Chapter 5

He should have done them when she was alive, when she could have loved him back.

But she was dead, and this creature was in his house. She might look,

talk and smell like the dead girl but it was all an illusion.

“Look lady, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but the

jokes up. I don’t want to play this game. Tell me who sent you and get

out,” he said as he brushed her hand from his arm.

She stepped back, hurt at his rejection. “Jeffrey,” she pleaded.

“We’ve known each other for as long as I can remember. How do you

not know me now?”

Before he could answer, a different thought occurred to Shayne.

“Or,” she had the accusing tone now, “are you not who you claim to be?

How is it that you have aged years in the span of hours?” she demanded.

His eyes narrowed at her accusation. “I am Jeffrey Poynter. This is

my house and has been for the last ten years.”

“Prove it!”

“Prove it?” he roared! “Why should I prove anything to you?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll call the police,” she replied. She turned

on her bare heel and started toward the dining room after the phone. She

silently cursed herself for not thinking to call them while the mad man

stomped through her house. “He could have murdered me already!” she

scolded herself through clenched teeth.

Shayne made it about ten feet before Jeffrey’s hand clamped down

on her wrist and whirled her around to face him. He held up his open

wallet to her face. The picture was bad, but it was him. She read the

name slowly. This old man was indeed Jeffrey but just what had

happened to him, she did not know.

“Now you?” he demanded.

Shayne sighed as she walked to the foyer. She stopped and blinked,

then turned to the man. “What did you do with my purse?” She glared at

him. “I put it right here on the table when I got home from school,” she

insisted. “And my backpack is gone too!” Her hands flew to her hips and

her foot tapped impatiently.

“You think I took it!” he snapped at her. “That’s it!” he huffed as he

turned to go down the arched hall. “Now I’m calling the police!” He

turned his back on her.

Shayne watched him walk. She looked closer at him, looking for the

joke behind all this. Hadn’t she just seen him in her typing class this

morning? Hadn’t she practically begged him to be careful at tonight’s

home game? Didn’t she all but blurt out that she was hopelessly in love

with him? Shayne went to school every single morning hoping that it

would finally be the day he woke up and realized she was right there if

front of him all along. Her eyes searched his back for answers to

questions she didn’t know how to ask.

“Wait!” she said as she recognized the scar. Three thin angry

puckered lines glared at her, exposed by his grey tank top. He froze,

giving her time to walk up behind him.

“Jeffrey,” she said, her voice low and husky. There was no question

in the way she said his name now. She knew he was who he claimed to

be. “You never told me it left a scar,” she said softly in his ear.

He turned his head to look at her. His body so near, he only needed

to turn slightly to embrace her. She could see that he wanted to reach out

to her. However, he only clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides

as he turned to face her. Being so close to her was unnerving.

“That scar on your right shoulder, I put it there in the second grade,”

she said. Her voice shook with emotion. “We were fighting. You pulled

my hair and I crawled under a desk to get away. But you came after me

and tried to pull me out.” He could see the tears just under the surface

again as she spoke. “I scratched you. It was the first and last time I ever

scratched anybody,” she admitted.

“Shayne,” he acknowledged. His hand reached behind him to trace

the scar. “No other woman ever left such a mark on me,” he said. His

voice tainted with double meaning. “I guess I’ll always have your scar,”

Jeffrey whispered.

She could see the pain in his eyes. What could have hurt him so

deeply? “I’m sorry,” she said, not really sure what she was apologizing

for.

“I’m dreaming,” he stated shaking his head sadly. “I’m only

dreaming again and none of this is real.”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure this is happening.” She reached up

and pinched his hand lightly.

He recoiled at the sudden pain. “OK,” he said as the wheels in his

head turned.

“You’re a ghost!” he half yelled at her.

“A ghost?” she said with a chuckle. She was laughing as she asked,

“What makes you think I’m a ghost?”

“No other explanation,” he said, his face pale.

“That’s stupid.” Shayne continued to laugh. “I’m not anymore a

ghost then you are. Besides if I were a ghost, why would I haunt you?”

His mouth opened and closed several times. Shayne howled in

laughter. “You look like a fish,” she said. Jeffrey laughed then too. It

wasn’t the laugh she remembered but one of stress. His smile didn’t

quite seem genuine. “Oh for Pete’s sake,” she exclaimed. “Can you hurt

a ghost?”

Jeffrey shook his head. She lifted her wrist presenting it as evidence.

Finger shaped red marks from his hands circled around her wrists. The

half-smile was replaced by a frown, as he looked at the ground,

embarrassed at his aggression.

“I don’t understand,” he stammered. “As much as I wish you were

real. You can’t be.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “I thought we were past this already?”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Shayne Anderson died

almost ten years ago.”

“No!” Her world swam. “You’re mistaken,” she said as hysterics

filled her.

“I’m not,” he said. “I wish I were. I was there, Honey. We buried

you ten years ago.” He paused and reached for her. “I’d give anything to

make it not true, I would have given up my own life to change it.”

Shayne turned abruptly and dashed through the foyer. He heard the

blue vase on the claw foot table shatter to the floor as she passed. He

closed his eyes and listened to her feet running up the winding stairs and

down the hall. It sounded as if she were breaking everything in sight as

she escaped him. He lurched forward clutching his gut as he heard the

secret attic door open. He winced in pain at each thud of her feet on the

narrow attic stairs. Jeffrey sank to his knees on the foyer floor clutching

his chest as he heard the first of her sobs. His broken silent voice cried

out his misery. He put his hand across his mouth to muffle his heartbreak

as he fell apart.

He had just destroyed the dead girl.