Chapter Six

Francine unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment at a few minutes after six that night. She was tired, her article had done well but her boss, Percy Henderson, had informed everyone that the company bigwigs were making cut backs and her job was one of the positions in jeopardy.

Francine didn't know what she would do if she lost her job. Though Janice helped with the rent most of the other bills fell on Francine since her job was higher paying. She had been working for the paper for four years and it was the best job she could possibly hope to have. She loved her job.

She tossed her bag onto the couch and kicked off her shoes roughly, enjoying watching them fly across the room and bounce off the wall.

Wyatt walked out of the kitchen just in time to see her pull the pencil and tie from her hair and all her curls sprang loose as she sighed, closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.

"Rough day?" he asked softly.

Francine's eyes flew open and she covered her pounding heart with her hand, "You scared me!" she exclaimed. She had thought she was alone since she knew that Janice had already left for her shift.

Wyatt smiled, "I'm sorry, Franny."

Francine laughed and raised her brow at him, "Franny?"

"You said not to call you ma'am anymore and I don't think Francine suits you so I'm going to call you Franny."

"You can't just change my name because you don't like it, Wyatt." Francine took a deep breath and smelled garlic.

"I cooked dinner for you," Wyatt told her.

Francine didn't know what to say. This man was taking care of her better than even her own parents had. Why couldn't he be real? He was perfect except for the minor detail of being dead.

"In that case you can call me whatever you want," Francine joked.

Wyatt smiled and led her into the kitchen where he had a plate of spaghetti waiting on her. He pulled her chair out and she sat down, "You didn't have to do this for me," Francine assured him.

Wyatt just shrugged as he got a beer from the refrigerator and sat it on the table in front of her, "I didn't have anything else to do," he replied. "I found a book with recipes in it and there was one for spaghetti. Thankfully you had everything here to make the sauce because I'm sure floating tomatoes at the market would have caused a commotion."

"You made homemade sauce? I had cans...."

"My knife was too dull to cut them open," he replied with a shrug.

"You use a can opener," Francine informed him.

"A what?" Wyatt asked with a frown.

Francine shook her head, "Never mind."

Wyatt shrugged and sat down in the chair across from her, "How did the article go over?" he asked as Francine took a bite of the spaghetti and quickly chewed and swallowed to make room for another bite. It was easily the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

"The article went good. My boss still wants a few more things done with it but for a rough draft it was okay," she replied and then she pointed down at her plate with her fork, "This is delicious, Wyatt. You could be the next Emeril. Where did you learn to cook?"

"I'm glad you like it but I don't know who or what an Emeril is," Wyatt replied as he watched her eat.

She shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare and he quickly looked down at his hands. He had gotten so used to being able to stare all he wanted and not be seen that it would take a while to get used to the fact that Francine could see him when he looked at her. "I used to help my mama with the cooking back home in Kansas. I had four little sisters that were all a lot younger than me so I'd help mama to take some load off of her."

"Do you have any flaws?" Francine asked and then she blushed at her own question and looked down at her plate.

Wyatt longed to reach out and smooth those curly strands from her face. He wanted to run his scarred knuckle across her cheek. He wanted to wipe that bit of spaghetti sauce from her lip with his thumb... or better yet, kiss it away with his lips. He suddenly felt a loneliness deeper than any he had ever felt before.

"Yes," he replied to her question, "I'm dead."

Francine looked up just in time to see Wyatt disappear, "Wyatt?" she called out but she got no response. Where did he go and why did he leave? "Wyatt?" she called out again.
She heard a loud thud in the empty apartment next door, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. Francine jumped to her feet and ran barefoot out into the hallway. She went to the apartment door on the left of her apartment and tried to turn the knob but it was locked. She prayed none of her neighbors would come by and see her knocking on a door to an apartment that had been empty for years and then knocked several times.

"Wyatt?" she whispered through the empty door. "If you're in there please let me in."

She waited several long moments and then finally the lock on the door clicked and the door opened. Wyatt was standing there. His hat was gone, his hair was disheveled. The sling that held his musket on his back was off and his jacket was unbuttoned to reveal the thin white cotton shirt that he wore beneath it. The shirt was unbuttoned to just above his stomach revealing the tan skin and hard lines of his chest. She tore her eyes away from that sight and looked up at his face and what she saw made her heart ache. He looked so sad. More sad than when she was ten and had seen him in Vicksburg. His green eyes were red rimmed and his cheeks looked hollow and covered in shadows. His broad shoulders were slumped.

"What is it Franny?" he asked, his voice flat.

"What was that crashing sound?"

"Nothing," he replied.

She took a step forward and he jumped back quickly to avoid contact. Francine made her way into the empty apartment and saw instantly what the crashing had been. The lamp had been thrown against the wall and shattered.

"Why did you break the lamp?" she asked gently.

"It didn't go with the rest of the furniture," he replied as he began to button up his shirt.

"I found your flaw," Francine noted dryly.

"Other than the fact that I'm a one hundred and seventy-three year old ghost?" he asked dryly and Francine chose to ignore that comment.

"You have a temper."

"Hundreds of years of pent up aggression will do that to a person."

"Are you going to be in a bad mood the rest of the night?" Francine asked impatiently. She had no idea what had put him in this mood but she didn't like it.

