A Book of Dust and Breath

Chapter 19.2

An hour later, bellies stuffed full of Delbert's wonderful cooking, they emerged back into the heaven-kissed warmth of the day. They both agreed a little walk would be perfect, so they left the Harley at the curb and walked the block and a half to the little school building.

The lock turned with a screeching protest of rusted metal.

Lily pulled her phone from her pocket and started a list.

"Hope that thing has lots of memory. Looks like the list might get long," Max teased.

She couldn't argue. The place needed some love. Several of the old single-pane windows were spiderwebbed with cracks. Brown Rorschach blots, drawn by leaking rainwater and snowmelt dotted the ceiling. The carpet had been ripped away, leaving behind tattered fragments of black padding. The scent of mildew permeated the air.

In the center of the room, she took a deep breath and launched into a graceful dance of deliberate motion. Warm peace flowed through her veins, melting the ice of fear, and worry, and doubt that had clogged her system.

She opened her eyes to see Max leaning against the doorframe watching her with sparkling eyes. "You look happy," he said.

"I am happy," she answered. "This place is perfect. It's not going to take nearly as much work as you think. You'll see."

He walked across the room, his footsteps echoing in the empty space, and slid his arms around her waist, locking his fingers together behind her back. "Tell me what you love about this place," he said.

She chewed on her lip. "It's mine, Max. I dreamed of it. I earned it. I did it."

"You did, didn't you?" He brushed his lips across her nose. "If you love it, I love it."

"There's an extra bonus."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"No ghosts here, hissing in the radiators. No creepy shadows. No yellow eyes peeking out from the closets."

A muscle in his jaw jumped. His Adam's apple bobbed.

"I'm sorry," she backpedaled. "I don't mean to talk bad about the house. I love it. I think it's beautiful. I'm just not used to old places, I guess. I've got a case of the heebie-jeebies."

"Did you see yellow eyes?" His eyes searched hers.

"Max," she tucked her head against his chest. "Didn't anyone ever tell you there's no such thing as monsters in the closet? Your wife just has an overactive imagination."

He didn't answer her and he held her more tightly than was comfortable, but she made no protest.

Finally, he said, "I'll double check that those restless spirits I persuaded to leave didn't come back. They need to understand it's our place now and I won't have them spooking my wife."

His voice sounded light and teasing so she made an attempt to match it.

"That would be great. Or, at least they could stick to rattling chains in the attic like a proper ghost would."

"I'll mention it to them," he promised.

They got to work making lists and measuring dimensions, but for the rest of the day, she couldn't shake the thought that Max was more worried about her than he was letting on. She wondered when Daniel would show up again. Maybe she could ply him with alcohol and get some real answers.

I do a Scarlet O'Hara, she told herself. I won't worry about it today. I'll think about it tomorrow, when it's not so stressful.

It worked, too. By the time they'd placed orders for flooring and new ceiling tiles, Max's strange reaction to her worry was buried in the depths of her mind and she was content to spend the evening making love and reading in bed.