Resurrecting Harry Page 2

  Not my angel. The thought of Bess having to live through the same torture he’d experienced sucked the breath from his lungs. But... “Bess wouldn’t do the things you describe.”

  Jaden’s large hand came toward Harry. He tried to move away, but his feet remained still, as if they were bound with shackles. An ice cold tremor coursed his body with Jaden’s touch. Harry tried to push the giant away, but Jaden’s hand remained glued to Harry’s forehead. As if Jaden tried to retaliate, the ice turned to fire and a ripping, tearing pain centered itself in Harry’s chest and branched out through his body. He dropped to his knees in surrender. A gut wrenching scream escaped from deep inside.

  Even though Jaden’s palm no longer touched Harry, the overwhelming grief still pulsed through his veins, as if it mingled with his blood. His body fell forward, and he braced himself on his forearms as he dropped to the sawdust covered, wood floor. White hot tears scalded his cheeks.

  “That’s the problem with love. When it runs so deep, its demise can cripple and destroy,” Jaden said.

  “Make…it…stop.” Harry gasped between waves of pain.

  “Only you can do that.”

  “I’m dead!” The pain was rooted so deep, he wasn’t sure if it belonged to him, Bess, or worse, a combination. She was the only thing dying cost him. Nothing else mattered in the same way. His soul didn’t miss the house, the money he’d accumulated, not even the admiration of his fans or the prickly praise of the press. Only her. The mere thought of Jaden toying with her locked his jaw and tightened his stomach.

  “I can give you a brand new life if you use it to save her.”

  If Harry knew one thing for sure, anything too good to be true was just that. He welcomed a challenge, but not if Bess suffered the consequences. “And if I fail?”

  “You pay with your life.”

  Curiosity pushed down the throbbing heat and cutting pain. “Explain.”

  The grit between his legs and the floor melted into something soft and cushioned. The honky-tonk faded, and the padded room they first met in came back into focus.

  Jaden’s leer loomed from above. “You, Erich, with no outward traces of Harry, can be given a life in Bess’s proximity. Your sole goal: convince her to stop chasing your ghost. If you succeed, you can grow old in that body, even with her if the fates allow. But, if Bess holds her séance on the anniversary of your death, she’ll draw your spirit from its new home, and you’ll be condemned to the afterlife you don’t believe in.”

  “The same torture I’ve endured at your hands?”

  “No. Nothingness. A dark void so vast that the sinking never ends. An eternity of deprivation.”

  Jaden’s description should have deterred Harry, but he’d gladly risk that fate for another chance at a long life with Bess. Harry doubted Jaden could devise a penalty harsh enough to keep him from trying. After all, it had been love at first sight the first time around. How would his soul being encased in a different body change that? It would be simple again.

  “Despite what you think, she won’t recognize you on sight as the man she loved,” Jaden commented, as if Harry had conveyed his own thoughts aloud.

  Of course she would. Their love lived and breathed with a life of its own. It was more than the sum of them, it consumed them. Hers would recognize his, regardless of the body it was wrapped in or what Jaden believed. “I have one month to convince Bess not to hold a séance, and I can have a second chance at a life with her? The only barrier is she won’t recognize me?”

  “And you cannot tell her the simple truth. If you do, it’s an automatic failure, and a win for me.”

  Jaden had no concept of their love. “But when she recognizes me, then can I tell her the truth?”

  “If the day comes that she believes with all her heart you are Harry wrapped in new skin, then you may confirm it. But, Erich, you remember the woman you fell in love with. You don’t even know the one your contradictions have destroyed.” Again, Jaden spoke to Harry's thoughts instead of the words he’d vocalized, cementing the idea the giant was omniscient.

  “Why are you giving me this chance?” Not that Jaden’s answer mattered. He’d already decided to take the wager and deal with the repercussions later.

  “Not important. The question is: Are you man enough to save her?”

  “What do I need to do?”

  “Just agree to the terms.”

  ***

  Time heals all wounds. What a load of hooey!

