Chapter Ten

"Shopping therapy, it does wonders for a woman!" Janice sighed as she tossed her bags in the back of the car.

Wyatt smiled. He'd just spent the last hour and a half watching Francine model for him and he would have to say that shopping therapy worked wonders for a man as well, or ghost..spirit..whatever the hell he was. He had definitely liked it and seeing her smiling, happy and seemingly carefree had been a plus as well.

"I have to get home. I have a date tonight," Janice informed them, glancing at the time on her phone.

"What is a date?" Wyatt asked as he stretched his arms over his head. Francine stared at him and then shook her head. He had on wool pants, wool jacket, she knew he wore a white button down long sleeve shirt beneath the jacket, thick socks, leather boots, a strap and musket over his back. He wore a revolver on his hip along with a long buck knife that looked suited for stabbing an elephant. There was a small pack that hung from a strap across his chest and a large canteen hung from the pack. There was also a sheath which she assumed held his bayonet that hung from his belt.

"Aren't you hot, Wyatt?" she asked as she looked up at the blazing August sun.

Wyatt shook his head, "Nope. I haven't felt things like hot and cold since the day I died," he replied with a shrug.

"Why do you still carry all of that stuff?" she asked as she indicated his weapons and bag.

Wyatt looked down at them and his uniform and frowned, "I've tried to put on different outfits but I have to focus all day on making sure they don't just pass right through me and whenever I finally go to sleep and wake up my uniform and all my belongings are right back on me no matter where I left them. Eventually I just got tired of taking them off every day."

"Earth to Francine and Casper...." Janice said with a grin as she slipped on her giant sunglasses and laid her arms on the hood of the car. "You do realize you look crazy when you stand there looking and talking to someone that no one else can see don't you?" Janice teased.

Francine shrugged, "I don't care," she replied honestly.

Janice laughed lightly, "She really doesn't care, Casper. That's the thing about Francine. She always just kind of does her own thing," she said. "Now me, I have to get home and get ready for my date."

"What's a date?" Wyatt asked again.

"It's when two people go out to spend time together," Francine replied.

"Did he honestly just ask what a date was?" Janice demanded incredulously.

Francine laughed out loud when Wyatt stuck his tongue out at Janice. He was a walking contradiction sometimes. He was strong, protective, temperamental and yet kind, caring, gentle and thoughtful and then at the same time he was clearly a jokester, a prankster and a child at heart.

"He just stuck his tongue out at you," Francine informed her friend. Janice tossed her blond and pink hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, "Very mature, ghost boy."

"I guess I'll just go home for the night," Francine said as she dug into her purse for her keys.

Wyatt frowned. She didn't act as if she wanted to go home and that whole date thing sounded interesting to him. It sounded like wooing which was what he was accustomed to. He'd had a few women that he had tried to woo before he'd died. There had even been one woman he'd thought about marrying but he'd been shot and killed in Vicksburg before he could get back to Kansas and ask her.

He and Francine might never have a chance at a real relationship but he could teach her the way that a man should treat her and he could get to know more about her. After all he was fairly certain that Madam Zinga had been talking about Francine being his unfinished business the night before. Maybe he was supposed to find her a man who would treat her right. He felt a sting of jealousy but pushed it back. No point getting jealous and possessive over Francine when she didn't belong to him.

"Franny, is there somewhere we could go where there's no sidewalks for a while?" Wyatt asked, shocked when he realized he sounded nervous.

"Well, yes. There's a park just outside of town with a lake and hiking paths, Why?" Francine asked as she threw her bags into the car as well. Wyatt had offered to carry both of the ladies bags since he'd been raised a gentleman but Francine had reminded him that floating bags would cause a stir.

"I'd just like to get away from all the buildings and people for a while," he replied with a shrug.

Francine nodded, "Of course you would. You've spent the last... well a long time, living somewhere open and peaceful." Francine turned to Janice, "You go ahead and take the car home. Wyatt and I will walk to the park and then we'll walk home later."

"Ooooh, going on a date with Casper," Janice teased as she grabbed the keys Francine tossed her way.

Francine snorted and rolled her eyes even as her heart did a little flutter in her chest, "Stop being stupid," she warned.

Janice just laughed and got in the car. She blew Francine a kiss out the passenger window as she fired the engine to life, "Have fun you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

As Janice drove away Wyatt came to stand beside Francine and she looked to see the confused frown on his face, "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Are you certain she's not more than just a waitress?"

***

Francine and Wyatt didn't talk much as they made their way down the crowded city streets toward the park. Wyatt had told her that he didn't want people to stare at her and think that she was crazy if they saw her talking to herself. Francine didn't really care either way what other people thought but Wyatt had seemed to be stubborn in this so she had let it go.

Francine noticed that Wyatt seemed to be working hard to keep himself from touching anyone on the sidewalks and to keep from passing through poles and other things they passed by. She wondered what it felt like to him when he passed through something.

