End of the Road (Ghost Stories Trilogy #1) Read online

  “Margaret, I need those reports. The meeting is about ready to begin.”

  “Yes, right away!” I stand and smooth my skirt.

  I scoop the reports up into my arms and hurry down the hall. Not even two steps into the conference room the heel on my right shoe gets caught on the carpet and I’m almost airborne. I watch, in slow motion, as the reports fly into the air ahead of me and flutter to the floor. I land with a thud at the feet of one of the big wigs. I glance up, and through the hair in my face, see a bemused expression. I hang my head and manage to get on my knees. The man holds his hand out and helps me stand. I realize my skirt is hiked up and I’m showing a bit of leg. Oh my God, this is the worst day ever. I quickly adjust myself and mumble a thank you.

  “You’re welcome,” he says with a smile and then bends down to collect the scattered papers.

  After the meeting begins, I make a more graceful exit and go back to my desk, which is where the man who helped me finds me later in the afternoon. I stop typing and smile up at him. He has nice eyes, like pool blue; I’m surprised I didn’t notice them earlier.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Stanley Gruber,” he says and holds out his hand.

  “Peggy Wellington.” I take his hand. It’s soft, dry and warm. I can sense the strength when he lightly squeezes.

  “I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you made it through the day in one piece.” His lips twitch as if he is containing a smile…or a laugh.

  I feel myself flush, “I did, thank you.”

  “Good, then you’ll be able to go out for dinner with me tonight.”

  Oh my gosh, I didn’t see that coming! I am temporarily speechless and take a few moments to process the offer. Stanley’s cute, in a college professor sort of way. He was nice in helping me when I tripped. A dinner out would sure beat last night’s lonely hearts club meeting of one.

  “Yes, I’d love to.” Shit, I said love. Is he going to think that sounded desperate?

  “Great! Want to meet somewhere…or I can pick you up?”

  Oh, so he’s wise to the modern dating world. About a decade ago, women embraced the “free love” mind set. Now we’re more guarded and out of personal safety, more cautious. Considering my recent dating disasters, I decide to have him pick me up. At least if I get stood up, I’ll already be home.

  I write directions from his hotel to my apartment, even draw a little map. He folds the sheet of yellow lined paper and sticks it in the inside breast pocket of his navy suit jacket. He taps his hand over it like he’s patting his heart.

  “I’ll see you around 7:30,” he says and walks onto the waiting elevator. I wave and feel my insides squirm with anticipation when he winks right before the doors close.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I pull my closet apart for the right outfit. I settle on a green wrap dress. Being a redhead, green is one of the better colors for me and I want to emphasize my assets. I spritz some Halston behind my ears, behind my knees and on my cleavage. Before I even have a chance to check the time, I hear a knock on the front door.

  Not only is Stanley punctual, but he hands me a bouquet before stepping inside. “You look amazing.”

  “Thank you!” I say and quickly take in what he’s wearing. He’s ditched the suit from earlier for tan slacks and a white button down dress shirt with a butterfly collar. “You don’t look bad yourself.” He grins and follows me to the kitchen where I pull a vase out from underneath the sink. I have to rinse a layer of dust off before filling it with water. He leans on the breakfast bar and makes light conversation as I arrange the flowers.

  “Do you live alone?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Me too. I’ve been thinking about getting a dog, but work has me travel too much.”

  “Dogs are great, but I know what you mean. They need someone home.”

  He turns and surveys my living room stopping at the wall where there are a few photos on display.

  “Is this your family?” He points at the last portrait my mom had insisted we get done. It was taken over eight years ago while my youngest sister was still in high school.

  I nod and set the vase on my coffee table.

  “Are you the oldest?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “It is actually. Your one sister still has braces and you appear more confident…grown up than them.”

  “Whew, for a moment there, I thought you were saying I look old.” Oh my God, did I just say that?

