Aunt Christine had to go back to work and couldn’t hold my hand anymore. Not that I needed hand holding. But it was still nice to have someone there in the empty house.
She lived in St. Louis, all the way up in Missouri. It was nice, but I liked my little town of Hugo, Oklahoma. The summers were blistering, but the winters were mild. I didn’t know what I would do if I had to deal with cold weather six months out of the year. Especially not at a new job that required me to walk around outside in the middle of the night.
Thankfully, I only needed a hoodie to keep off the chill tonight. November wasn’t quite as warm as October, but it was still balmy enough to keep me from freezing my nipples off.
Shoving my feet into my tennis shoes, I grabbed my backpack and the keys to Dad’s convertible, and headed for the door. I had to admit, I was a bit nervous. Not because it was a new job, but because it was in a cemetery.
Hurrying out the back door, I walked quickly to the car in the evening dusk. I didn’t believe in ghosts, goblins, and the like, but nothing good happened after dark. Not unless it’s in a bedroom with the creaking springs of a mattress and groans of pleasure.
I sighed as I threw my backpack into the back seat and sat down in front of the steering wheel. I shut the door and cranked the engine. It purred to life like a lounging kitten. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the leather interior, letting the sound soothe my aching heart.
Some hours were good. Others, not so much. This was one of the hours where I wished my dad was still here. I wanted to hear him tell me I’d do a good job. For him to make some crack about keeping my mouth closed in a cemetery.
“Evil spirits will jump inside your body if you mouth off too much near their graves.”
Stupid old wives’ tale. Some things he did were just silly that way. Even more so was the one where you had to lift your feet when you drove through a yellow light. He still did it though, and I laughed at him.
Fuck.
I rubbed the back of my hand against my wet eyes and sucked in a harsh breath. It came out shaky. My grasp tightened on the steering wheel and then I decided I was done.
Loosening my grip on the wheel, I shifted gears and pulled out of the driveway. I passed the pale blue siding of our house as I drove, followed by the wraparound porch where I had my first kiss, right before my dad flicked on the porch light and embarrassed the shit out of me and my boyfriend.
Derek Miller.
In sixth grade, boyfriends weren’t really boyfriends. We said they were, but when you couldn’t do anything without your parents driving you it was kind of hard to date. I thought I’d loved him. I knew at the age of thirteen everyone thought they were in love. When he moved away a few months later, it had torn me apart.
But nothing like now.
I supposed blood was stronger than puppy love.
The drive to the cemetery wasn’t eventful. Boring, really. I didn’t know why it should have been different. It wasn’t like I was going to some great destiny. It was just a part-time job.
With great benefits.
I couldn’t forget that. I smiled to myself as I pulled up to the cemetery gates. They were open already, even after nightfall. Edgar must have been waiting for me.
I climbed out of the car and grabbed my backpack, pulling the strap over one shoulder. As I walked down the dirt path, I didn’t hear a chuckle this time. Only the crickets chirping and the wind blowing through the fallen leaves. The headstones stood silent in their judgment as I moved past them. I was tempted to stop at my dad’s grave, but I held back. I didn’t trust myself not to break down again. Not with Edgar waiting for me.
The little shack loomed ahead, growing closer with every step I took. I didn’t know it then, but this first night would be just the beginning. Nothing would ever be the same after I stepped through that door.
“Ah, Braxton!” Edgar glanced up from the papers on the desk and smiled at me, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “Right on time, I like that. Not many people are punctual nowadays.”
I gave him a weak smile in return, shifting my backpack higher on my shoulder. “My dad always said if you’re going to be late for anything, make it your death. It’s the only time it’s acceptable…” My words trailed off as my mind took a dark turn.
Edgar’s eyes softened as he pushed away from the desk. “Well, I sure hope I’m late for mine.”
I shoved back the darkness and swallowed thickly, nodding. “Me too.”
“Alright then. Let’s get you settled.” Edgar scratched the back of his head and searched around, seeming to forget what he was doing for a second. “Ah!” He lifted a finger and opened a drawer in the desk. Pulling out a set of keys, he handed them over to me. “These are to the gate and the office. Be sure to lock both before you leave in the morning. Friday and Saturday nights are the busiest. You’re more likely to have trespassers and partiers. Sundays are quieter. You shouldn’t have to worry about anyone showing up then. Most of the kids have class or work the next day.”
I inclined my head in understanding. “Okay. Anything else?”
Edgar thought for a moment and then a secretive smile slid up his wrinkled face. “If you see any ghosts, just pretend they aren’t there. They’ll go away.”
“Ghosts?” I startled, my brows rising. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
Edgar chuckled. “Then you have nothing to worry about. I left my number on the desk. If you have any questions or find yourself unable to handle the trespassers, give me a call. After you call the police of course. The sirens always scare them off if we don’t.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
I filed the information away for later and rolled the keys over in my hand. “I understand. Have a good night.”
“You as well.” Edgar patted me on the shoulder as he ambled out of the door. I hadn’t seen another car in the parking lot, so I had no idea how Edgar would be getting home, but then again it wasn’t my concern. He was an adult and he could take care of himself.
With the place to myself, I sighed and sat my backpack down on the couch in front of the television. Snapping my fingers and then patting my hands on the sides of my thighs, I glanced around the room. It hadn’t changed much. There was still a bathroom to the right side and the desk to the left of the door. The couch was rattier than I’d noticed before, an ugly dull blue, and there was a mini fridge and a microwave next to the desk. I guess I didn’t have to worry about being hungry at night. I’d packed my lunch today, but now I knew I could bring other kinds of food in the future.
