Resurrecting Harry Page 3

  Her jaw locked. Though laugh lines etched her cheeks, reminding him of the love and joy they’d shared, no other traces of happiness remained on her face. For the first time, he understood Jaden’s warning. This wasn’t his Bess. Not anymore. The passage of time and depths of her misery could be mapped in the wrinkles at her temples and reflected in her cold, brown eyes.

  “If you would be so kind as to return my handbag, I’ll be on my way.”

  The way she treated him like an outsider shook him off balance. Of course, in this body, he was a stranger. His knees trembled. His head went light. It’s just not possible.

  Not wanting her to hear the tears constricting his voice, he silently offered the leather bag and stepped aside. He stumbled back and leaned against the brick wall, letting it hold his weight as she whisked around the corner. His heart belonged to her, and she held the string, dragging it behind her as she walked away.

  The very first time they’d met, he spilled his drink on her dress, but she’d accepted his apology and, in no time at all, became quite taken with him. He had expected that warm, flirty smile and knew somewhere inside she’d never mistake him for anything but the love of her life. Yet, she had.

  Why had he unraveled the chain from his ring? Because inside he was still Harry and that ring belonged to him. To her, those actions made him look like a thief. Instead of moving forward, his first encounter with Bess had set him back. Instead of building trust, he now had to regain it.

  “I think we’ll call that strike one.”

  Jaden.

  He also leaned against the same wall. His leather outfit had been replaced with blue-grey flannel trousers and a white dress shirt, but the clothes didn’t help him blend into the surroundings. Still tall, still thin, the same ice-blue eyes that shone like no other. This man — if that’s what he was — would never appear normal in this world.

  Erich’s shoulders dropped. “You’ve set me up for one last round of torture before you sentence me to my never-ending Hell. Why don’t you just be done with it now?”

  “Giving up was never Harry’s style.”

  Jaden’s comment seemed off the cuff, but struck as if it were a blow to the chin. In life, he never once abandoned something he believed in. Was this different because it was hard? No. He had faced many obstacles in his short life, and the only one he ever failed to conquer was his own health. He owed Bess that same determination regardless if Jaden was right and his contradictions had made her into this cold, empty being. “I’m still me. No matter what you’ve done to my face.”

  “If you still believe that at month’s end, the whole wager will be for nothing.”

  He’d never be ashamed to call himself Harry Houdini, despite Jaden’s disgust. Because of his hard work, everyone knew who he and she were. “How can I not be me? That’s impossible.”

  “This is not a game or one of your illusions. What you feel and how you act must come from your heart or it means nothing.”

  “If this isn’t a game, why the bet?”

  Jaden’s chest rose and fell, and his lanky body shook with his sinister laugh. “I didn’t say we couldn’t have a little fun with it now.”

  How dare he amuse himself with his and Bess’s pain? The agony of returning his ring and watching her walk away hurt like nothing he’d experienced in all his years of death defying acts. Not even the months he’d spent tortured by Jaden cut more. If Bess hurt even a fraction of what he did, Erich would do anything to save her. If only he knew where to start.

  “I’d put myself in a place where she can’t ignore you.”

  Jaden could read his mind. Erich was positive now. Despite the invasion into his private thoughts, Jaden’s words made sense. He’d have to find some way to become part of her life – not as the man he once was, but as who Jaden had made him.

  “There is a wallet and an ID that no employer would question in your back pocket.”

  As Erich twisted to retrieve it, pain shot through his side. He spun back, but Jaden had disappeared. No real surprise, he hadn’t been much help so far.

  Alone, he investigated the throbbing to find a six inch wound bound with stitches. He wasn’t a doctor, but he’d seen enough injuries to guess this one was only a few days old. Another obstacle? Or was it a veiled reminder of the appendix surgery Harry received a few days before he died?