"Can I touch you, Wyatt?" she asked as they turned a corner and the park came into view.

Wyatt looked at the large lake and the surrounding lush green hills and trees and would have smiled if not for the question she had just asked, "I'm a ghost, Franny, don't be forgetting that, and that means you can't touch me."

"I'm not supposed to be able to see you either," she reminded him. "Or talk to you, and I could wear your jacket. Maybe I can touch you."

Wyatt was silent for several long moments as he stared hard at her. She wondered what he was thinking and wished she could read his mind. She took his silence as permission and reached out a shaking hand only to have Wyatt's expression turn almost angry as he jumped out of her reach.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Francine felt tears fill her eyes at his sudden harshness and quickly turned away from him. Since when did she let people hurt her like this? She was not the type to cry, she was the type to get angry and fire back, but Wyatt's harshness was more than she could take after becoming accustomed to his caring and supportive side.

"Nothing," she said as she quickly began walking away from him and toward the edge of the lake. The park was mostly deserted today because not many people came here during the middle of hot summer days.

"Franny, stop," Wyatt called but she quickened her pace. "Franny, please stop," he pleaded and she did but she didn't turn to look at him.

"What do you want, Wyatt? You're allowed to thrust yourself into every single aspect of my life but yet I'm not allowed to do anything that might make you uncomfortable?"

"Dammit, Francine, you don't have a single clue what the hell you're talking about!" Wyatt exclaimed as he pulled off his hat and shoved his hand through his hair.

Once she overcame the shock from hearing him yell and cuss at her she realized that he looked to be in pain, "Are you hurt?" she asked as her anger faded away.

Wyatt barked out a harsh laugh and stormed around her and to the edge of the lake, "I can't get hurt, Franny," he replied. "I don't feel anything and I haven't for a very long time. I am completely dead on the outside and I was on the inside for a long time until I found you and Janice in my barracks and you spoke to me. You have given me something, Franny. Something that I never thought I would find. Being around you makes me feel like I'm alive and if you try to touch me and I feel you pass through me..." His voice trailed off and Francine crossed her arms over her chest and went to stand beside him.

"I'm sorry Wyatt. I shouldn't have tried to do that without your permission," she said softly.

Wyatt glanced down at her. She had changed out of her satin blue blouse and into a soft, black cotton t-shirt. Her curls were pulled back on her head and she wore no make-up so her freckles were very visible on her curved cheekbones.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he apologized gently.

Francine shrugged as she looked at the peaceful water, "It's okay. We both have our flaws. I'm not a morning person and you have a temper."

"Which I'll never lose like that with you again. I promise."

Francine smiled and sat down in the soft grass beneath an oak tree. Wyatt wanted to sit beside her but he was finding that being close to her caused him to want things he couldn't have. It was easier to keep some physical distance between them.

"I've told you all about my family, Franny. What about yours? Where did you grow up?" Wyatt asked as he moved closer to the lake's edge and began gathering small stones in his hand.

"My mom and dad live in southeastern Kentucky, in a tiny little town that doesn't show up on most maps. They worked a lot when I was a child and I took care of myself."

"I could have guessed that about you," Wyatt said as he began tossing the rocks out into the water. "You have that independent quality about you. I could see how surprised you were when I brought you coffee and cooked you breakfast, that told me you weren't used to people doing things for you."

"Especially men," Francine replied as she laid down and stared up at the sky.

"I think we've already covered the fact that you pick losers," Wyatt reminded her teasingly and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes well you're supposed to be finding me one that's not a loser and instead you're throwing rocks in the lake."

"I'm scouting," Wyatt lied. Francine laughed again and the two fell into easy back and forth banter and conversation. Both were stuck by how natural it felt for them to be together. Even when there were silences they were not awkward, they were comfortable, and both felt as if they had known each other forever.

These thoughts made Wyatt think about Madam Zinga and her words about the person he was supposed to find. Was Francine that person? Had she lived other lives and had one of those lives been back when he'd been alive? Before he could try to think of a way to bring up his odd encounter with Madam Zinga, Francine looked over at him where he was sitting about ten feet away on the grass.

"Can I ask you something personal?" she asked.

Wyatt grinned, "You know pretty much all there is to know about me, Franny, what else could there possibly be you'd want to know about?"

"How did you die?" she asked as she picked at the grass. She wasn't sure if you were supposed to ask a ghost that. It might be the equivalent of asking a woman her age but her dream had been on her mind all day. She simply could not shake the feeling that it had been more than just a dream. The details, the sounds, the smells had all seemed so real.

