Zelda spoke for a good two minutes, constantly calling my father, before the others started to get antsy in their pantsies.
Traylor kept looking over at Luis. Luis rolled his eyes. Lemon’s stomach growled, and she complained that she needed more pickles. Tex kept mumbling about my dad owing me money until I finally blurted out, “He doesn’t owe me money, and I can’t wait until your dead wife haunts you until you’re toothless.”
That shut him up.
Beside me, Roan half chuckled/half coughed into his fist.
Zelda flattened her hands on the table. “Blissful, I’m sorry, but I don’t believe he’s going to appear to us tonight. I wish I could say otherwise, but usually if a spirit is going to show, they would have done so by now.”
Disappointment flooded me. I had been within inches of seeing my dad. I felt like I’d let down myself. I knew that it was stupid to have such a thought, but I couldn’t help it.
Then my thinking changed—was my father avoiding me? Maybe he figured that Lucky came to me about the theft. Maybe Dad was hiding out. Or worse, what if he couldn’t appear? What if another spirit was keeping him from showing himself?
That thought enraged me. My anger flared bright and hot. My energy drained even more, and I slumped farther onto Roan’s shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine,” I said with a wobbly smile. “I just need to get out of here.”
“Well,” Zelda said, “we tried, Blissful. I’m so sorry that he didn’t appear.”
I nodded. “Me too.”
“Lemon, would you get the lights?” her mother asked.
As Lemon rose, a voice broke through the room.
“Hello, Blissful.”
Zelda spoke to Lemon. “Stay where you are.”
The hairs on the back of my head soldiered to attention. Standing in the corner of the room, his outline a little fuzzy but one that I recognized, stood my father, Vince Breneaux.
“Dad?” I said weakly.
My father took a step forward, into the light. My eyes filled with tears when he said, “What can I do for you?”
Chapter 7
Dad looked exactly the same in death as he had in life. His salt-and-pepper hair was trimmed short above his ears and parted to one side. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt as if it were Friday casual day in the office. His gold watch glinted on his wrist, reflecting off the candlelight.
Yes, I realize he was a ghost and that was virtually impossible, but it still glinted.
My throat dried to a desert. “Dad?” I whispered, as if I didn’t have any other words in my vocabulary.
He smiled. “I’ve missed you.”
“Dad, I…”
Now that he was here, everything that I wanted to say alluded me. It simply vanished, gone without a trace.
He reached over the table and caressed my cheek with a ghostly hand. “Blissful.” His gaze darted to Roan. “And this is your fiancé?”
“Yes!” I blinked. It was all coming back to me. “Dad, I… There’s so much to say. You helped me in more ways than you know. I wouldn’t be who I am without your influence. I love and miss you.”
“I’m always here.” His eyes sparkled. “You make me proud every day.”
My mind was mush. How was I supposed to ask my father about Lucky’s soul here? But what if I never had another opportunity to see him? What if this was it?