  More of Harry’s memories rolled through Erich’s mind like a movie. Harry had been in such agony the last several days of his life, but refused to let anything stand in the way of providing for Bess or pleasing the fans who had spent hard-earned money to watch him perform. If Erich were to take a page from his book, this fresh incision was no cause for concern.

  His attention back on the billfold, he stroked the fine leather. Even when he’d been able to afford it, he’d never have spent the money on such a luxury. Flipping the wallet open, he rummaged through the pockets until he found the papers Jaden spoke of and then read the details of his new identity: Erich Welch, born in 1902. That made him…twenty-four.

  Less than half the age Harry had been at death. Half Bess’s age.

  No wonder Bess had called him a young man. It was going to be hard enough to get her to give anyone other than Harry a second look, but someone so young? Near impossible.

  ***

  Safe inside the deli, Bess’s walls fell. The strong face she reserved for the public evaporated. Grief enveloped her like the darkness of being closed in one of Harry’s trunks or the seemingly endless nights since he’d died. So much for a crisp, new start, free of those memories.

  Unclenching her hand, she looked down at the sterling ring and fingered the broken chain. It should still be on his finger, but in the last moments before they closed the coffin, her eyes fixated on the memento and her heart demanded she keep it. The chain, an anniversary gift from Harry, kept the ring close to her heart until it had snapped a week ago while she worked in the flower garden. She felt naked not having the comforting weight of the ring brush against her chest, but avoided dropping the chain off at the jeweler. Too much pain to discuss with strangers and way too precious to let out of her sight, she closed the symbols of their love in her fist, unable to let go of him or their past.

  And that man might have stolen them. As quick as the thought flashed through her mind, Bess dismissed it. If he’d intended to take the jewelry, she wouldn’t have been able to stop him. Besides, his eyes were too kind and his smile too sweet for him to be a ruffian.

  And he’d called her “Angel.” Just like Harry.

  Was that some kind of confirmation that moving forward was the right choice? Or was she looking for signs where none existed? Even so, the young man refused to leave her thoughts.

  Goodness, he’s just a child. And she was married. Or had been. Even if almost a year had passed, her heart still belonged to her husband. She had no business noticing how attractive the stranger was.

  “Are you all right, Bess?” Will Johnson, owner and operator of the Courtyard Deli, stood before her. He wiped his large hands on his stained apron and looked on with a father-like concern.

  Oh, yes, I’m fine.”

  When he offered her his plump arm, Bess took it, allowing him to guide her to the corner booth in the back of the restaurant. “You sit right down, sweetheart, and let me bring you some coffee and a sweet roll.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you to fuss over me.”

  “Aren’t you lucky? You don’t have to find out.” He scurried behind the counter, pouring her a cup of coffee and picking the largest pastry from the display case.

  “Since I’m your only customer at the moment, please pour yourself a cup and come sit with me.” Part of her made the long walk to the deli at least twice a week out of habit. So many mornings she and Harry would wake up early, make the leisurely stroll and spend the morning enjoying the fresh coffee and baked goods while reading the paper. Another part of her kept the ritual alive because she feared the alternative: closing herself in the house an
d letting the walls suffocate her. The grief became bearable when her friends were around.

  “I can sit for a few minutes, little lady.” Will wedged himself into the seat across the table. “I’m worried about you. You look like you saw a ghost.”

  Maybe she had. Or maybe it was more like that déjà vue stuff she read about in dime store novels. Bess didn’t believe in either, but running into that man on the street made her feel just like she had the day she’d met Harry. She set the ring and chain down on the table. “I bumped into a man on the street and my purse spilled.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. I just feel so scattered. So alone.”

  “But you’re not.”

  Harry’s memory and the imagined voice whispering in her ear weren’t real company, and her friends only filled the void in short spurts. Unable to speak around the lump choking her throat, she nodded.

  “Is that Harry’s?” he asked, pointing to the ring.

  “I should have buried him with it. That’s what he would have wanted.”

  “All Harry ever wanted was to see your smile.”

