Chapter Five

A knock on the apartment door woke Francine from her dreams of civil war battles. She forced her sleep filled eyes open and ground her fists into them in an attempt to clear them out. The knock sounded again and she looked at the clock on the wall. It was eight in the morning. Francine jumped to her feet, only then noticing the blanket she had been covered with.

Her eyes scanned the room and looked into the kitchen for any sign of Wyatt but he wasn't here and Janice's shoes were not by the door so clearly she had stayed somewhere else last night. It wasn't unusual for Janice to stay away when she went out so Francine wasn't concerned. She was however a little freaked out to realize that she had fallen asleep while a ghost had been sitting on her couch and that said ghost had proceeded to cover her with a blanket and close down her computer before leaving.

The knock sounded again and Francine rolled her eyes, "I'm coming," she grumbled. She was not a morning person.

She shuffled across the hardwood floor and jerked open the door to find Wyatt standing there with a smile on his face and a Starbucks cup in his hand. Without hesitation Francine reached out and took the cup, savoring the hot liquid as she sipped and let it wash over her tongue.

Wyatt chuckled, "I take it you're not a morning person, ma'am?"

"No I'm not." She stepped aside to let him enter. "And stop calling me ma'am."

"Okay. I figured you would be tired after working so late last night and coffee always used to help me, ma'am," he replied and then he laughed at the annoyed expression on her sleep lined face. Her hair had come loose from the tie she'd had it held back with and it was a mess of curls around her head. "I can't help it. I was raised to call a lady ma'am."

"I guess us women just aren't used to gentlemen anymore," Francine said wistfully as she shut the door and then took another sip of her coffee.

"Maybe men are less of gentlemen now because women are less ladylike than they used to be." He saw her eyes narrow and rushed to explain. "What I mean is that back when I was alive women were softer. They needed men to take care of them. Give them a house, provide for them, make sure there was money for food, clothes and whatever else they wanted. Nowadays women make their own money, they have their own houses, according to you they can even have babies on their own. Kinda takes some of the usefulness right out of a man's sails."

Francine walked over to the couch and sat down and he sat on the other end, "So male pride is what has men acting like jerks nowadays?" she asked with the raise of a small, arched brow.

Wyatt shook his head, "No, a man should always be a gentleman and his pride be damned."

Francine took another sip of her coffee and looked away from him. He was too handsome and kind for his own good, or for her own good for that matter. He was dead after all. She needed to help him find peace and have his soul move on.

"Thank you for the coffee." she said and then she frowned. "But how did you pay for it?"

Wyatt grinned sheepishly and scratched at the back of his neck, where his wool collar always rubbed against him, "I didn't exactly." He shrugged at the judgmental look she threw him. "How exactly am I supposed to pay for things?" he demanded. "It's not like very many employers are rushing to hire a one hundred and seventy-three year old dead man."

Francine had to smile and then she stood up, "I'll be right back," she said. "I need to get ready for work, get the finishing touches on this article and then get gone."

Wyatt nodded and watched her walk away before he stood and walked into the kitchen. He knew that Francine needed breakfast and from the way she talked that had been the last thing on her mind. He knew from the employee lounge at the park that the large humming white rectangle in the corner was called a refrigerator and it kept things cold. He opened the door and scanned with his eyes until he found the eggs, milk and cheese he was looking for. He might not eat now but he used to and since he'd been so much older than all his sisters he had often helped his mama with the cooking to take some of the workload off of her.

He had never used an electric stove before but the knobs were easy enough to figure out and soon he had the eggs cracked and the milk and cheese all mixed in. He found a whisk and used it to stir the eggs while they scrambled.

Wyatt heard the front door open and close and glanced around the corner to see the blond, Janice, walking in the house. She had clearly spent the night out and Wyatt again suspected that she was more than just a waitress. What kind of proper woman wore such revealing clothes and stayed out all night? Her black dress showed off the ample curves of her chest and backside. Her stomach was flat and her hips were delicately curved. Wyatt had once preferred women like Janice but now.... Now didn't matter.

Now he was dead. He was a ghost who could only be seen and heard by one person and he was going to make sure that he did whatever he could to help out the woman who had made him feel alive again. He went back to cooking and then he heard a gasp from the living room entrance to the kitchen. He was scooping the eggs onto a plate and turned to see Janice standing slack jawed in the doorway, gripping the door frame tight in her hands.

"Francine!" she exclaimed. "Why are there floating dishes and self scrambling eggs in the kitchen?"

Wyatt laughed lightly and made his way to the cupboard. He pulled out a glass and filled it with milk before grabbing an orange and slicing it with his knife from his belt.

