Spirit of Gettysburg: Soulmates Across Time

Chapter 8

Sarcasm screamed inside her but she bottled it up and waited for him to finish speaking.

Smirking, he waved his ballpoint pen at her. "The ghost is violent. He's mean, active and loud, a sore loser who wants revenge for being on the wrong side of history. Enough said on this complicated subject."

He thought she was a moron. Should she grab his pen and throw it at him? No, cool logic and hard facts were the best response to male arrogance and supposed intellectual superiority. He was getting some pushback.

"Your facts are scanty, sir. What's his name? Is he an officer or enlisted? What's his rank, branch of service, state and town? Eleven states seceded and twenty-three states remained loyal to the Union."

His mouth opened in a cave of surprise.

She beamed a broad smile at him. All her life people underestimated her intelligence and tried to make her feel stupid. She was touchy about it. They mistook her gentle, quiet nature for stupidity. She spoke her mind lately, Her tolerance for put-downs was gone.

He started to speak but stopped. He was clueless.

She looked at him in surprise. "Your lack of concrete facts astonishes me. It doesn't matter. I know you're trying to help me. I'm moving in, regardless of his shenanigans. Hmm, perhaps he's lonely, misunderstood, needs therapy, the love of a good wife or a swift kick in the butt," she added sotto voice. She swallowed more retorts. She knew what her ghost needed. Her!

"I've dealt with unruly ghosts before, sir, in my career as a professional psychic. I'm familiar with the spiritual realm. I can and will deal with Mr. Spooky in my own way, no matter what he pulls. End of story. Like the nickname? Catchy isn't it?"

Her babble was an inane croak. Realization hit her like a sledgehammer. The lawyer wasn't the only one who didn't know his name. The ghost would tell her when they met at Cavalry Manor. It was rather funny. All those years of ghostly visits and he never revealed it, only that they were married. She accepted this because his presence comforted her so much.

She was nervous despite her outward bravado and her throat was progressively becoming drier than the Mojave Desert.

She spied a candy dish on his desk. Peppermints, a favorite of hers! Should she ask for one? Oh, what the heck! She reached for the candy dish. "May I? I'm parched. I love peppermints."

"Help yourself." His voice sounded like he was spitting rusty nails.

"Thanks," she popped one into her mouth and savored it.

His stony eyes observed her suck the peppermint. Her obstinacy clearly shocked him. Willful, opinionated women apparently exasperated him. His mouth twisted like he bit into a sour apple. Perhaps he needed a peppermint. She hid an involuntary grin with her hand.

He straightened his lips and stared over her shoulder. "The choice is yours. I'm preparing you for potential difficulties. My motto is present the facts." He smiled, if the parsimonious movement of his mouth could be called a smile. "Forewarned is forearmed, as it were."

His frosty voice alarmed her. They were going around in circles. What next? She swallowed the peppermint.

"You refuse to heed my warning. I have done my duty by you. The following consequences of your obstinate actions belong to you and only you. As I said, it puzzles me as to why my client left the house to you since he knew it was haunted."

He stood and placed the edge of his palms on his desk precisely twelve inches apart. "Are there any questions concerning your inheritance, Ms. McAlister?"

"No. Sorry for our misunderstanding and for my perceived rudeness."

He squinted. "We are finished. Here are two front door keys, an heir and a spare, as it were." He shoved a manila envelope towards her.

"Thanks." She tucked it into her purse and made her voice vivacious. "Time to meet Mr. Spooky."

He looked annoyed.

Oh dear, once more her humor irritated him. Her stomach felt like the Titanic hitting the ocean floor. Her sinking feeling emerged whenever her playful sense of humor rose to the surface, her jokes fell flat and people misjudged her.

Her quirkiness frequently landed her in trouble. She was essentially a shy, serious person except for her sense of humor. Laughter helped her cope with life's idiots. She naturally deflated pomposity, a trait peculiar to self-important, male authority figures wielding power over those they perceived as powerless, usually women.

Her conscience pricked her. She owed him an explanation for her offhand attitude about spirits. She wouldn't tell him about her personal dealings with her ghost, though. That was a secret she shared with her dead husband. She crossed and un-crossed her ankles. "I'll be fine, sir. God protects me. HE always has. I'll manage, because, well, because failure isn't an option for me. I make lemonade out of lemons."

He was stone-faced.

Author's Note:  Next Chapters Uploaded Sunday!