"Probably," he replied as he flopped down on the couch.

"Fine, be that way," she snapped and she walked out of the apartment and slammed the door behind her.

Wyatt thought about leaving right then. He thought about going back to Vicksburg where no one could see him. Surely that would be easier than this. He was falling for Francine. Falling hard. But it could never be. He couldn't even touch the woman. The worst kind of lonely was wanting a person with everything you had yet being unable to have them.

He should leave. He stood up and finished buttoning his shirt and jacket. He was about to grab his hat when he heard the ringing of a telephone in Francine's apartment. He put his ear to the wall and listened.

"Hello?.... Hi Gregory!.... Actually I've..... Can we go...... How about...." Francine seemed to be unable to finish a single sentence before Gregory was interrupting her. "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow night. I love...." He heard her sigh sadly and set the phone back on the base. Didn't the stupid man she was with even tell her that he loved her?

Wyatt decided right then that he couldn't leave yet. He had to stay long enough to get Francine away from Gregory. She deserved better than him. It had sounded like Gregory was coming tomorrow. Wyatt smiled. He'd be ready for the idiot and by the time Wyatt was done with him, Gregory would be scared to death and running away as fast as his legs could carry him.

***

Janice zipped up the back of Francine's black dress and then flopped back down on Francine's queen sized bed, "So the darling Gregory has finally decided to grace you with his presence?"

Francine rolled her eyes as she ran her hands over her straightened hair. Gregory hated the natural tight curls of her hair and wanted her to keep it straightened around him, "He's finally back from his business trip," she replied. "He called me last night. He'll be here in a few minutes."

"Have you seen Casper today?" Janice asked, knowing that trying to talk sense to her best friend about Gregory would be a waste of time. For some reason independent, self assured Francine, turned into a mindless robot who obeyed every command as far as Gregory was concerned. It drove Janice crazy.

"No," Francine replied with a frown. "I heard him over in his apartment a couple of times this morning when I was getting ready for work and there was a cup of coffee waiting by my bed when I woke up but he's been avoiding me."

"Lovers spat?" Janice asked with a grin.

Francine laughed, "Don't be ridiculous."

Just then a knock on the door sounded and Francine gave Janice a panicked look, "Go let Gregory in please and tell him I'm coming. I have to finish my make-up."

"Why?" Janice asked. "You look beautiful already. Like a runway model."

Francine looked at her long slender frame in the mirror. She was tall and slim with almost no curves, "He likes it when I wear make-up."

"If he said he liked bald women would you shave your head?" Janice asked sarcastically as she walked to the bedroom door.

"Don't be a bitch," Francine scolded. "Go open the door."

"Yes mom."

Janice walked out to the door and curled her nose when she opened it and saw Gregory standing there. Neither of them could see Wyatt who was standing in the corner of the living room.

Wyatt wasn't impressed by Gregory. The man was in a charcoal gray suit that probably cost more than Wyatt's father had earned in his entire lifetime as a farmer. His hair was a light pale blond and slicked back on his head. He definitely had the look of money about him and he had the air of a man who knew that the world loved him because of that fact.

A sneer appeared on Gregory's soft, well groomed face as he looked Janice up and down, "Still can't afford clothes that fit?"

Janice shrugged as she looked down at her tight black t-shirt that stopped just below her breasts and showed her tight tan stomach, and her short flannel shorts, "Still buying suits that cost enough to feed an entire third world country?" she shot back.

"Where is Francine?" he asked. His voice was smooth and cultured and Wyatt hated him even more for that.

"Getting ready because you don't like her the way she is," Janice replied dryly.

Gregory rolled his eyes and pushed past her. He curled his nose and wiped off the couch cushion before sitting down. Wyatt walked over to the couch and then continued and walked right through Gregory. He hated that feeling but it was worth it to see the rich man shiver and wrap his jacket tighter around himself.

"It's cold in here," he complained.

"It feels fine to me," Janice replied with a shrug. Wyatt heard Francine coming and he quickly hid behind the kitchen wall.

"Francine you look lovely!" Gregory said as he stood from the couch. Wyatt peeked around the wall and frowned. Where were her curls? Where were her freckles? Why did she have such dark lines around her beautiful brown eyes? The dress was pretty enough and showed off her long delicate body. It was halter topped and showed off the slender lines of her shoulders. The bottom of the dress stopped just below her knees and Wyatt enjoyed the sight of her bare legs. He just wish she hadn't changed the rest of herself.

"Thank you Gregory. You look very handsome," Francine replied and Wyatt couldn't help but notice that even her voice sounded different.

He grabbed the piece of paper and pen from the kitchen table and scratched out a note for Janice. He knew she'd be coming into the kitchen just as soon as the microwave dinged.

Seconds later the microwave did just that and Wyatt held the paper up when she came into the room. She let out a little yelp and then rolled her eyes, "You have to quit scaring me, Casper," she whispered. She took the paper and read it,

Why dos she look an sound difrent?

"Because that's the way Sir Gregory prefers her and for some reason Francine listens to him."

I don't like him.

"Me neither," Janice agreed as she opened the microwave and pulled out her dinner.

I am going to get rid of him.

Janice smiled, "Please do."