When Lightning Strikes Twice. Debrah Morris
in the face. “Whoa! It smells worse in here than hell on housecleaning day.”
Mallory stepped inside and poked around the tiny kitchen until she discovered the source of the stench. “Sheesh, Mitchum! You left a pound of hamburger in the fridge, and the electricity’s been off all weekend.”
With her hand clamped over her nose, she couldn’t have looked more disgusted if she’d uncovered a decaying corpse. “You can’t stay. The place is filthy. There’s no telling what kind of infection you’d contract just walking around in here.”
“I reckon I can clean things up.”
“You and what hazmat team? There’s no power, no running water and it’s hotter than a brick oven. No one should live like this.”
Being from west Texas, he didn’t mind the heat, though a smart man could learn to like the cool air they had at the hospital. He wouldn’t miss electricity and running water. Such luxuries had been beyond his ranger’s salary. That toe-curling smell, though, would take some getting used to.
“C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Mallory found a couple of brown paper bags. Into one, she stuffed clothes from the tiny wardrobe and built-in drawers. She dropped the rotting package of meat into the other and carried it outside, flinging it into a charred metal barrel. “I hope those mutts don’t turn over the trash can.”
“Might improve the looks of the place.” Joe leaned on the crutches and limped down the step. “Where are we going?”
Mallory tossed his makeshift suitcase in the back of the truck and helped him into the passenger seat. “I have an extra room. You can stay with me until the bandages come off, and you can walk without crutches.”
Her offer confused him. “I don’t know about that. How will it look for a young maiden lady to take a man into her home?”
She laughed. “A young what?”
“I couldn’t forgive myself if I besmirched your reputation in any way.”
She glanced sideways at him as she started the engine and shifted gears. “You’re kidding, right?”
The blast of cool air from the dashboard was a modern convenience he would hate to give up. “I know how people talk.”
“Don’t worry about my reputation, Mitchum, I can take care of myself. And don’t get any smart ideas. I’m offering you a place to stay. Nothing else.”
“Well, if you’re sure it won’t get you into hot water.”
“Let me ask you something.” She threw the gearshift back into Park and turned to face him. “Since when have you been so concerned about what people think?” Her golden eyes flashed, and her full lips clamped together in a don’t-lie-to-me line.
“A good reputation is the most valuable thing a person can own,” he replied.
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’d rather lose my right arm than my honor.”
Her sudden hoot of laughter wounded him in a way he hadn’t known possible. He fell silent in the face of her ridicule. The old Joe must have lived by a different code. That’s why Mallory held him in such low esteem. An obstacle like that would complicate his mission, but sharing living quarters with her would provide him with plenty of opportunities to win her over.
He watched Mallory angle the gearshift into Reverse and back out of the rutted drive. He couldn’t see Molly in her face, but at times, he could hear his old love in her words, sense her in Mallory’s efficient movements. Not now of course. At the moment, she was all Mallory. A smart woman who wouldn’t admit there were things she couldn’t understand. A familiar stranger who would never know how important she was to him unless he opened her eyes.
He wouldn’t lose this chance. He was meant to be here and felt at peace in Mallory’s company. He felt like a man who’d finally made it home after a long, heart-sore journey.
When he and Celestian hadn’t been biting each other’s heads off, they’d had deep discussions. A hundred years added up to a lot of gab. One topic they’d thrashed out was the purpose of corporeal life.
The Spirit-Maker divided every created spirit and sent it on an earthly mission to find its other half. The Plan provided each questing spirit with the knowledge needed to complete its search. However, due to a snag in the system, once a spirit assumed human form, it seemed to forget its mission. Human beings expended enormous time and energy creating philosophies and religions to explain their existence. But what they didn’t know—couldn’t know—was that when they made the right connection, everything else fell into place.
A whole spirit could change the world, do unlimited good, serve the Spirit-Maker and mankind. A half spirit could only quest. And while that spirit might accomplish worthwhile objectives on earth, it would never feel complete as it yearned forever for its missing half.
Without even knowing what it hungered for.
Hope was eternal, and if a half-life spirit alighted in Reception, it was carefully rerouted to begin the cycle again. Considering how important the quest was in the scheme of things, it was an ironically sad fact of cosmic life that only a few managed to find the spirit that would make them whole. All were given the opportunity, but most were too blind to use it.
The Ranger considered himself lucky. He’d spent several lifetimes with his healer half and then a century in time-out, learning the way. Fate had handed him an undeserved gift when it allowed him to return as Mallory’s neighbor. He was not going to make the most human of all mistakes and forfeit his last chance.
Because of the old Joe’s poor housekeeping habits, he could spend the next few days under the same roof as his destiny. Things were looking up. Coincidences that weren’t coincidences had come to his aid.
Mallory steered the truck into the paved parking lot, drove past the clinic, and up a little hill. She parked in front of a white house with green shutters, surrounded with neat flowerbeds and trimmed grass. Potted plants swung from the porch posts. This was more like it. This was a home, not a hovel. Good things could happen here.
He sighed gratefully.
Thank you, Joe Mitchum, wherever you are, for being such a lazy ne’er-do-well.
Chapter Three
Mallory settled Joe in an extra bedroom at the opposite end of the house. He would have his own bathroom, so their paths would not have to cross any more than necessary. So far, he hadn’t been nearly as annoying as she knew he could be, but once the shock wore off, he might revert to old habits.
Openly admiring the accommodations, he limped around the blue-and-white bedroom on his crutches, pulling out drawers and inspecting the closet. He bounced the mattress experimentally with one hand and grinned like he’d never seen a pillow-top queen before. Some people were easily impressed.
She left him to put away the things she’d grabbed at the trailer while she started dinner. She hadn’t been her practical, logical self since that errant bolt of lightning had thrust Joe Mitchum into her life. Doing something mundane would restore her sense of normalcy. Making nice with a guy whom she’d always considered an odious nuisance was unnerving. Factor in the twitchiness that overcame her when he was near, and it was no wonder she was feeling weird.
Helping Joe was a way of paying back some of the generosity she’d received over the years. A distressing mission of mercy, but somebody had to do it. Hoping he wouldn’t give her a reason to regret opening her home to him, she heated water for spaghetti and dumped a bag of prepackaged salad into a bowl. Turning to the stove with pasta for the boiling pot, she jumped and nearly dropped it. Joe was watching her intently from the doorway.
“Jeepers! Don’t sneak up on me like that! Do you want to give me cardiac arrest?” After years of living alone, having another person around would take some getting used to. Having Joe Mitchum