  Bess tugged hard on the desk drawer and freed it from its confines. Dumping the contents on the dining room table, she sifted through the odds and ends, looking for the small, black book Harry called his bible. It held the phone numbers of preferred service providers and notes on everyone they’d ever met. Since he’d died, she learned Eli could mow the lawn, but he never trimmed or fertilized it. Jeffery charged a fair price to take care of the storm windows and screens twice a year, but would he know how to fix that ancient, fuel oil furnace? It’d been coughing and hacking like Uncle Ralph with his emphysema for weeks. In the middle of the night, the monster gave up the fight and puttered its last breath.

  The Santa Ana winds were blowing this morning, but they wouldn’t last. Fall would give way to winter and the furnace was long overdue for service. She wished Harry would have kept his word and replaced that clunker last year. Instead, he hid everyday necessities as if they were treasured secrets, and made it so hard for her to go on alone.

  “Damn you for always living in the moment!” She picked up a pen and tried to scribble on a worn, yellow notepad. As she suspected, no ink. She tossed them both in the garbage. A laugh spilled from her as the items clanked against the metal. Cold and empty, just like her life.

  What she’d give for one more day with him.

  When Harry died, it was like she had forgotten how to breathe, but that came back in time and she’d figure out how to take care of this too. She had no choice but to go on, praying he’d find a way to keep his most important promise.

  I’ll return to you, if at all possible.

  She pressed her fingers to her eyes. No time for tears, let alone sobs. Only four weeks remained until the first anniversary of his death and the séance to call forth his spirit. There was so much left undone, including choosing the venue and a medium. For years she’d been Harry’s faithful assistant, but now she ran the show. He needed her more in death, and she’d succeed no matter the cost.

  A knock on the back door, just off the kitchen, drew her from her thoughts. She pulled the curtain aside and smiled at Gail Cooper.

  Don’t you let that harlot in, Bess. You know she’s just a well-dressed con-artist.

  Gail and Martin had cut Harry, but they’d been a blessing since his death. If Harry knew how much they’d helped, he’d forgive Gail, right? A cool breeze from the open window brushed against Bess’s neck, arguing with her. To him, Gail’s actions were unforgivable. He’d hate her in his house. Bess opened the door anyway. “Good morning. You’re out early.”

  “Is it too early to be calling?” Gail’s blonde hair was perfectly set, and her cheery blue eyes shined like the morning sun, but neither her eyes nor the actual sunrise were enough to lift Bess’s spirits today.

  “Heaven’s no, I’ve been up for hours.” She opened the door wider, trying hard to be hospitable. “Come, sit down and I’ll pour us some coffee.”

  Gail followed Bess to the kitchen and took a seat at the table. “I headed over just after the nanny left to take the kids to school. I wanted to catch you before you left for town. I know you like to run your errands on Monday mornings.”

  Children...if only Harry and I had been so blessed.

  Retrieving two cups from the cupboard, Bess filled them and then joined Gail at the table. “If it wasn’t for that stupid furnace, I might already be gone. It quit working overnight.”

  “Oh dear. It’s been one thing after the other with this house hasn’t it?”

  Bess swept her hand over the clutter. “I
still can’t find Harry’s little book. Eleven months, you’d think I’d have stumbled across it by now.”

  “Now don’t you fret, Bess. I’ll have Martin send Joseph over this afternoon to take a look at that furnace and anything else you need repaired.”

  “That’s nonsense. Joseph is studying to become a doctor. He has more important things to do then clean and repair my furnace.”

  “He’s Martin’s student,” Gail corrected in a familiar disapproving tone. The same one she often used in reference to the protégée. “If you ask me, he should be more grateful for the opportunities Martin gives him. There isn’t another facility or physician who would take one of them on as a fellow.”

  “Do you mean Cabazon tribe member?” So many held Martin’s second wife under scrutiny, but Bess tried not to judge. Even though, at times like this, Gail made it difficult not to agree with them.

