Page 14 of Ronen
Papa pushed away from the table, taking his cup and rinsing it in the sink. “We’d better get going, we don’t want to be late. Are you boys driving with us, or on your own?”
“Matty better drive with you,” I stood up, and stretched. “That silly car of his isn’t made for snow.”
Matty rolled his eyes at me. “My car does just fine, thank you very much, and she’s so pretty when she does it. Besides, the roads are clear. But I will drive myself, since I have papers to grade tonight. I’ll need to head home probably before you two will want to leave.”
We all headed outside to our vehicles, and I noticed the ghost standing next to my Jeep. Throwing up a hand in a halting motion, I said, “No.”
My family, long used to the fact that I could see and talk to ghosts, kept walking.
“Anyone of interest?” Dad asked, opening the car door for Papa.
“Just William,” I told them, seeing Dad’s face turn into a mask of tightness. “So definitely not anyone of importance.”
“I need to speak to you,”William told me, though his icy blue eyes–the Sinclair eyes–were glued to my dad.
They really did look remarkably alike, especially as dad aged. Though in truth, William was forever younger–since he had died at fifty–than dad was.
“And,” opening my car door, I slid into my seat, jamming my key into the ignition. I had forgotten my remote start again. “I have nothing to say to you. Go haunt someone else. Better yet, go into the light. Why are you still hanging around here? No one wants to speak to you. I asked the entire family. It was a resounding no. Might have been a couple of fuck no’s thrown in.”
“Ronen, please,”William pleaded.
Instead of acknowledging him, I slammed the door, only to have him materialize in my passenger seat. Ignoring him, I turned on my classic hair band playlist and let the sounds of Def Leppard drown him out.
Thank the Goddess it was an extremely short drive to my grandmother’s house. About one and a half songs worth. Usually, the pulsing beat made my heart happy, but tonight it was just making my head hurt more than it already was from lack of sleep.
“Something’s coming!”William yelled over the lyrics about sugar, to which I was singing along at the top of my lungs. Loudly and off-key.“Something is coming for you!”
Slamming my Jeep to a halt in my grandmother’s circular drive in front of the five-story mansion she had called home since she was eighteen, I turned the music down and glared at him.
“Elaborate,” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly, though the dreams that had been causing me to lose sleep sat in the back of my mind.
William shook his head full of thick, gray hair.“Something evil.”
“Ohhh, spooky,” I gave him my best jazz hands. “I’m going to need more than that.”
Matty was standing in front of my Jeep, giving me the are you okay look.
Holding my hands up in a I don’t know gesture, I rolled my eyes, then tossed a thumb at my seemingly empty seat.
My parents paused on the walkway outside the front door, and I waved at them to go inside, then I did the same to Matty. “I’ll be in in a minute. He’s being extra obstinate tonight.”
“You sure?” Matty called, and I nodded, giving him a shoo/go motion.
He did what I asked, but with reluctance, I could tell.
Turning in my seat to face William, I waved my hand at him. “Well, come on, give me the scary details. Don’t just leave me hanging with an ominous warning about nothing.”
Instead of looking at me, he was staring up at the brick house, and I wondered if he ever regretted how he had spent his time here on earth. Ever regretted how he had treated his wife and children.
Doubtful, knowing what I knew of him.
“William?” Saying his name, I urged him to continue. The sooner he said what he thought he needed to, the sooner he would vanish once more.
“Hmm?”Slowly, he turned to look at me.“Oh, yes. I can’t explain what it feels like on this side of the veil, and I don’t have details yet, but I can see danger around you, Ronen. Something is coming. Something bad. And, I think–”
Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by the creak of metal as my passenger door was yanked open.
My grandmother, Mary, stood there, one hand braced on her ornately carved cane, the other planted on her hip. Her once blonde hair was now all white and cut in a stylish bob that framed her still pretty face.
