If Catfish Had Nine Lives(54)

            Gram and I didn’t notice it until we arrived at Bunny’s and his wood smoke scent became strong, but Jerome had joined us, too. He had followed behind the horse.

            “Hello, Jerome,” Gram said when he moved to the front of the line. She looked at me, and then at him again.

            “Miz, always good to see you.”

            “You, too, but you sure do seem to be visiting a lot.”

            “I’m working on it,” I interjected, answering Gram’s tone and unspoken words about both Jerome’s and my behavior during those visits. Gram and Jerome both knew that I was working on figuring out how to keep my friendship with Jerome strictly friendly, not romantic. I didn’t sense that Jerome wanted to work on the same issues from his end, but he didn’t have another significant other to think about. How we managed whatever relationship we were destined to have, the details would be up to me.

            “Well, that’s a good start.” Gram sighed and pulled the door open. “Shall we go in?”





Chapter 15




            “Joe’s sticking close by,” I said as I looked out Bunny’s Restaurant’s large front window. Joe was pacing. The horse was still, almost eerily so. Earlier, I’d felt a slight breeze, but the horse’s tail and mane were motionless. Every now and then I saw his eyes blink, but his head didn’t move much.

            “He’s in a hurry to get the letters delivered,” Gram said as she looked out, too.

            “I can only imagine what it would be like to know that your task list—potentially your last task list—is almost done. He seems to think the outcome will be something positive. I hope so.”

            “I hope so, too. I really do, Betts. But it won’t be terrible if you and I don’t have to figure out what to do about the letters anymore. So far you might have found it interesting, but it does get a little tiresome.”

            “You like him, though, don’t you?”

            “To be honest, I don’t know if I like him as much as I think he’s just a kid, and one who’s alone. Gent had his family. There aren’t many younger ghosts. I don’t mind the adults being confused and alone so much. Joe has always seemed so . . . lost.”

            I should have figured that out. Gram was great at being a grandmother.

            “He was pretty adamant about not coming inside,” Jerome said.

            At first, Bunny had sat Gram and me in a small two-person booth, but we’d asked for something bigger. Bunny had pinched her lips—making her mustache bristle—and then showed us to a bigger booth. I sat on one side of the booth and Jerome and Gram sat on the other.

            “I know,” Gram said. “He seemed like he didn’t like you, Jerome. You lived long after his time. He couldn’t have known you. Maybe you just rubbed him the wrong way. Ghost envy.”

            “I’ve never met him before. Didn’t get a good look at him this time. He didn’t look at me. Never trust a man who won’t look you in the eye,” Jerome said.

            I twisted slightly and looked out the front windows again. Jerome was right; for whatever reason, Joe hadn’t wanted to look him in the eye. Even I’d noticed. “Gram, are you sure Joe has never been able to recall his last name?”

            “No. He doesn’t know. Or, I suppose, he has never wanted to tell me. I guess I don’t know which.”

            I wondered again if Jake had a way of looking up all the Pony Express riders who had, in fact, gone missing, and if there was one with the first name of Joe, or Joseph or Joey, on the list. Something wasn’t right about Joe, although—and I had to remember this—they were ghosts, and the biggest thing that wasn’t right about all of them was that they were dead. Presumably, this symptom could cause a number of other strange, potentially unexplainable occurrences. I shook off the wonky feeling and decided to think about it later.