  “Martin gives him so much. The very least Joseph can do is help one of our dear friends.”

  Bess wanted to accept the offer. It’d be one less worry. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Joseph to help. He was someone she’d grown to trust in the past few months. When Bess volunteered at the hospital, she and Joseph had shared many conversations about herbal remedies and native healing methods. But, Harry’s imagined voice whispering in her ear and the need to start standing alone confirmed her refusal. “That’s not necessary. Now, you didn’t come by to listen to me whine.”

  “I just wanted to drop these off.” Gail offered up a sterling silver flask and leather bound book.

  The weight of the container surprised Bess. “What is this?”

  “Some of Martin’s homemade, blackberry brandy. You said you were having trouble with the meditation I’ve been teaching you. A sip or two will help open your mind to the other side.”

  Bess, my angel, it’s so important that we keep our minds clear and our body fit for the stage. Alcohol compromises both.

  Harry’s words rang in her mind as if he were in the room with her. She always felt him next to her, helping her with every decision. But it was past time to stop that. Wasn’t it? “Thank you, Gail. You’ve been so helpful. Your training will be the key to Harry’s success. I’m sure.”

  “A successful séance is going to be so much more about you than him. His spirit simply exists. You’ll be the one in control, not him. You need to learn how to let go of your own thoughts and concerns, open yourself to the universe and let those on the other side invade your body. Let Harry use you to deliver his messages. Read the book. It was a great help to me.”

  For the first time, Bess looked closely at the cover. The Principles of Nature, Her Divine Revelations, and a Voice to Mankind by Andrew Jackson Davis.

  Tomfoolery! Harry’s voice echoed on the wind. She could see his face all crinkled up at the mere thought of her reading it, let alone praying she learned a way to hear his voice for real, instead of just in her daydreams.

  Bess bit her lip. Harry would hate her discussing their act with Gail, but if she couldn’t lean on a friend, then who could she trust? “You know that Harry and I worked a spiritualist con in the early days?”

  Gail frowned. “You aren’t the only ones, Bess. But just because spiritualism can be faked, doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Now that didn’t sound very convincing. What’s the matter, honey?”

  It’s a con game. Once you know how it’s done, it’s easy as pie and as lucrative as sin.

  Bess tried to close out the running commentary, but he was so much a part of her life and ignoring his influences was like cutting off her arm. “Harry was brilliant and a very quick study. It didn’t take him long to learn how to con a grieving loved one. He and I performed the illusion quite effectively for a long time.”

  “Some people prey on the grieving, but some are true, spiritual mediums. I know Harry thought I manipulated him, but you forget he asked me to try and contact his mother, not the other way around.”

  “That’s the point, Gail. A lot of people do things while they are grieving that they normally wouldn’t.” And Bess knew that all too well. She’d found comfort from two people Harry had declared nemeses. “It devastated him to lose his mother. The way he took care of her, you’d think he was the parent. She lived a full life, but it was still too short for him.” It marked the beginning of his search for a true medium. That obsession — and Gail’s falsehoods — ended Harry’s long-time friendship with Martin Cooper and Gail too.

  And now look at her stumbling down the same path and hoping against hope that her husband could find a way to do the one thing he believed impossible.

  “You’re still defending his actions.” Gail exhaled as if Bess was a hopeless cause. “Of the two, you are the strong one. Harry is going to need someone at that séance whom he can use, someone who is completely open to his state of being. You can’t serve him if you lose faith.”

  Bess twisted her wedding ring. Roseabelle — their code word for believe — was engraved on the inside of it. Where another man would have declared his love, Harry asked for her undying faith. He’d want her to believe that he could escape any confine, physical or mental. No, not want. He’d demand it of her.

  Not knowing what to say, Bess nodded. She knew that because of the coded message sealed in an envelope in her safe she couldn’t be the medium at the séance, but she couldn’t share that detail with Gail and risk losing her coaching. Bess needed to learn everything Gail offered if there was any hope of Harry coming to her alone before the big show. If Harry was able to reconnect with this world, he’d deliver only that message.

