Page 13 of The Most Unusual Haunting of Edgar Lovejoy

Jamie would just have time to shower off the filth and make groceries before it would be time to go to Edgar’s.

If Edgar was willing, that was. He took long enough to respond that Jamie worried he’d back out—and they couldn’t blame him.

Going on an errand wasn’t most people’s idea of a good date.

But finally, just as Jamie was finishing for the day, he replied.

Edgar : If you’ll be there, then I’d love to go.

Jamie’s heart fluttered.

***

“We’re picking up a haunted chandelier?” Edgar asked when Jamie explained, sounding horrified.

“No, no. Not haunted,” Jamie assured him. “A chandelier for the haunt. My boss needs it to be picked up now, apparently. Asshole,” they muttered.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Sorry to change our plans,” Jamie added, feeling a bit flustered now that they were face-to-face.

“It’s okay. Thanks. For giving this another shot. I—just thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Jamie opened the passenger door for Edgar. He smelled wonderful, like tea and plants and something darker. “Hi,” Jamie said for the second time.

“Hey,” Edgar rumbled, and Jamie felt the softest touch to their hair.

Jamie forced themself to leave the touch and get in the truck. They pointed it toward the I-10, and then they were on the road.

Jamie loved to drive. They felt powerful and free behind the wheel, and now that they were on the road with Edgar, picnic in a bag between them, they found they didn’t mind the trip.

“Thanks for doing this with me,” they said.

“You’re welcome,” Edgar said. “I thought…”

“What?”

“When you texted before. When I saw your name, I thought…I thought you were probably cancelling.” He sounded resigned.

“Nope,” Jamie reassured him. “I’m excited to try again.”

Please, please don’t make me regret it , Jamie added in their head.

“Me too,” Edgar said softly. “I just thought maybe…you know…”

“Yeah. People ghost,” they said.

Edgar coughed and fiddled with the air vent.

Jamie spent the first few minutes with one eye on the road and the other observing Edgar, watching for sudden movements, expressions of terror, or any of the other behaviors that had appeared on their date the week before, but when none were forthcoming, Jamie relaxed and let their gaze settle comfortably on the road.

Edgar seemed a bit tense, yes, but Edgar always seemed a bit tense.

Once they got out of the city, there were few cars on the road, and the swamp grasses that crept toward the highway rippled in the breeze. A large bird soared overhead.

“Broad-winged hawk,” Edgar murmured, pointing at it.

“Are you into birding?” Jamie asked. That was pretty adorable.

“I love birds,” Edgar said. “All animals, really. I wonder if her nest is around here.”

“Well, I’m glad this doesn’t totally suck for you,” Jamie said, relieved.

“It’s perfect. If I could drive, I’d come out into nature all the time.”

“You can’t drive? City boy,” Jamie teased.

“I can, technically, but I don’t. What about you?” Edgar asked. “Did you grow up in New Orleans?”

“No, Metairie. We came into the city a lot, but it was a really different vibe. My sister and I always used to talk about running away and living in New Orleans when we were younger though.”

They’d sit on Emma’s bedroom rug, heads swimming with all the exciting things they’d seen and done that day.

They’d plan what colors they were going to paint the intricate details of their wooden Marigny houses.

Emma had been in a purple phase and always chose lavender, but Jamie had dreamed up something different every time.

“Yeah? You and your sister close?” Edgar asked.

“No. Not anymore.”

The admission sent a pang of loss through Jamie. The pain had been sharp once, but it had dulled over time.

“How come?”

Jamie sighed. Ever since Emma had announced her engagement, the wedding had been a constant presence in Jamie’s life.

At first, they’d thought it might be fun to pick out expensive shit that someone else was paying for with Emma, but it quickly became clear that this was not going to be a sibling-bonding opportunity.

To the contrary, the family text thread had been activated, and Jamie was getting two or three texts a day that seemed to presume their familiarity with things like the distinction between nylon and silk organza but never asked how their day was going.

Jamie even tried responding off thread to Emma a couple of times: to connect over something their parents had said that was just so their parents or to tell her that they’d driven past the art museum and caught a glimpse of the gardens and thought of her.

But those texts had received nothing but likes, so Jamie had stopped and gone back to watching the texts about flowers keep rolling in.

“She’s on track to be exactly what my parents wanted us to be.

She’s going to graduate law school, clerk for a judge, and become a politician like my mother.

Which is great, if that’s what she actually wants to do.

But it’s hard to tell. My folks…there are things that are acceptable to them and things that aren’t. Emma’s choices are acceptable.”

“Let me guess,” Edgar said. “They think your choices aren’t?”

“Yup. They’d never come out and say it—far too Southern, of course.

But let’s just say that when I dropped out of college, my mother cried, and my father said I had ruined my life.

” They snorted. “As you might imagine, building haunted houses wasn’t on my parents’ list of acceptable professions for their child to have. ”

“But you love it, right?” Edgar asked.

“I really do. I guess I just wish they could be happy for me. That they could see it’s a real art. Not that they’ve ever come to any of the haunts I’ve worked on.”

They said it lightly, but it stung. Jamie knew that if they had been an architect or a speechwriter, an astronaut or a neurosurgeon, their parents would have attended every opening, promotion, and blastoff.

They would have bragged casually about them to people who didn’t care because they were so brimming over with pride that it spilled into every conversation.

They would have asked a hundred annoying questions because they wanted to be able to picture precisely how their Jamie had the world by the throat.

Jamie swallowed hard. A lizard skittered across the highway.

Warm fingers closed around Jamie’s where they rested on the gearshift.

The gesture offered sympathy and comfort, but the touch of Edgar’s skin made Jamie break out in goose bumps.

They were very glad they had decided to give this another try.

***

Jamie parked the truck on the gravel turnoff outside the address Marty had texted them. It was a post-Katrina-built cottage perched on pilings covered in flaking white paint.

The man who answered the doorbell was white, with deeply tanned skin and flyaway blond hair. “You Jamie?” he said to Edgar in a Cajun accent.

Edgar pointed at Jamie, while Jamie replied, “That’s me.”

“Marty say you don’t need wiring?”

“No, it’s not going to be lit, just used for atmosphere,” Jamie explained.

“I get it for ya.”

He left the door open but didn’t invite them inside. Jamie shrugged at Edgar.

Edgar surprised him by whispering, “I dare you to go into this guy’s house, hide in his shower, and jump out at him next time he goes in the bathroom.”

Jamie snorted. “I think if I did that, then you’d find my body in the nearest bayou wrapped in a shower curtain. So with great regret, I must forfeit the dare.”

Edgar’s eyebrows waggled in an exaggerated gesture of victory.

The man was back in a few minutes with an armful of dusty white fabric. He peeled back the corner to reveal a twist of aged brass, then thrust the whole bundle into Jamie’s arms. “Me, I’d take off. Storm’s coming.”

He closed the door before Jamie could say thank you.

“Well, that was ominous,” Jamie said.

Edgar pointed at the sky. “I think he meant it literally.”

As they got in the truck, the first drops of rain smacked the roof.

Five minutes later, it was pouring.