  He laughs. One of his front teeth is whiter than the other from a cap and I wonder if there’s a story behind it. I realize that I don’t know anything about Stanley, but I really want to learn. “You are far from old,” he says when he finishes laughing.

  “Good response.” I smile at him and he laughs again. A hoarse, hiccup kind of laugh unlike anything I’ve heard before. It’s infectious and I join him.

  When we compose ourselves, we leave for dinner. Stanley holds the door open to a brown Chevy Caprice that is easily twice the length of my little Datsun. I slide onto the seat, trying to be graceful, but my dress rides up, exposing the back of my bare thighs which stick to the vinyl making a terrible squeaking noise. I close my eyes in mortification and can feel my cheeks heat. Stanley politely acts as if he doesn’t notice and closes the door, but it’s too late and I know my face is now probably as red as my hair.

  He takes us to Old Town Scottsdale and a small Italian restaurant. It’s a warm night for February so we sit out on the patio.

  Stanley orders a bottle of red wine and we’re quiet as we read our menus. I peer over the top of mine to watch him. A lock of brown hair hangs in his forehead. He has a nice straight nose and he lightly chews on his lower lip as he reads.

  The waiter returns to fill our glasses. We place our orders and we’re surprised when we pick the same entrée; clams linguine.

  One conversation leads to another and I find out what I thought was a cap on Stanley’s tooth is really a replacement for a tooth he lost in a sledding accident when he was 11. He grew up outside of Chicago and his description of lake effect snow is hard for me to imagine since I grew up in the desert.

  Stanley walks me to my apartment after dinner, taking my hand in his along the way. We reach the front door and I unlock it. Instead of going inside, I turn around in the doorway and lean in to kiss him. He meets me halfway, one arm winds around my waist and his hand lightly presses against the small of my back as he pulls me closer. There’s nothing awkward about us moving together and we seem to naturally fit. He is tall, but not so tall where I have to stand on my tiptoes. Stanley’s other hand slides into my hair and he cups the back of my head, tilting it just slightly. His lips are soft yet firm when he slants his mouth over mine. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I open to him, deepening the kiss. Just like with our conversation over dinner, one thing leads to another and I step backwards into my apartment, bringing Stanley with me.

  ***

  Five Months Later

  “Peggy, I think you and Stanley are moving too fast,” my mom says, with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Mom, I love him. He loves me. What more do you want?” I don’t stop to look at her as I turn from my closet with an armful of clothes and walk to my bed where a suitcase is flipped open. I toss the clothes next to the suitcase and begin sorting; picking out three sun dresses and folding them.

  “Don’t you want a big wedding with your families?” I detect the beginning of a guilt trip in her tone and face her, my hands on my hips.

  “Mom, we’re going to get married and then we’ll have a big reception later. I already told you this.”

  “I know, but…”

  “But, what? Do you think I’m making a mistake?” She doesn’t say anything, but her expression answers my question. I sigh and slam the suitcase shut. “Mom, I’m 400% sure about this. Please trust me.”

  “All I know is you’ve known this man for less than half a year and now you’re getting marrie
d and moving to Chicago. That’s fast, sweetie.”

  “My new position with Motorola is one I couldn’t pass up and it happens to be in Chicago, Mom. It’s as if fate is lighting the path for me. Everything feels right.” When Stanley first mentioned the opening in product development, I had immediately dismissed it because it’s a management role. Middle management, but still, I’d only been an executive assistant. Stanley encouraged me and told me my degree in business and understanding of operations made me a natural fit. So I applied, then interviewed. Now I’m getting married and moving in with Stanley. We’ve been talking about getting a puppy next. Flipping the latches on my suitcase, I grab it by the handle and my mom follows me out into the hall, shutting the bedroom light off behind us.

  “I can’t talk you out of this?” she says to my back.

  “Nope. This time tomorrow night, Stanley and I will be married.”

  “When will you be back?”

  I stop and look at her. “In a few days. Stanley’s coming back with me to help pack up my apartment.”