  Maybe it was selfish of her to want the Great Houdini to put her above his public, but after everything she’d done for him, and all the pain she’d lived with since his death, she deserved it. She’d tell Gail the truth soon, but not while there was still time to contact Harry alone.

  Chapter Three

  Steamy, thick air kissed Erich’s cheeks, and his head rolled back on his shoulder. He embraced as an old friend the breeze he once cursed. Different than the dream state he’d been tied to for so long, real flesh encased his spirit. The body he sensed with Jaden gave form and had a sense of touch, but not with this intensity or clarity.

  He was alive.

  In the past, Harry might have ducked into one of the shops that lined the street for some shade, but Erich refused to escape anything this new life offered.

  According to Jaden, Harry died eleven months earlier, making this a lovely September day, despite the Santa Anas. He didn’t have to look up the block to see the small deli he and Bess frequented to know he stood in their old Laurel Canyon, California neighborhood. The scent of fresh pastries and frying chicken permeating the air confirmed it.

  He found his bearings and turned toward the house. Four short blocks now separated him from the only love he’d ever know. With one goal in mind, he quickened his pace and headed for their home – and her. Rounding the corner, he collided with a woman, causing her to drop her purse and spill its contents across the narrow walk.

  Erich knelt and a sharp pain stabbed his right side. His instinct told him to cradle it and investigate the cause, but the sooner he scooped the wallet, keys, coins and pens into the brown leather bag, the sooner he’d be with his beloved. He inhaled sharply and the pain subsided.

  The sunlight reflected off a silver band wrapped in a broken chain. He instantly recognized it and his heart seized. Jaden really gave him his life back! As Erich slid his fingers over the etching, his throat closed around mounting tears.

  His ring!

  The sterling silver felt cool to his touch. He dropped the handbag and started to unravel the chain, needing to return it to his finger and reclaim his life.

  “Excuse me, young man. That is my property.”

  Bess’s voice stole his breath. But the words? Young man? He fine-tuned his focus beyond the ring and centered it on his flesh: smooth and soft, no lines of time and no cal
luses. Just how young was he?

  So, that’s the way Jaden played his games. No catches, indeed. An age difference would be a challenge, yes, but he welcomed it. The thrill of fighting against the odds and winning gave him a high – similar to the way others described a stiff drink or a good cigar. Harry didn’t know for sure if those were good comparisons. He always resisted both activities, opting instead to keep his body pure and fit for the stage, but they felt right.

  “Return the ring and the necklace to me this instant!”

  Bess’s voice sliced the air. Her bitter tone sounded as sweet as a songbird’s call. Erich lifted his head bit by bit in order to make this moment last. The first time Harry laid eyes on Bess remained etched in his mind, and this memory would sit next to that one in honored glory.

  “Bess.” Her name slid off his tongue.

  Hypnotized by her dark eyes, he scooped up the purse and offered it to her as he stood.

  “That’s right. Doesn’t make you clairvoyant because you know my name. My husband — God rest his soul — made sure it would never be forgotten. Now, please. His ring.”

  A jagged, icy edge laced her voice. Coupled with her closed off stance, it cut at his new flesh. What happened to the sweet woman of his heart?

  Despite Jaden’s warning, he’d believed their eyes would lock, and much like the first time, love would blossom like lilies on a spring day. Instead, she demanded he give her back the symbol of their undying love. Nothing could hurt worse, even though his rational mind knew she couldn’t recognize him. Not so soon, anyway. The connection he’d put all his faith in was broken like the delicate chain.

  He laid the jewelry in her out-stretched palm. A familiar energy pulsed between the point where their hands touched, proving to Erich that not even time and death could alter what they’d once shared. Bess must have felt the same sensation. It was too strong to be ignored. She had to see something in his eyes and hear something in his voice.

  He willed her to grab on to the connection between them, not knowing if she sensed it. “Here you go, Angel.”