  “Hmph!” She scooped the jewelry off the table. “Material things were more important to my husband. The act, the fans, the money and what he could buy with it.”

  Will scraped his jaw with the back of his hand. “Oh, I see how it is. You’re in one of these moods again. You know he wanted the nice things for you.”

  The ring and tangled chain slipped from her hand and clattered against the table. “I’d rather have him.”

  “I know that. That’s why these are so important to you. It keeps him close. He’d like that.” Will picked up and examined the broken end of the chain. “How did this happen?”

  “It got caught on a rose bush while I was weeding. I need to stop by the jewelers.”

  “If you’d like, I can take it home tonight and try to fix it.”

  His kind offer touched her heart. “Thank you, I’d like that. And so would Harry.”

  “So what brings you into town today? Just the usual errands?” Will asked as he pulled himself from the booth and retreated behind the counter.

  “I need to stop at the grocery store and the drug store. And I need to find someone who can fix that blasted furnace.”

  Will stabbed a few buttons on the cash register until the drawer slid out. He dropped the ring and necklace into one of the compartments and then pushed it shut. “What you need to do, is have that thing replaced. It’s been nothing but one headache after the other for you.”

  “I don’t know anything about buying a new furnace, or who I would have to install it. Goodness knows I haven’t chosen repairmen well.”

  “Or maybe you can’t bear to let go of anything that belonged to Harry, no matter how much danger it’s putting you in.”

  Bess clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, trying to hide the fact that Will had zeroed in on the truth. “Bothersome, maybe, but I don’t believe that furnace has me in harm’s way.”

  The bell sounded above the door. A young couple entered and approached the counter. Before tending to the customers, Will gave Bess all his focus. “I’m not so sure about that. Let me ask around for you and see what I can find out.”

  Chapter Four

  As Erich opened the door to the deli, the scent of fresh brewed coffee and hot cinnamon permeated the air, reminding him of home. Whether he and Bess were here in California, back in Brooklyn, or in any city that they performed in around the world, simple rituals like quiet time to drink coffee and read the paper had been the foundation of their married life. More than a building or a city, any moment Harry shared with Bess was home.

  With a sideways glance, he saw her sitting alone in the corner booth, a large white mug and small plate with a half-eaten roll pushed aside and forgotten. Her eyes were locked on the pages of the book cradled in her hands. How could Bess not even notice him when she was his whole world? He fought the desire to go to her and make some excuse for acting so weird before. Instead, he approached the counter, holding the help wanted sign he’d pulled from the window. He resisted the urge to call the owner by name. “Excuse me, sir. I see you’re looking for kitchen help.”

  “I am.” Will wiped his hands on the bottom of the apron before offering to shake Erich’s. “I need someone who can bus tables, do dishes and make deliveries. It’s hard, physical labor. You think you’re up to it?”

  Without Harry’s thoughts and memories, Erich might have been insulted, but with them he knew Will shot from the hip and laid everything out in the open. Harry never shied from hard work and kept his body in peak physical form. It was a necessity of his job. But what of this body? Would it respond and react in the same way just because Harry’s thoughts and knowledge filled Erich’s head?

  From the fit of his clothes and bulk of his arms, Erich guessed he’d have the same strength as before. Along with Harry’s worldly knowledge, he’d conquer anything put in front of him. The throbbing incision in his right side might be an obstacle, but he’d persevere. He didn’t have another choice. If working here got him close to Bess, he’d endure any pain. “I promise I’ll do all you ask and more.”

  “You don’t look familiar. You new around here?”

  He wanted to remind Will of the dozens of conversations they’d had at that very counter. Instead, he heeded Jaden’s warning: better to effect change as someone else rather than a ghost. “Just got to town. I’ll also be looking for a place to stay.”

  “If I give you the job, I’ll expect you by five every morning, and you’d work until everything is cleaned up from the lunchtime rush. Fifty cents an hour is the wage, plus the tips you might earn on deliveries.”