  My mom’s face crumbles and she attempts to sniff back tears. Don’t give in to her. You deserve a happily ever after.

  I set my suitcase down and pull her into a hug. “Mom, trust me on this. Stanley is a good man,” I whisper into her hair. She reaches around and grabs the back of my shirt in a tight grip.

  “I know. I just worry about you.” We hold onto each other for a few moments and then slowly pull apart. My mom wipes her eyes and smiles at me. “Call us when you get to Las Vegas, okay?”

  “I promise.” I pick my suitcase up and sling my purse over my shoulder.

  She walks out to the parking lot with me. Sweat tickles my scalp. The humidity is high today and the blue sky is painted with bulbous clouds on the horizon, a familiar sight during Monsoon season. I hope I don’t get stuck in a storm; that will really slow me down.

  “I love you Mom,” I say before I shut the door.

  “Love you too! Be careful!”

  She watches me back out and waves as I pull away.

  ***

  “…and I just want to be your everything!” I sing at the windshield. I imagine Stanley twirling me around the dance floor to this song as we’re lost in each other’s eyes. Andy Gibb is on the stage crooning to an empty room, except for us. I may be close to thirty, but I can still fantasize, damn it!

  I take a break from my day dream to check my gauges. I have a steep climb ahead of me and no rest areas in between here and Prescott. All is well so I step on the gas. Thunder rumbles around me and I am suddenly aware at how dark it has become. I glance out the window and see heavy dark clouds rolling towards the highway. Sand blows across the asphalt as if in retreat from the storm. I turn the radio down and focus on the road.

  The next thunderclap is directly overhead and I shriek as my shoulders reflexively tense up. It sounds like boulders are going to crash down on top of the car. Giant rain drops splatter against the windshield, slow at first and then growing in intensity. I ease off the gas pedal a little bit, but not by much.

  Out of nowhere a gust of wind plows into the driver’s side of my car. I struggle to stay in the lane. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly that my nails dig into my palms and I am very aware of how fast my heart is beating. Still I push on. There really isn’t anywhere to pull over on this winding road. The driver in the car behind me lays on his horn so I step on the accelerator.

  Daylight is erased as the sky is swallowed up by the darkest clouds I’ve ever seen. Lighting erupts from within their depths like the flash on a camera. The highway in front of me is illuminated briefly before the deluge starts. My windshield wipers can’t keep up with the rain as there’s basically a river running down the center and when the hail that’s mixed in with the rain hits my car, the pinging surrounds me.

  I round the bend and can barely make out the shoulder of the road, which is wider because of a clearing. I decide to pull over until the storm passes. I speed up, but another flash of lightning reveals a group of people standing on the shoulder and I’m barreling towards them. Reflexes kick in and I turn left, overcorrecting in the process. My wheels hydroplane and before I can gain control, my car punches through the guardrail with a screech.

  A scream is stuck in my throat and I can’t breathe. My car is suspended in mid-air and I am vaguely aware that my foot is still pressing down on the brake pedal. Don’t let go of the brakes, you’re not going anywhere as long as you keep your foot on the brakes. Oh no, no, no, “No!” I yell, wrapping my arms up over my face and head to protect them, as the car begins to plummet. I feel my ass leave the seat as my body is lifted, only to be stopped by the seatbelt.

  I am aware of tremendous pressure and the sound of metal being compacted mixed with shattering glass. Next, I’m aware of unbearable pain. Not in one particular area, but everywhere. Like each limb has been torn from my torso. Then it’s gone. No pain. In fact, I don’t feel anything and everything is quiet; total silence and total darkness. Oh God, I must be paralyzed and deaf. This isn’t supposed to happen. I’m getting married!

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  AFTER

  Smoke enveloped me, but didn’t affect my breathing. My eyes snapped open and I could see again. The orange Datsun was a blazing inferno. Remarkably, even though I’d been thrown from my car, I was unscathed and didn’t feel any pain. That’s when I noticed a person hanging headfirst out of the shattered driver’s side window; flames devouring the body. I recognized the red hair before it went up like a dry haystack. The new diamond engagement ring winked at me. That too, I recognized.

