.  “Megan and I are going to play in the rain for a bit.  We’ll be in shortly.”

He gave us an absent-minded look as he pulled the luggage from the trunk.  “Have fun, kids.”

I gave a curt nod and, with a childish smirk, I yanked my friend out into the torrential downpour.  I had to pull my shirt up over my mouth and nose more than once to be able to breathe properly as we laughed and twirled while our bodies became practically waterlogged.  After the tense confines of the plane and car ride home, our behavior was liberating.

Max was in our room by the time I’d finished frolicking in the rain with my best friend.   We’d agreed to take a quick hot shower and meet up in the kitchen for some hot chocolate.   Megan had some ideas about what caused the fire that took Max’s house and she was eager to share them with him.  To my surprise, Max was already in bed and showed no interest in joining us in the kitchen.   He suggested that I go down without him, claiming that he was exhausted from the trip and just wanted to go to sleep.  Since a night hadn’t passed since I couldn’t remember when that Max had gone to sleep before making love to me, I stripped off my clothes and started to climb onto the bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked with surprise.

I bent maneuvered so that my breast grazed his face as I climbed over his bulk to get onto the bed.  “I’m getting into bed so that you can have your sex to go to sleep by, baby.”

He shocked by saying, “Not tonight, my love.  I just want to sleep.  You take your shower and go back down with Megan.  I’m sure that you two missed each other.  Tell Megan I’ll catch up with her tomorrow, okay?”

I was speechless with surprise and worry over his declining my offer of my body as I climbed back over my notoriously horny husband and stood by the bed.  I watched the steady rhythm of his chest as it raised and lowered for a few seconds before heading into the bathroom for a quick shower.   I could hear his soft snores when I finished and went to my dresser to pull out a pair of sweat shorts and a tee shirt.

I kissed him lightly on the forehead before heading downstairs for my cup of hot chocolate.

Megan was already at the stove heating up the milk when I entered the kitchen.  I pulled two mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter beside her.

“Is Max okay?” she asked.

“I’m sure that he will be,” I sighed.  “He went to bed right away.  He was snoring when I came down.”

“Stress and shock will do that to a person,” she mused.

“It’s a horrible thing.  I have no idea what was in there that was lost to him, but I can only imagine.”

“I don’t think that you can,” she said.

“I don’t understand,” I said with knitted brow.

“It’s probably best for him to tell you,” she hedged.

“Oh, no.  You can’t do that.  Don’t you dare tease me with partial information,” I grumbled as she poured the heated chocolate milk into our mugs and slid one to me.  “Tell me, now.”

“I could be wrong.  I mean, it’s been years since we’ve talked about it.  But, the last I knew, my sister’s ashes were in that house.  He not only lost his worldly possessions to the fire.  He lost the ashes of his first true love.”

“I don’t know how to feel or what to say,” I stammered as I sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the mug in front of me.  “He was just a young boy when she killed herself.  How did he come by her ashes?”

“He didn’t have all of the ashes.  Just some.  He asked my parents and, knowing his pain, they gave him some.  The last I knew, he kept them in a jar in his bedroom,” she said.

“That’s not creepy,” I shuddered.

 “We’re talking about my sister,” she said with a warning tone.

“It doesn’t matter whose ashes they were.  I think it’s creepy is all that I’m saying.  Nothing against your sister,” I said, apologetically.

She looked at me long and hard and then smiled.  “You’re right.  It is creepy.  For all I know, he got rid of them.”

“Did your parents keep theirs?” I asked.

“We had a ceremony in the woods and spread them.  It’s our way,” she explained.

“That’s not creepy.  That’s beautiful.  It’s a shame Max didn’t do something like that.”

“He may have,” she said.   “It’s been quite a few years,” she offered.

“What else would make him behave in such a way as he has over this fire?” I asked with sincerity.  “You know him better than I do in many ways.  What loss could crush him like this, other than Melissa’s ashes?”

She folded her arms on the table and lowered her head.  “I can’t think of any.  If he was that materialistic, I never realized it.”

“Were you ever in his home?” I asked.

She nodded.  “Many times.”

“And?” I asked with eagerness and raised brow.

She got a faraway look in her eyes.  “It was a normal house.  Not too shabby, but not the Taj Mahal either.  I’d call it an average Wolf Junction home that leaned toward masculine with its décor.”

“So, it’s the loss of the ashes, then,” I said with a soft, sad voice.

“Don’t let it upset you, my friend.  He loves you.”

“Not enough to let her go, though,” I moped.  “What upsets me the most is that you’ve told me all of this in confidence so I can’t even approach him about it.  The man has a mountain of secrets that he’s keeping from me.  How can we have a successful marriage with that standing between us?”

Silence permeated the room.   I could see that the wheels of thought were working inside of her head, so I stayed quiet and waited for her to speak.

“I’ll tell you what,” she finally said.  “Give him a week to grieve and, then, if he still hasn’t talked to you about all of this, you’re free to bring it up.”

A wave of relief swept over me as I thanked her.  We changed the subject to lighter topics.   I showed her pictures on my cell phone of our wedding, some of the sights in Las Vegas, and, then, Puerto Rico.

“He looks genuinely happy,” she said as she cradled my phone in her hand.  “He looks like a man in love.”

“We were having the time of our lives right up until Larry called to tell him,” I moaned.  “I suggested that we come home after five days in Las Vegas.  It was him who wanted to stick to the plan of a two-month honeymoon.  I can’t help wondering if the house would still be standing if we’d come home like I wanted to do.”

“Should have, would have, could have,” she mumbled.  “Why on earth would you want to come back here when you had seven weeks of honeymoon left?”

I looked at her with surprise.  “You know, I couldn’t say.  It was just something that popped into my head on day number five.  I had no special reason.”

“Unless it was the spirits calling you,” she offered.

“Calling me?” I asked with confusion.

“They know no boundaries.”

I visibly shuddered.  “I’d forgotten about that afternoon.  I hope that thing is gone from here.”

“I did a few more clearings while you were gone,” she said with earnest.  “I’m going to admit that I was shocked and I am still shocked by the number of spirits and ghosts in this place.  Believe it or not, I still have some to chase out.”

“I don’t get it.  You said spirits and ghosts.  Isn’t a spirit a ghost?”

She shook her head.  “A spirit is free flowing and intelligent.  It knows no boundaries and can come and go at will.  A ghost is basically trapped energy.  Ghost hunters often refer to them as residual energy.  Ghosts often don’t realize that they died.  If they do, they aren’t able to understand where to go and what to do, so they cling to the familiar.”

“Can I ask you something without you getting upset with me?” I stammered, hesitantly.

She cocked her head with curiosity and nodded.

“Do you think that Melissa’s ghost or spirit was hanging around the ashes that Max kept?”

Megan’s face went white.  Her eyes not only widened, but they filled with tears.  “It’s something that I never even gave thought to, but it’s highly possible.  Unless Max had a releasing ceremony, then she could easily be hanging around.  She committed suicide, after all.”  She slapped her forehead so hard that I jumped with sympathy pain.  “What’s wrong with me?  Why didn’t I think of that and perform a ceremony to release her from those ashes like we did ours?  That’s probably why it took so long for Max to fall in love again or even look at a woman.  She’s probably had some kind of hold on him.”

“You were young when that happened.  And traumatized,” I said in a soothing tone.  “Don’t beat yourself up.”  I reached over and placed my hand over hers.  “We don’t know that she didn’t move on.  Let’s wait to find out.  If she didn’t, can’t one be done now?”