Wyatt laid on his back and crossed his arms behind his head as he looked up at all the clouds. It was starting to get late in the afternoon. He didn't know how long the walk would be back to the apartment but he knew they'd have to leave soon. He didn't really want Francine out after dark on a Saturday night in the city. He would do what he could to protect her but there were some things he'd be powerless to stop. As a living breathing man he'd been a force to be reckoned with but as a ghost he was helpless most of the time.

"I was shot, you know that already."

"Yes I know, but where?"

"Vicksburg," he replied with a frown and then he looked over at her. "Why?"

Francine took in the sight of his long, lean body sprawled in the grass and then quickly looked back out across the lake, "I know you were shot in Vicksburg, Wyatt. What I meant was where on your body were you shot?"

"Through the...." Wyatt's words were cut short when thunder rumbled.

Francine looked up to realize that storm clouds were indeed rolling in. Leave it to late summer in Kentucky for storms to pop up out of nowhere, "We better get out of here. We're going to have to grab a cab or else we'll get soaked," Francine said as she jumped to her feet.

Wyatt didn't remind her that she would be the only one that got soaked. He stood as well and then frowned as they started out of the park, "What's a cab?"

"A car you hire that takes you where you want to go."

"Like a stagecoach?"

"Yes, but more expensive and over shorter distances."

Wyatt walked with Francine and watched her hail a cab just as the rain started to sprinkle down. As the cab came to a stop Wyatt sighed and took a step back, "I'll be back after a while," he said and without offering further explanation to where he was going he turned and walked away back toward the park.

***

Francine wondered what had caused Wyatt to suddenly leave her earlier as she stepped into the shower. She never had been able to talk to him about her dream. Now that she thought about it she wasn't sure she wanted to tell him. Maybe he would think she was crazy if she told him about it.

She was still debating whether or not to be honest when she got out of the shower and a knock came on the door. She frowned, unsure of who could be knocking. It was nearly nine at night, a storm was raging outside and she didn't have any close friends in town other than Janice.

She wrapped her towel around herself and walked to the door. She looked through the peep hole and smiled when she realized it was Wyatt. She opened the door and Wyatt's eyes widened as they scanned her up and down. Francine blushed and stepped aside so he could enter the apartment.

"You don't have to knock," she assured him as she shut and locked the door.

He shrugged as he turned and she realized that he was holding something behind his back and out of her sight, "I didn't want to come in and walk in on you... um... improper." When he said improper his eyes were locked on her long, lean legs.

Francine put her hands on her hips and cleared her throat, "Eyes up here, soldier boy," she teased.

Wyatt quickly looked at her face, "Of course. I'm a... I'm just not used to..." he was shifting his feet and looking nervous enough that she feared he might shake right out of his boots at any moment.

"Why don't you tell me what you have behind your back?" she asked and he quickly held out the bouquet of wildflowers and what smelled like a fresh baked apple pie. Francine wasn't quite sure what to make of the offering. It was completely unexpected and touching. She took the flowers, careful to avoid touching him, knowing that that was something he wanted desperately to keep from happening.

She put the flowers to her nose and smiled. Wyatt felt his heart beat a little faster as her dark eyes looked at him through those long lashes over the top of the bouquet.

"Thank you," she whispered, finding that she couldn't think of anything else to say. She had never in her life been given a bouquet of wildflowers. Horribly expensive and gaudy bouquets of every other flower, yes. But never something so simple and perfect.

"You're welcome. Sorry it took me so long but it was hard to find just the right flowers, especially once it started getting dark." He held up the pie, "I knew it was probably too late for dinner so I brought you dessert." Francine smiled as she made her way to the kitchen with him behind her. She found a cup to use as a vase and filled it with water before putting the flowers inside and setting it in the center of the tiny table.

"Set the pie on the table," Francine said. "I'll be right back." She left the kitchen and walked back to her room where she threw on an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of red and black flannel pants. She walked back into the kitchen and over to the drawer beside the sink. She dug around in the drawer for a fork.

"I won't ask about the little old lady you stole this from," she said with a smile as she sat down and stuck her fork deep inside the delicious smelling, moist pie.

"She was actually a he and he had a whole bakery full. I figured he wouldn't miss one," Wyatt replied as he grabbed a cup from the cabinet. He got the milk from the refrigerator and filled it before setting it on the table in front of her. Francine took a bite of the pie and thought for sure she was in heaven. The taste was familiar.

"Did you steal this from Grandilini's Bakery?" she asked before shoving another bite into her mouth.

Wyatt grinned as he sat down across from her, "You said you weren't going to ask," he reminded her.

She shrugged as she took a drink, "I guess it doesn't really matter where you got it.... All that matters is that this thing is delicious."

"I'm glad you like it," Wyatt replied. He wasn't sure what made him bring her flowers and the pie. All he knew was that he was falling hard for her. Hell he might even be in love with the woman and he wanted to show her how well a woman as amazing as her deserved to be treated. Only problem was that if some other man showed up with flowers and a pie he'd end up wearing them when he left if Wyatt had anything to say about it.

