Ghost Not Forgotten

XIV: Now

*banner by Jwriterohplease (Livejournal)

When I opened my door that night, I was only half-surprised to see Bennet there. Something told me the storm would bring him.

"Can I come in?" he said, drenched as a sailor. There was nothing but darkness behind him, rumbling with thunder. Sheets of rain slapped on the broken sidewalk and the roof, making as much noise as it possibly could.

I let him in without a word or thought.

"Look, I know this is a lot to ask, but I was wonderin' if I could stay the night – hear me out –" he put his hands up, not letting me speak. "You know how the motel is, the cockroaches are bigger'n me, it stinks like hell, nobody's around, the door doesn't stay on its hinges, the roof's leakin' like a sieve, and I–"

"Can't come up with a better excuse to talk to me?" I said.

He dropped his hands and lowered his head with a small and defeated grin. "You guessed it. Though the motel really is bad."

"Oh I know. It just took you a week to get tired of it?" I raised a brow.

"Well, actually, I've been sleepin' out in Shellman's field the last couple'a nights, so I didn't notice it until it rained and I had to stay in."

"Shellman's huh?" I whispered.

He paused, his smile deepening. "Yeah. Brings back good memories."

I hummed. "Well, you can't stay all night but you can stay 'til the storm clears up."

"It'll still be soggy in the field though. Where will I sleep?" He put on his charming grin.

"The barn?" I shot back. "Anybody else's house? You know they all have their guest rooms and couches made and waiting for you."

He stuck his bottom lip out.

I sighed. "You're askin' a lot of me, Malene."

His grin went crooked. "And you know I love bein' a pain in your ass."

I nodded. It was too true. "Don't start up the cocky asshole act again, please. I've had enough of that. And, well, I guess the basement is still livable."

"The basement!" He beamed. "My old room – and this place!" He stepped past me, looking around the place like a kid in a candy shop would. "Jeez, Natty, did you change anythin'?"

"New coffee table." I pointed.

He looked at it and nodded. "Okay, but everythin' else is exactly the same."

"I like to call it the Podger Family Museum."

He laughed, still amazed, all the while a puddle formed around his feet.

"Oh, I guess I should find you somethin' dry to put on." I turned for the hallway.

"No you don't," he said, walking up to the bookcase and studying my mama's tacky dog figurine collection. "I brought a bag with me with some clothes in it – my God, you kept these things? You hated them."

"I know, but it wouldn't be a proper museum without everythin' Mama Podger loved out on display," I said, not hiding the dryness in my voice. "And you brought a bag? You were pretty sure I'd let you stay, huh?"

"You may be a hard-ass Natty, but if there's anythin' you can't resist it's takin' care of someone, no matter who they are or what kind of pickle they're in," he said, looking at the pictures on the wall. It was almost as if he wasn't even paying attention to what he was saying. "Unreal. It's like a time warp."