The Bertie Mansion

IX

In his room, he prepared for the night by dressing in his favorite camouflage pyjamas. He got under the covers and pulled out the next of his grandfather's journals. There were too many to pull an all-nighter for, but he could get a damn good head start. He had run through a day on a couple hours of sleep many times before with no problem, something he had Caleb had in common.

He couldn't concentrate. He tried to focus on the page until his eyes were crossed for many minutes. Caleb had been brought up in conversation for the first time in forever. Unrest and guilt settled in his stomach. Their fight had been his fault. He had been too pushy, too violent for Caleb's liking. Harsh words had been exchanged, none that meant anything. Or, Jeremy hadn't meant any of it.

That had happened soon after Jeremy the First died, right before they moved into the Bertie Mansion. There hadn't been time to make up and him and Caleb hadn't spoken since. Perhaps Caleb never wanted to talk to him again. The ache in his heart when he thought that brought a new wave of shame. Caleb had been his best friend, the friend who understood him and liked him when no one else did.

Jeremy did not shed a tear. His eyes shouted at him to let them cry, but he wouldn't give up yet. He was late to making it right, but he wouldn't give up yet. He'd beg if he had to.

He quietly ran down the stairs before he could chicken out－which was a figure of speech for suspense, obviously Jeremy never chickened out of anything. He halted in the kitchen when he saw Rob at the table.

It was beneath a large window that gave an amazing view of the lawn and the rain streaking down the glass. The ghost was sitting in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, sewing on a shirt Jeremy recognized as his mother's. It had been ripped several weeks ago during an intense cleaning session.

If he hadn't known better, he would have said Rob was the picture of how to be ladylike, calmly stitching the tear. His movements were precise and gentle, his face looking at peace with the world. It was a giant contrast from the tough military man Jeremy had imagined Rob to be during his life and he was taken aback by it.

"Aren't you uncomfortable?" he asked, pointing to the crossed legs.

Rob glanced at him for a second and then returned to his work. "No. I don't feel pain, or anything. Force of habit, I suppose."

"Ah. Well, thanks for mending the shirt. She liked that one."

"I'm going to give it to her tomorrow to apologize for scaring her like that," said Rob.

Jeremy grinned. "That's nice. She'll love you now."

"I hope so," the ghost said. He paused and then put his sewing to the side. "I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" Jeremy asked. "Any juicy secrets?"

Rob chuckled and rubbed the material of Jade's blouse between his fingers. "Not like that. It's just a feeling. It's hard to tell time when you've lost count of the days, but for a few months now I've felt something different in the air, something I feel like I should know what it is. It's gotten a lot worse the past few days, which is why I risked approaching you. I didn't want to worry anyone if I was wrong. Just be careful."

"Oh. I'll keep that in mind." Jeremy wasn't sure what else to say. The entire day was a lot to take in. "Do you mind if I make a phone call?"

"No, I'll leave," the ghost offered. He did just that and soon Jeremy was alone with his heart on his sleeve, the rain, and clean dishes set out to dry.

He struggled to input the phone number he knew by heart, still unused to the device. It was a rotary phone, an ancient invention that had to suffice because the cell service around here was atrocious. He had only bothered to make calls on it once or twice and had not quite gotten the hang of it, though the concept seemed simple enough. His impatience with not being able to just press the numbers added to the frustration.

A dial tone rang in his ear and he waited, tapping his foot on the ground to dispel his excess energy.

"Hello?" a tired and weary male said after the seventh ring. The phone always distorted voices, which was cool until it made this whole, silly idea too surreal. "Who is it?"

"It's me," he said, smiling at Caleb's voice. "Jeremy."

"Jeremy? Is it really you? I thought you forgot me once you got new country buddies," his old friend said, teasing but with a hint of sadness.

"Yes, it's really me. And I could never forget you for long. I was just super busy." Jeremy twisted the phone cord in his hand and leaned on the wall. How should he apologize? He didn't know, and that was more scary than Rob.

Caleb chuckled without humor. "I'd hope so. Takes a lot of work to be a good older brother, dumping all your chores on Will."

"I am always a good older brother to Will," Jeremy said with a scowl, though he attempted to portray light-heartedness. "The best and coolest older brother in the world and I do my part."

"Sure."

"Hey, man, it's true. There's no beating me," he bragged, thinking of how he conquered the silly rabbits.

"Is there a reason you needed to do this after midnight?" Caleb said in clear complaint.

Jeremy grimaced. All wasn't forgiven. "Sorry. Not a night owl anymore?"

"I am. I just didn't expect this. Not now, in the middle of the night after months of silence. Is everything okay?" His friend's tone was one of concern despite the cold front he tried to have with his words.

I miss you, Jeremy thought. He quickly denied it more time in his head. Real men weren't hopeless saps.

"You'd like it up here," he said instead. "There's this mega attic full of that old junk you're crazy for. I might even be able to spare my best friend some for keeps."

"Old junk? You mean priceless objects from the Great War that historians would die for a chance to examine?" Caleb inquired, voice straining to stay neutral. Jeremy knew him well, though, and realized the man on the other end of the phone was trying to suppress his excitement.

He smiled and pretended to be nonchalant. "If only I knew someone like that, someone who wouldn't mind the spare room right next to mine, dusted out and furnished with Isabellian pieces. Someone only a day's ride away by train, so I won't wait in too much suspense for their arrival."

"You know I would if I could, Jer, but I don't have the money for the tickets right now. I barely survive as it is. I can't afford to take time off at work," Caleb apologized.

"What if," Jeremy proposed, "I got you your ticket for free? My grandfather's estate comes with free train tickets. I could go to the library tomorrow at the butt-crack of dawn, email you them to print out for the first train. You'll be here by evening."

"No, you don't have to do that. Besides, I need my job. I don't think I'll be able to keep it if I leave."

"Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. We'll find you a new job here, I'll recommend you personally," Jeremy suggested. They could share the babysitting opportunity. "Please?"

"What about your other friends, out in the country with you? Will they mind?" Caleb sounded like he was on the verge of agreeing.

"No, they won't mind at all," Jeremy assured him. "I promise."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, then," Caleb said with a resigned sigh.

"Yeah, see you then," Jeremy confirmed. He hung up the phone, grinning to himself and went to bed with a bounce in his step, excited for the new day.