Figuring I should walk the grounds before I got started on my makeup work for class, I grabbed the flashlight off the desk. Making sure my cell was in my hoodie pouch, I shoved the keys into the front pocket of my jeans.
The sun had set, and the stars and moon were out now. I hardly needed the flashlight to see. The path split a few yards from the shack. Or office, as Edgar had called it. The left led to my dad’s grave. I went right.
I’d had my breakdown for the day. I couldn’t handle another one tonight.
The path wound through the graves. I took small, slow steps, glancing over the names on the headstones. Erica Norman. Victor Liken. Benjamin Aiks. Peyton Rider.
I stopped.
Staring down at the gravestone, I felt rage billowing in my belly. Before I knew what I was doing, I kicked the stone, wincing as pain radiated through my foot, but I pushed it back. I kicked it again and again, an angry cry ripping from my throat as I beat at my invisible enemy. I knew the stone wasn’t him. It wasn’t the rich brat who had killed my dad, but it felt damn good to do so.
I collapsed on the ground in front of the grave, my head hanging and tears streaming down my face. I sagged to the ground, dropping the flashlight at my side and letting my fingers dig into the grass beneath me.
After a moment or two, I lifted my head. My eyes scanned the gravestone. Payton Rider. Beloved friend, son, and father. The last one had my brows raising. The dates on his grave put him at twenty-two. Not much older than me. There was a little boy or girl out there who had lost their dad as well.
It should have quelled my anger, but it only made it worse. Not only had he stolen my dad from me, but he took himself from his own child. My teeth ground together as my fingers curled around the flashlight. I stood and spit on the grave before turning from it.
Before I could walk away in a childish huff, I felt it. Eyes on my back.
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” a British, distinctively male voice asked in the dark.
When I spun around, I swung my flashlight up, searching. “Who’s there?”
At first, I didn’t see him. Then, my flashlight reflected off of something. Pale and almost transparent. A pair of dark brown eyes in a handsome face stared back at me.
A startled cry escaped me as I dropped my flashlight, putting me into shadow. I froze in my fear. I must have fallen asleep in the office. I wasn’t crazy. This wasn’t real. My eyes were playing tricks on me.
Shoving my trepidation down, I blinked several times and squinted, trying to make out the figure before me.
“What do you have against this person?” The man stepped forward, his form mostly hidden in the dark. “Did he break your heart?”
I scoffed, annoyance replacing my fear. “Fuck no.”
“Oh, ho.” The man chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got a mouth on you, lady.”
Bending down to grab the flashlight, I fumbled with the switch to turn it back on. Pointing in the man’s direction, I sucked in a shaky breath. I hadn’t been wrong. I could see right through him. He wore his brown hair slightly longer so it brushed his ears. His nose was slightly crooked, like it had been broken and not set right. His lips were prettier than any girl’s I’d seen, with a full bottom and thin cupid’s bow on top. As if he had a permanent pout on his face.
His clothing was unusual, like he had stepped out of a Shakespearean play. His white, billowy shirt was open at the neck and covered him down to his hands. Brown pants were tucked into soft brown shoes. Either this man had died during a play, or he was…
“You’re a ghost?”
Those pouty lips quirked up at one side, one brow arched. “You’re a quick one, aren’t you? Benedick Cheverell.” He bowed at the waist, his arms out to either side. “At your service, my lady.”
I snorted. “I’m no lady and you aren’t real.” With a curl of my lips, I added, “Benedick.”
“You can call me Ben, if you so wish, and I’m very much real.” He lifted his head and stepped toward me. I flinched back as his fingers skimmed my cheek. His touch was cool and made me shiver before sliding through my skin. “Real enough, in any case.”
I lifted the hand with the flashlight and pushed his hand away. To my astonishment, it went straight through him. I shook my head and stepped back. “I don’t care who or what you are. You’re trespassing.”
Ben grinned. “And where do you suppose I go? Hmm? Back to my unholy grave?” His eyes flickered to the right where I assumed his grave sat. “I can’t leave the cemetery.” He sighed and tucked his thumbs into the front of his pants. “Alas, I am but a prisoner to my resting place. As are the rest of us.”
I balked. “The rest of you?” I spun, my flashlight darting around the empty cemetery. “There are more of you?”
Ben chuckled. “Of course. Not everyone gets to go to the great beyond. Some of us,” he took a seat on top of Peyton’s grave and laced his fingers between his legs, “are left behind.”
“Why?” I found myself stepping closer despite myself, lowering the flashlight. Being able to see through him was a bit unsettling.
He shrugged. “Who knows? Only God can answer that question. I’m just here. Until he decides I’m not.”
I nodded as if I understood. I didn’t. Not a single damn thing. All of this was out of my element. Ghosts. Unfinished business. God. It was just too much for me to handle right now.
“I…I have to go.” I moved away from him and turned back the way I came. “I have work to do.”
I hurried down the pathway with Ben’s voice calling after me.
“I’ll see you again, Braxton.”
I waved over my shoulder and didn’t stop until I was in the office with the door closed tightly behind me. Only then did I relax, and then I asked myself, “How did he know my name?”
Note from author
I’m taking the next two weeks off for the holidays. Find out what happens next in the new year. Have a great holiday season!