Silas agreed with him. And he’d prefer the dancer to focus her attention on the gentleman from the city.
Ruby released a sigh. “She’s not seeing Alex yet, she’s still deciding whether to restart her relationship with him. She’s attracted to Dane and wants to explore that, too.” Ruby looked at Silas, then turned her gaze to The Reverend. “Women have the freedom and autonomy to do that now.”
He didn’t hold with any of that nonsense. A woman should be guided by her husband or father, or another man of good character. Men were clever, rational, courageous, and sensible, while women were more tender, physically frail, and prone to emotional outbursts and instability. Of course, men should make decisions on behalf of the weaker sex, it simply madesense.
“And Dr. Trafford agreed to this?” Silas asked.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Ruby asked. “He wants to spend as much time as he can with Wren. How can he get her where he wants her without being around her?”
Silas frowned, utterly bewildered. “But where does he want her?” he asked.
“Oh my God,” Ruby muttered.
He’d blundered. He could see it in Ruby’s extravagant eye roll and Lila’s amused expression. Yet he could not, for the life of him, determine how. The glance Miss Ruby exchanged with Miss Lila—he is entirely at sea—confirmed his suspicion that no explanation would be offered.
Very well. He required none. He was very used to being baffled by this century’s quickly shifting perceptions and rules and lax attitude to morality.
Silas, back straight and legs stretched out, unable to relax, cleared his throat. Lila looked at him and smiled. “Aren’t humans peculiar creatures? Here they are, bobbing on the lake in a bunch of air-filled tubes, all so that they can scare themselves silly.” She sighed.
“Why do they spend so much time trying to understand the afterlife, while paying little attention to the life they are actually living? If I could go back, I would do things differently.”
That was a philosophical question for another day. Silas had another question. He gestured to the massive screen on the bank. “Please be so kind as to explain this to me?” he asked. He made a point of avoiding the social gatherings of humans, but when he heard the doctor and the dancer would be present, he loftily agreed to join the others on the water.
Miss Lila obliged. “A moving picture’s gonna show up on that screen and tell a story. This one even talks. You’ll hear the actors yakking away.”
“And it’s about ghosts?” Silas asked.
“It’s about a writer and his family staying at a hotel, and their holiday is disrupted by an evil presence,” Lila replied, leaning back. “It sounds like ripping fun.”
“I saw it when I was alive,” Ruby told them. “And I didn’t sleep for a week. I spent most of the next week on my knees, and I’m not the religious type.”
“Scaredy cat,” Lila taunted her, trying to flick water at her face. Nothing happened, the water went straight through her hand, and she pouted.
“Sometimes being dead isn’t any fun at all,” she muttered.
Silas nodded to the dancer and the doctor, who were walking down the bank. “I see that they have finally arrived. They are late.” To Silas, tardiness was a sin.
The humans reached the bank, and each grabbed a float. “Separate floats?” Lila wailed. “Spoilsports.”
“I think that is entirely appropriate,” Silas stated.
“Pfft,” Ruby scoffed. “I expected better from him, he should’ve gotten a boat built for two. That way, they could talk, they could cuddle. He could make her forget about her old friend and dance partner.”
It was obvious the women were firmly aligned with Dr. Trafford. “Exactly!” Lila agreed. “How am I supposed to live vicariously through them if he doesn’t do any proper courting?”
He understood women not at all, Silas decided.
He watched Dane and Wren paddle over, aiming for the back of the already large crowd. Dane’s foot brushed Lila’s float and sent her spinning halfway across the lake.
“Really?” she whined. “How am I supposed to get back?”
Silas sighed, slipped out of his float, ghosted across the water, and nudged Lila back behind the doctor and the dancer. But neither the dancer nor Dr. Tragic noticed the empty inflatables drifting toward them with slow, steady purpose.
Then Lila grinned wickedly, and Silas’s heart sank. “Maybe this is a good time to create a little havoc,” she said.
Oh, good Lord, he could see himself having to face the Bureau of Post-Mortal Conduct for only the second time in one-hundred and sixty-plus years.
* * *
