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Some dark shadow appeared to have passed behind her, near the door to the kitchen.She spun around, but saw nothing. The fright she had felt came back as sharp and consuming as it had been earlier. She shivered and wanted to run from the room, from the house that suddenly, did not feel to be the safe haven it used to be."Jim, if you're fucking about. Stop it!" Rachel did not believe in an afterlife and did not expect that she would get an answer, but it felt good to stamp her authority, even if it was on someone departed. She had to be in control of her environment and was not going to be frightened out of the house. It was hers, her property. Nothing happened except that she felt better in having said it and perhaps, stamped her authority.She dreamed that night, reliving some of the best times with Jim. Remembering sunny days in the country, walking for miles and miles, aimlessly and then finding a secluded place. Their love making, slow and sensuous, always culminated in a climactic. At least things appeared calmer between the two of them than I'd spied ... noticing earlier. The moment the sliding glass door opened, they fell silent, though still looking directly at one another, and not at me even as I approached. In silence, I poured each one of us a drink, and then offered them both a smoke. Joy declined, but Cynthia accepted one as I held the lighter for her. She took a deep drag on the cigarette, coughed, and took another."Ten years," she said dragging on it again, taking a sip of her Scotch and then crushing the smoke out on the tabletop leaving it there in an act of defiance perhaps. I lit my own, walked over to the railing leaning against it and just stood there."I'm going to bed," Joy announced draining her drink in one gulp, setting the glass down on the table. She turned without saying anything further, nor looking at me as she ascended the stairs. I followed her with my eyes, just as Cynthia did until she'd disappeared inside the house. Only then did.
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