Vickie: Dr. by day. Ghost Whisperer by night (Book 3)

I leaned my head against the window as I stared out into the darkness.  The moisture laden clouds hung low over the mountaintops.  The heavy rain that poured down from the dark masses blanketing the sky made the night so black that even our headlights did little to illuminate our way more than a few yards ahead of us.

It was a fitting night that perfectly matched our mood and the occasion.  A dry, bright, and starry night would have been insensitive to the emotions that permeated the car’s interior as Max and I made our way home from an eight-week honeymoon that had been reduced to four weeks by the news that his house had mysteriously burned to the ground.

  Upon my insistence that we marry right away, Max scrambled to make arrangements for law and order to be carried on by his office with the same attention given to the area when he was around and then booked us two tickets for Las Vegas. Within a week, we were happy newlyweds. 

I knew that Megan would be disappointed when she discovered that we’d eloped since she’d suggested that we allow her to perform our wedding ceremony, but I felt that we’d be forced into inviting Evan and Angela to join us.  Since I was rushing my marriage to Max in order to put a barrier between me and Evan, I didn’t want the energy that passed between us whenever we were in close proximity of each other looming over my marriage vows to Max.  As for Angela… she’d made no bones about how she felt where Max and I were concerned.  She reeked of animosity and jealousy.  Again, it was something that I didn’t want permeating the environment as we made our vows to each other. 

We stayed at the Palazzo and were married at The Little White Chapel.  Although

he was alright with eloping, Max insisted that I wear a beautiful wedding gown while he donned a tuxedo.  I have to admit that seeing the look on his face when he saw me enter the chapel in my white satin gown sent shivers of delight down my body that definitely added to the experience. 

Since I wasn’t one who enjoyed being the center of attention, I was actually relieved that we didn’t have a large audience to deal with and then entertain afterward.  We were able to race back to our room where we spent the next two days living on room service while repeatedly consummating our marriage.

Since our reservations for the resort in Fiji were for a good year ahead, we opted to stay in Las Vegas for the better part of a week and enjoy its fine food, good shows, and liveliness.  We’d been married for five days when we woke up, looked at each other, and simultaneously said, “I’m done with Vegas.”

I’d suggested that we return to Wolf Junction and begin to set up house as a couple, but he was determined to have a long, momentous honeymoon.

Since I’d done no travel to speak of when I was growing up and had buried myself into my studies while in med school, we had a lot of choices for places to visit.  I left it up to Max.  He chose to start with Puerto Rico and then hop over to the Bahamas, with the promise that we’d keep our reservations for Fiji the following year for a second honeymoon.

The first few weeks were relaxing and interesting.  We alternated between hanging out on the beach and taking tours of the area in the daytime.  We took in a few dinner shows in the evening, but, for the most part, we retired to our rooms after a full day, made love until we could barely function, and then fell into a deep, blissful sleep.

I found that being married released what little inhibitions Max may have had -that I couldn’t even imagine existed until they were gone- where sex was concerned.  He became even more lustful and adventurous.  Fortunately, the same thing happened to me, so we were well matched.  Was it a result of the potion spell that Megan had created to help me come in touch with my feelings? 

Due to our drinking wine that was mysteriously tampered with by some unknown wine assailant, Megan had dropped the potion and it was lost to us so that I couldn’t work the spell correctly.  She said that there would be repercussions for a spell gone awry.  Was Max’s extreme sex drive and super erotic tastes a result of that?  Or had he simply stripped off any restraints he may have had while dating me and was just showing me the real him?  I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter.  I was a greedy lover who reveled in the way that he explored my body and searched for new and different ways to please me in the bedroom and I enjoyed occasionally doing the same for him.  

It was our last day in Puerto Rico before heading off to the Bahamas.  We’d just returned from an afternoon tour of the rain forest when Max received a call from his deputy, Larry Robbins, on his cell phone.  He was laughing and enjoying the stories that the guide was sharing with him about some of the antics he’d endured and witnessed by the tourists he’d guided when he excused himself to step away and take the call. I remember how, when he saw that the call was from his office, he’d jokingly said that someone had better be on death’s door or the town burned down to justify disturbing him on his honeymoon as he strutted off for his private conversation.

Concern crept in while I watched his body language as he turned his back to us and slumped his shoulders in a dejected way.  Sadness permeated the atmosphere long before he’d put his cellphone back into his pocket and rejoined us.  Even the others on the tour felt his pain long before he’d told me what happened.

We were on the first plane home. 

What greeted us was a torrential storm with raindrops thick enough to resemble

shards of glass or slivers of wood.  I remember, when I was young and we’d have storms like that.  My aunt Lily would say that the angels were crying.   I chose to believe that’s what was happening.  The angels were feeling Max’s loss and were crying tears of remorse.  I know that it was my loss too, but, since I’d never set foot in the house, all I felt was the sorrow of not having an alternate place to move into.  Without his house, we’d be forced to reside at mine with Evan and Angela. 

Thoughts of suggesting that we open his family estate house and live there taunted me all the way home as I lamented over having to reside under the same roof as Evan, but Max had yet to confide in me that he was super rich and that the place even existed.  I was sorry that I’d promised Megan that I’d wait for him to tell me, instead of blurting out that she’d told me about his past.

There was a reason that he didn’t want me to know about the estate that he’d inherited.  I assumed it was something that troubled him, since most people would flaunt their inheritance, not hide it.  The aftermath of him losing his home wasn’t the right time to pressuring him to talk about it.  I’d just have to suck it up and do the best I could to avoid Evan at all costs and deal with Angela as best as I could.  

I heaved a sad sigh that I was sure that my husband assumed was over the house.  My time away from the drama, paranormal chaos, and temptations that resided in my house had been wonderfully relaxing and pleasurable.  I wasn’t ready to walk back into what I’d left.  Had we been gone long enough for things to calm down?  Could that happen in a few weeks’ time?

We drove right to his house.  Upon his request, I stayed in the car while he spent thirty minutes or so staring at the charred remnants of what was once his home.  His deputy, Larry, met us there and talked to him as they hunched together under an oversized umbrella.  I assumed that they were discussing how the fire started, but I

couldn’t be sure. 

When Max returned to the car, he said nothing about his conversation with his deputy and I gave him his privacy.  I’d asked him if he was alright.  He’d given me a weak smile and said that he was fine before pulling away from the still smoking ruin.  I wasn’t the type to prod and pry.  When he was ready to talk about it, he would.