"Okay and now there is self pouring milk, floating cups, and oranges that cut themselves!" Janice added, her voice rising a bit higher.

"It's just Wyatt and I'm coming," Francine called.

Wyatt was just sitting everything on the table when Francine walked in. His eyes widened at the sight of her in her black pencil skirt and red blouse. The neckline was low cut and ruffled and the sleeves were wide at top and tight around her elbows where they stopped. Her body was long, willowy and delicate. She had her hair pulled back tight and secured in a bun on the back of her head with a pencil. She had light makeup around her eyes and gloss on her full lips. Wyatt nearly tripped over his boots as he moved to pull her chair out.

"You made me breakfast?" she asked.

He nodded, "I thought you might be hungry."

"Why is the civil war ghost here and cooking you breakfast?" Janice asked as she sat her purse down on the counter.

Francine shrugged as she sat down and Wyatt pushed her chair back in, "He followed me home." she replied simply.

Francine looked down at the breakfast Wyatt had prepared for her and oddly enough she felt a tear in the corner of her eye that she quickly blinked away.

Francine had always been a very independent person. As a child her parents had both worked full time and Francine had fed herself and gotten herself to and from school. She had tucked herself in at night and then moved out as soon as she had graduated high school. She'd lived alone for about a year before Janice had moved in with her to split the rent.

Having someone to care for her was something very new. To have someone to cover her with a blanket after she had fallen asleep and then bring her coffee because he knew she'd been up all night and would be tired, someone who cooked her breakfast because he knew she had no time to cook it herself was something she had never had.

Francine tried to think of a single time that Gregory had gone out of his way to help her in the last year they'd been together but nothing jumped out at her. Then she shook her head and told herself that comparing Wyatt to Gregory was both unfair and foolish. Wyatt was not a real man, he was a ghost and Gregory was her boyfriend.

"Thank you Wyatt," Francine said and she saw the anticipation on his face as she stuff the first fork full of eggs into her mouth. "This is delicious," she moaned.

"Where's mine?" Janice asked as she walked toward the table. Being raised the way he had, had Wyatt racing to her side of the table and pulling out her chair.

"I will cook more," he said, though he knew that only Francine could hear him.

Francine shook her head, "Janice already ate, she's just giving you a hard time. She always makes her friends feed her before she comes home."

Janice snorted, "Hey just because you're boring and have a boring boyfriend doesn't mean the rest of us young, single ladies can't have a little fun."

Wyatt was waiting on the water coming from the sink to get hot so he could wash the dishes and he felt himself tense at Janice's words.

"Gregory isn't boring, he just works a lot," Francine argued.

Janice yawned into her hand and Francine slapped her arm, "You might as well be honest with me! I'm your best friend!" Janice exclaimed as she stole a slice of Francine's orange.

Wyatt grabbed another orange off the counter and peeled and sliced it before setting it on a plate and plopping it down in front of Janice. He might as well make nice with the woman who was going to tell him all about Gregory just as soon as Francine left for work.

"Gregory is...." Francine started and then she looked at Wyatt who was busy washing up the breakfast dishes. She bit her lip and wondered why she was worrying about hurting his feelings. "I don't have time for this right now. I have to go. I'll finish up the article when I get to work."

She stood quickly and picked up her dishes. Wyatt sidestepped her quickly to avoid bodily contact as she put the dishes in the sink, "Thank you for breakfast, Wyatt and for the coffee."

"It was my pleasure, ma'am," he replied. "What time will you be home?"

"Around five or six I guess. Maybe a little later. Will you be okay here alone?"

"He's not alone," Janice said around a mouthful of orange slice. "He has me to keep him company, don't ya, army man."

"Exactly," Wyatt agreed with a nod. "You don't mind that I'm here do you? I hope you understand that I just want to be around someone who can see me......"

"I understand, Wyatt, and I promise to try to help you find a way to move on to the other side."

Wyatt frowned. Now that he'd met Francine he wasn't sure he wanted to move on to the other side, "Be careful at work, ma'am. Good luck with your article."

"Thank you," she replied. "And quit calling me ma'am, call me Francine."

"That's too big a name for a tiny thing like you." he countered with a grin and she shook her head.

"Well think of something other than ma'am and you can tell me tonight."

"It is really strange to hear you having a conversation with yourself," Janice noted with a tilt of her head.

Francine rolled her eyes and walked into the living room. She slipped her computer and files into a black leather satchel and put it over her shoulder. She slid her feet into her favorite black flats (heels were her least favorite thing in the world and it would be a cold day in hell before she wore them) and opened the apartment door.

