Beard Up by Lani Lynn Vale

Author:Lani Lynn Vale [Vale, Lani Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0727R7H3G
Published: 2017-07-26T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Bless your stupid heart.

-Coffee Cup

Mina

My husband was alive.

Those words kept repeating in my head, dropping like a bomb each and every time I thought them.

I should be furious.

I should be, but I wasn’t. I should be pitching the biggest fit to end all fits, but I wasn’t. I should be screaming at him for putting me through the last six years, but I wasn’t. I should be crying still, but I wasn’t.

Why?

Because I’d made a promise to God. I told him that if he, somehow, brought Tunnel – Ghost – back to me, that I wouldn’t waste a single second. I wouldn’t stay mad. I wouldn’t scream and cry. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the time we had together.

I’d already broken some of that promise by crying for half the damn morning. Each time that Ghost touched me, I cried. I couldn’t help it.

My husband was alive.

I shivered as I pulled my car into my driveway.

When I’d left this morning after seeing Tunnel, I’d been totally and completely lost.

I didn’t know what to do, think, say, or feel. I’d driven to the house, the one that Ghost Lane owned.

When I’d done a search on the appraisal district’s website for that man, I’d been looking for a reason to dispute the musings that had started to filter through my head.

Everything about ‘Ghost’ had started setting off little tiny alarms.

First, it’d been the way he smelled at that baseball game. Then, when I’d arrived at the house that was set up for me on such short notice, I started having my doubts.

Why would a house, one like the one I was walking into right now, be the exact house that I’d always wanted to live in? Sure, the exterior wasn’t what I’d wanted, but the interior, it was my house. My dream house—the one I’d wanted to share with my husband. The one that I’d told him about hundreds and hundreds of times over our many, many walks we used to take together.

Over the next week or so, I’d found myself suspicious.

So I watched, and the more I watched, the more suspicious I became.

Ghost…he didn’t like burgers.

Ghost stood like my husband—like a man who was confident in himself and didn’t care what any other person thought of him. But it was the leaning that got me. The way he never sat down, and when he became tired, he’d lean his hips against a wall or a tall counter, then stack his foot one on top of the other.

He also had this nervous habit, just like my husband had. He’d touch his fingertips together in a rhythmic pattern that only he saw in his head.

But what held me back from truly believing that it was my husband was his lack of stuttering.

My husband, Tunnel, had a stutter. He also had a compulsion where he pronounced the ‘Y’ in a word two times before he said the actual word.

Still, I continued to hold out hope. Maybe the stuttering was hidden away. Maybe the stuttering wasn’t a problem any longer.

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