They were enjoying small talk while Francine ate her pie when the front door was thrown open and slammed shut. The sound of shoes bouncing off the wall was the next thing they heard and Wyatt frowned.

"Is that you Janice?" Francine called out.

"Yes, it's me," Janice replied, she sounded tired and a little scared. Wyatt and Francine immediately jumped to their feet and walked into the living room. Both of them gasped when they saw her. She was soaking wet, her dress was tore a little and her mascara was running down her face. There was a small bruise forming on her cheek.

"What the hell happened to her?!" Wyatt demanded.

Francine walked to Janice and wrapped her in a hug, "What happened?"

"My date, big winner that he was, left me to find my own way home. I couldn't find a cab and so I was walking home. A man decided that he wanted to get to know me and when I said I wasn't interested he tried to drag me to an alley."

"Oh my God! We have to call the police," Francine exclaimed.

Janice shook her head, "There's no point. He's long gone," she replied as she stood there shaking. "The only good thing is that he won't be reproducing any time soon and he can now sing soprano in his church choir."

"Should I go look for him?" Wyatt asked.

"Wyatt wants to go look for him. Where did you run into him at?"

"Casper's here?" Janice asked looking around and Wyatt picked up the couch pillow so she would know where he was. "Don't worry about him, Wyatt, I took care of him," she promised with a ghost of a smile.

"Let's go get some dry clothes on," Francine said softly as she wrapped her arm around Janice's trembling shoulders. "I'll be back out in a while. Please stay," she added to Wyatt. Wyatt nodded. He had no intention of leaving.

Francine helped Janice brush out her hair and slip into a long blue t-shirt that hung to her knees, "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked as she saw the bruises forming on Janice's upper arms.

Janice nodded, "I'll be fine. How did your day go with Casper?"

"Good..."

Janice noticed her frown, "What's wrong?" she asked.

Francine shook her head. She wasn't about to burden her best friend with her uneasiness over her dreams and the fact that she was falling in love with a ghost. Not tonight after Janice had just been attacked, "Nothing. Don't be worrying about me right now. Are you wanting to go to sleep or...."

"No, I'm not tired." Janice replied quickly as a haunted look came over her eyes.

Francine nodded, "Let's go watch some TV then." she said and the girls walked out to the living room. As they sat down and Francine turned on the television, Wyatt came out of the kitchen with the pie, two forks and two beers. He sat all of this on the table in front of them.

Janice turned to Francine with wide eyes, "Francine?"

Francine smiled, "What?"

"I like your ghost. Can we keep him?"

***

A few hours later, Janice fell sound asleep on the couch. Francine stood and turned off the television before yawning and stretching her arms over her head.

"I'll just let her sleep out here," she said to Wyatt and he nodded and draped a blanket over Janice's sleeping form.

"You must have been a good brother," Francine whispered as they walked into the kitchen.

"Not really. I was usually too worried about things I shouldn't have been worried about to spend much time with them. If I had known then what was going to happen to me I probably would have taken more time."

"Hindsight's always twenty-twenty," Francine replied with a sad shrug. "But it doesn't really help much."

"No it doesn't," Wyatt agreed. He could tell she was tired, "I'll be leaving and let you get to sleep," he said gently.

"I'm not tired," she promised but she was proven a liar as a huge yawn overtook her and caused Wyatt to chuckle.

"No, not a bit," he agreed.

"Be nice," she warned.

"Always," he replied. "Oh yeah, to answer your question that you asked me at the park; I was shot through here," he lifted his arm and laid his hand high on his rib cage. "It went into my heart."

Francine felt as if the floor had just disappeared from beneath her feet. She swayed and caught herself on the table.

Wyatt saw all the color drain from her face and he was scared for her, "Are you okay?" he demanded quietly.

She shook her head, "Wyatt, I had a dream...." she began and then she looked up at his face, her brown eyes wide with fear, "Please let me try to touch you."

"No," he replied quickly.

"Please?"

He looked over her head and caught sight of the calendar on the refrigerator, "No," he growled angrily, "I have to go!" He quickly turned and walked through the wall and out of sight.

Francine sank down in the kitchen chair. She hadn't meant to make him that angry. Should she go to his apartment and talk to him or give him time to cool off?

She decided letting him cool off was the better option. He had a bad temper and chances were he'd show up with coffee in the morning and all would be forgiven. Then she'd be able to tell him about her dream. Or should she? Because in her dream she had walked away from him assuming he was already dead, only to have him take a breath once she was gone....

She shook her head. The dream wasn't real, it was just a dream. It had to be a coincidence that he had been shot in the same place. She went to the living room and grabbed the empty beer bottles and the remaining pie. She put the pie in the refrigerator and threw the bottles in the trash before making her way to her bedroom.