Fourteen Days(18)

“Very funny.”

“So your fancy-woman hasn’t come back for revenge then?”

Fake-smiling, he left the kitchen. “Why, jealous or something?”

“Yeah, right—in your dreams,” she retorted, chuckling as she pulled out a large bowl of stew from the fridge.

Richard entered the living room and sat back on the couch, relieved that his wife was home. All of a sudden the house wasn’t such a cold and frightening place.

But what had changed? Why did his house feel so different? And why did he need his wife home to feel safe? Was it the smoke detector going off for a third time? No. It was faulty. It must have been. Maybe it was the TV coming on like that—after all, it even gave Nicky a scare. Maybe his lack of sleep? And he hadn’t so much as heard, let alone seen, the woman in the white dress again. His dreams didn’t count.

But he was safe again. Safe from his fears. Safe from his wandering mind, his vast imagination. Safe from irrational thoughts… for now at least.



Richard came down from the bedroom to see who the female voice belonged to. Opening the living room door, he saw his wife sitting on the couch next to one of her friends, Karen Leigh. She was a short, thin massage therapist, with long brown hair down past her shoulders. She seemed at ease, as if without a care in the world as she sat smiling, sipping a cup of tea.

Nicky’s face lit up when she clapped eyes on him. “There he is, Karen.”

“All right, Karen. How’s things?” he asked, regretting coming down.

“Good, thanks,” she replied in a soothing tone.

“I was just telling Karen about your little ghost problem.”

Frowning, he shook his head. “Babe, why did you have to go and tell the world? It’s embarrassing. And for the last time: we don’t have a ghost problem.”

“I’m sorry, it just came up. Karen’s into ghosts and witchcraft and all that stuff, too.”

Karen turned to her. “Witchcraft? You make me sound like a devil-worshiper or something.”

“You know what I mean.”

“If you mean the spirit world, then yes, I am into it.” She redirected the conversation to Richard. “So tell me, what’s been happening?”

“Look,” he said, watching Nicky hold back her laughter. “I’m not going to say anything in front of you. You’ll make fun of me again.”

Nicky put her hands up as if to surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m leaving. I’ve got some washing to do. So I’ll leave you two ghostbusters alone.” She stood to leave. “Have fun!”

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he sat on the single sofa chair. “Sorry about her. She just loves teasing me.”

“Don’t worry about Nicky. I know how closed her mind is. She gives me a hard time too.” She took a sip of tea. “So, Nicky’s been telling me that you think you saw a ghost.”

“Don’t listen to her, Karen. I didn’t say that I saw a ghost. She’s just making fun. I said that I think I saw someone. A woman. In the kitchen.”

“What did she look like?”

“Does it matter? She’s not even real. I don’t believe in ghosts.”

Karen smiled. “Well, they believe in you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m saying that they do exist. They’re all around us. But that’s not to say that every strange thing we see is something paranormal. But sometimes…”

“Look, there are a million reasons to explain why I saw her.”

“Such as?”

He shrugged. “Like a trick of the eyes. Or the glare from the sunlight. Or stress from work. It could be anything.”

“Describe her, Rich. Her clothes. Her hair. How old did she look?”

“She looked about thirty-odd, and she had long, brown hair, all wet and greasy as if she was dripping in sweat.”

“And what was she wearing?”

“She had a white dress on. Like a summer dress. Like the ones Nic wears sometimes. But it was dirty, covered in stains.”

Karen fell silent for a moment as she processed the information. “That doesn’t sound like a trick of the eyes to me.”

“Why not?”

“Because you described her so well.”

“So? She still could be a hallucination. It doesn’t mean there’s a ghost in my kitchen.”