"Shit, my keys." she said, realizing she'd have to walk back across the living room to grab them and that was going to waste valuable minutes she didn't have. Wyatt saw them on the table and grabbed them. He tossed them through the air and she caught them with a smile.

"I might get used to having you around, soldier boy," Wyatt laughed and she walked out and shut the door behind her.

"Alright, Casper, I'm going to go take a shower. I'm not sure if you're still here or where you are but I'm trusting that you will keep your ghost eyes to yourself," Janice warned as she looked all around the living room. Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Would you pick something up or move something if you're here so that I know where you're at?" she added.

Wyatt looked around and saw a pen lying on the table beside the couch. He picked it up and Janice smiled, "Thanks, Casper. I'll be back in a jiff. Go ahead and finish up those dishes if you want to."

Wyatt dropped the pen back on the table and walked into the kitchen and began cleaning the rest of the dishes. He could hear Janice in the shower and he thought about how he was going to communicate with her. He wanted to learn all he could about this Gregory-- Not that the man or Francine's relationship with him was any of his business, but he didn't want Francine to be with someone who would hurt her and since Janice didn't seem to like him maybe there was something wrong with Gregory.

Wyatt finished up the dishes though drying his hands wasn't necessary since they weren't wet. It was strange that he could stick his hands in water, stay dry and feel nothing. He walked back into the living room and saw the pen lying on the table with a stack of paper beside it. Writing had never been Wyatt's strong point but that might be the only way to communicate with Janice. He sat down on the couch and picked up the pen.

When Janice came back into the living room she gasped at the piece of paper floating in the air. She grabbed her chest and then took a deep breath as she reminded herself that there was a dead man living here with them now. That could take some getting used to. The paper shook in the air and Janice walked over. She grabbed it, feeling a cold chill pass through her and wondered if she had just touched the ghost.

Wyatt jerked his hand back quickly once she had the paper. Nothing better to remind a man that he was dead than having another human being pass right through him.

Janice sat down on the couch with the paper and Wyatt sat beside her. She looked down at the messy writing on the paper.

I no you all reddy no my name but I want to tell you myself. I am Wyatt Montgomery.

Janice smiled and looked at where she hoped Wyatt was, "Your spelling leaves something to be desired but it's nice to meet you, Wyatt Montgomery. My name is Janice Martin."

Wyatt chuckled. Janice was currently looking the opposite direction of where he was sitting. He reached out and tugged on the paper and Janice squeaked with surprise and released it.

She watched in amazement as the pen moved across the paper and words appeared,

Nice to meat you maam. I got to the 3 grade of skool and had to stop cuz my famly needed help with mony.

Janice bit her lip and felt a little guilty for teasing him. She looked over at where she guessed his face was, "Well, Casper, are you going to be living here now?" she asked.

Next door in a empty spot. Fra.. Fran.... Franny is the first person who can see me or heer me.

Janice nearly laughed out loud at his scratched out attempts at spelling Francine's name. "Franny?"

Cant spell.

"Franny suits her," Janice assured him with a laugh. She'd just about bet that Francine would smack her ghost friend for calling her Franny.

How long you and Franny ben frends?

"Since high school so about twelve years now."

She is a gud person.

Janice nodded, "The best person I know."

Who is that fella you were tawking about

"Gregory?"

Yes.

Janice wondered why he was asking. Was it possible that Casper had a crush on Francine? Oh dear. What had her friend gotten herself into this time? "Gregory is a prick and he is also Francine's boyfriend. Though their relationship hardly qualifies as a relationship since he only comes around about once or twice a month. He brings her some kind of fancy gift, takes her out to dinner, and then satisfies his urges before taking off again for 'business'."

Wyatt fell anger and jealousy fill him. How dare some man not treat Francine like an angel! If she were his woman, she would always know how much he cared about her. There would never be a day that she would come second.... But she wasn't his, would never be his, could never be his and he'd do well to remember that.

She shud have a gud man.

"I agree. Gregory won't talk to her about her job because he considers it to be foolish and he won't allow her to meet his family because he considers her to be below them. He also doesn't want to meet her family because he is too high class for regular people like them."

Wyatt decided right then that he didn't like Gregory. He would have to see what he could do to make sure Francine left the jerk. She deserved someone who would treat her so much better than that.

Asshole

"You spelled that one right," Janice said with a smile and then she yawned. "Well Casper I'm going to be getting to bed. I have to work the late shift at the restaurant tonight. Is there anything else you were wanting to know?"

Yes

"Out with it then ghost boy."

What is a Casper?