  “No!” I yelled at the fire. “No!” I bellowed at the retreating storm. A nearby wash, freshly engorged with rain, drowned out my cries.

  “That’s my car over there,” a male voice said from beside to me. I jumped and turned to see a man. He dimmed and grew brighter when lightning flashed. He was pointing towards a hunk of twisted, rusted metal a few feet away from the fiery remains of my car.

  “I went off the road in ’55.”

  I just stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was talking about.

  “Do you mean 1955?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you…so does that mean…are you a ghost?”

  “Yes, my name’s Frank. They’re ghosts too.” I followed his gaze to three figures standing at the top by the gnarled guardrail.

  “You! You guys did this!” Lightning flickered across the desert and energy prickled through me, amplifying my rage. I shoved Frank and he flew backwards with his mouth hanging open in shock.

  Incensed, I roared up the steep embankment and pushed at the other male ghost who wore round, old fashioned glasses which magnified his surprise. I whirled around to face the two women. Both had taken a few steps back and wore identical expressions of amazement and fear.

  The woman with long blonde hair, who I later learned was Georgia, raised her arms in surrender and moved back, away from me. “How did you do that?” she asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Move Frank and Lawrence…none of us have been able to touch anything solid before.”

  “I don’t have a clue. I’m new at this. No thanks to all of you!”

  I stormed back down the slope to the smoking scrap heap that used to be my car; I couldn’t even look at what remained of my body. Frank started to move towards me and I told him to fuck off. He shrugged and vanished. Moments later he reappeared at the top and joined the others. It was my turn to stare in amazement. This was only temporary as the anger at my new situation won out and pulsed through whatever I was; a shadow, an imprint of my former being, I didn’t know. But, I knew I’d never get to be Mrs. Stanley Gruber and it was their fault.

  ***

  The next morning the hole punched through the guardrail was discovered and shortly after that my car. I watched as they removed what was left, a charred remnant of who I used to be. I winced as pulled my body out of the metal shell and placed it in a body bag then zip
ped it closed. I tried to pound on the hood of my car to get the police officer’s attention, but I might as well have been a feather for all the impact I had.

  I stood in front of the tow truck driver and he walked right through me. For a brief moment I felt his body heat and a strange sensation, like I was being stretched. As soon as he was through me he took his baseball cap off and wiped sweat from his forehead.

  “Did you feel that cool breeze?” he asked the one of the guys from the coroner’s office, who was getting ready to carry my body to the highway

  “No, man, but we need something. It’s already a scorcher.”

  “Huh,” he scratched behind his ear and put the cap back on, then set about attaching a cable to the rear bumper of my car.

  It was all over in a matter of hours and the wind gradually erased all the footprints in the sand. Any trace of my accident disappeared.

  Frank attempted to reach out to me over the next few weeks. I asked him why the others didn’t try and he told me they weren’t able to go past the guardrail. “Good, I don’t want them down here anyway,” was my reply.

  Summer faded to fall and then winter. The others had stopped coming to the edge to check on me, which at first was fine with me because I felt like an animal on exhibit at the zoo. However, by the time the desert bloomed in the spring I was ready for some companionship. When I crossed the two lanes of highway, they didn’t say anything, just rearranged the way were standing in order to make room for me in the group. Frank welcomed me and told me his reaction after he died had been similar to mine. He wasn’t ready for his life to be over. None of them had been ready.

  Once I met everybody, they bombarded me with questions about how I was able to physically manifest and push against them. Also, how I was able to see them in the first place? Had I been able to see ghosts before? I didn’t know what to tell them and just repeated the events back. Lawrence suggested that maybe the lightning had something to do with it. Georgia agreed and thought the energy it gave off triggered something that might make us more visible and stronger. We decided to test this theory.