  “That sounds fair.” The salary was inconsequential. Erich needed this job if he were to meet his goal. From behind the counter he’d watch Bess, talk to her and connect with her. Regardless of how hurt or jaded she’d become, an undeniable bond existed between their spirits. All it would take is a little time. If he let go of that notion he might as well let go of her. He’d do neither.

  “Say I decide to hire you, when can you start?”

  “Is right now too soon?”

  The portly elder laughed. “Why don’t you tell me your name first?”

  Erich swallowed the urge to answer “Harry Houdini” and instead stated the name adorned him by Jaden. His tongue tripped over it, and it rang foreign in his ear.

  “I like your spirit, Erich. Why don’t we give today a try and see how you work out? There’s a clean apron on the back of the kitchen door and a sink full of dirty dishes.”

  “You’ll see, sir. I won’t let you down.” Erich’s chest swelled with pride in a sought-out-task completed, even if this was just another mundane job. Harry had done more than his share of manual labor and knew this kind of work left him feeling confined.

  Stepping behind the counter transported Harry back to his childhood. Then, he’d been forced to work to support his family. The instinct to flee uncoiled itself in his stomach, but so much more than a loaf of bread lay in the balance this time. He wasn’t working to feed his family; this was about reclaiming his wife and his life.

  Tackling a sink full of coffee-stained cups and syrup-covered plates didn’t allow him to interact with her. “If you’d like, I could tend to your customers. Refill coffee and water, maybe bus tables.”

  Will shook his head and grabbed Erich’s forearm, leading him into the kitchen. As the door swung to and fro across the threshold, Will spoke in a low, firm voice that Harry had never heard. “Mrs. Houdini likes her solitude. You’d do best to remember that. I’ll tend to her needs. You take care of the dishes.”

  Erich pivoted to the sink and began tying the apron strings behind his back with swift, yet smooth movements. He appreciated the friendship and loyalty to Harry that motivated Will’s actions. If any other man tried to hit on his Bess, Harry would want Will there ready to throttle him. But Erich wasn’t any other man, and Will’s presence didn’t de
ter, only irritated.

  Erich scrunched his nose at the odor rising up from the pile of breakfast dishes. Busboy was a long fall from master escape artist, and he had no intention of spending a moment more than necessary in this role. All it would take was time and the right choice of words for his angel to see through the facade and recognize him as Harry. Until he achieved his goal, though, he’d have to play this little game.

  Filling the appropriate sink bays with soapy water, rinse water and sanitizer, he picked through the dishes, washing only coffee mugs until he had enough to fill a large brown tray. A deep breath braced his lacerated stomach muscles as he lifted the tray and pushed the door open with his back. Setting the mugs on the counter, Erich ignored the other patrons in the diner and zeroed in on Bess sipping her coffee, but her eyes never left the book. When she unceremoniously licked her finger and turned the page, Erich’s gut tightened. Oh, to hold her close and inhale the scent of her skin.

  Physical need: one more thing to add to the list of sensations lost to his post-life body and regained in this new flesh. One more thing he’d never again take for granted and would move Heaven and earth to reclaim.

  Swallowing his ache, he squatted down and began putting the cups on the shelf. This vantage point blocked his view of Bess, but her presence still called to him. He wrestled down the undeniable craving, knowing that if he pushed too hard or too fast it would only set off her defensive instincts.

  The bell above the door sounded, announcing another customer, who Will greeted with a hearty welcome. “Erich, bring a fresh cup of coffee for Sergeant Fisher and one of those pecan rolls.”

  The officer took a stool at the counter, patted his stomach and laughed. “I’ll take the coffee and a turkey sandwich. Let’s skip the pecan roll today.”

  “Look at this?” Will laughed, patting the officer’s back. “Trying to act like he’s got to watch his weight.”

  “If I ate all the pastries you pushed my way, my uniform wouldn’t fit.” Fisher spun the stool toward Erich. “Just a cup of coffee and the turkey sandwich, please, on rye.”