Where One Goes(46)

“Yes. Sure. I have to see what days I’ll be off, but yes. I would like that very much.”

“And you’ll play for us again,” Mr. Mercer says, not really asking.

“If you’d like me to,” Charlotte laughs. They watch her as she climbs in her truck and pulls out of their driveway.

“They’re very lonely. People like them should be covered in grandchildren,” Charlotte notes as she turns down Emerson Ave.

I shrug and say, “I think you’re right.”

“Are employees allowed to sit at the bar and drink, or no?”

“Yeah. If it’s your day off you can go in and drink,” I reply.

“Good, because I think I’d like to have one or two,” she answers. She looks pensive for a moment before she puckers her lips in a thoughtful way and says, “Hmm.”

“Everything all right?” I ask.

She smiles faintly. “Just been one of those days where I’ve been reminiscing.”

“Was Maggie there the entire time?”

“Yes, but she didn’t say a word to me until we left.”

“I guess that was helpful,” I chuckle. “What did she say?”

Charlotte frowns and answers, “She told me not to forget about her.” We ride for a few minutes in silence when Charlotte asks, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” I reply.

Licking her lips, she inhales deeply and releases. “Are you scared?” Her question surprises me. “Of crossing over,” she clarifies.

Now it’s my turn to inhale deeply and release slowly. I can’t deny I’m concerned, but I wouldn’t say scared. “Not scared so much, maybe just sad.”

“Sad?”

“It’s hard to leave the people you love. My family and friends. And I know we haven’t known each other long, Charlotte, but it’ll be really hard to leave you, too.”


Her lip trembles and I close my eyes wishing to God I could touch her. “I’m going to miss you, Ike,” she whispers.

I smile sadly and face forward. I don’t like seeing her cry. It f*cking shreds me. “And when I go, remembering that will make me smile,” I tell her, and she wipes a tear from her cheek.

“If you were alive, Ike McDermott . . .”

“You’d strip me naked and ravish my body?” I tease, and she laughs even though she’s still wiping at her face.

“You know, I think I would.” I’m getting excited, and I can’t help but join her in this game of what-if. How could I not?

“If I were alive, I’d ask you out on a date. What would you say?” This is a terrible road for us to go down, but we’re finally admitting there’s an attraction between us, and even though nothing could ever happen for obvious reasons, I want to know. I need to know, as sick as it is. My blood is pumping and I flatten my palms to my thighs as I await her answer.

“Depends,” she answers. “Tell me how you’d ask.”

I scratch the back of my neck. “I think I’d do date by ambush. That way you couldn’t really say no. I’d just show up at your job and bring flowers and say, ‘Would you join me for dinner?’”

Grinning, she asks, “And we’d have dinner right there where I work?”

“Why not?” I scoff. “It’s the best restaurant in town, is it not?”

“Sure it is. So you’d put me on the spot, eh?” she chuckles.

“Oh, yeah,” I agree. “So, what would you do?”

“I would join you for dinner.” She smiles sadly.

“I’d tell you about my time in the army and my family.”

“I’d hide from you that I see dead people,” she adds.

“Would you?” I ask, surprised. Hearing that makes me sad. There is absolutely nothing about her I wouldn’t want to know. Does she think if I were alive I wouldn’t believe her?

“At first, until I knew you were in love with me and wouldn’t freak out.” Her gray eyes dart to mine quickly before returning to the road.

“That wouldn’t have taken long,” I tell her. The first time I heard her laugh, I was done. If I were alive, I’d be making a fool of myself to make her mine. Her gaze lowers for a moment and she breathes deeply. We should stop, I know we should, but I can’t. Not yet. “I’d take you home and kiss you good night.”

“I’d let you,” she says, sadly.

“After we’d been dating a while, I’d take you back to that spot by the river I took you to the other day, and to show my love for you, I’d carve our initials in that big tree. I & C inside a big heart.” I can see it all; her gray eyes bright with love as she watches me mark the tree, the way she smiles at me when I finish. God, I wish I could give that to her.

“And then you’d get laid,” she jokes and chuckles through her tears.

“Right there by the water?” I ask and laugh. “Aren’t you the exhibitionist,” I tease.

“Why not? I’d be caught up in the awe of your romantic gesture. I wouldn’t have cared if anyone saw. We’d be all that mattered.”

A long moment of silence plays out as we both bask in the intensity of her last words. We’d be all that mattered. I’m choking on my emotion: it’s knotted in my throat. A living man or woman could relate to wanting something you can’t have, but this is different. I literally can never have her. It’s soul crushing. I need to say something—anything—but Charlotte saves the day and says, “You would’ve brought a picnic and there’d be a blanket.”