Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(5)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Abby closed her mouth and her eyes.

When she opened them again, she replied, “You do know.”

“It’s just a house,” Jenny returned.

“My mother grew up here. My grandmother grew up here. My grandmother inherited this house from her father who died before she was born. It was the only thing he was ever able to give her that would keep her safe, warm and protected. And he grew up here, as did his father and his father before him. I can’t sell it. It’s the only thing I have left of them. It’s the only thing I have at all.”

A look of pain crossed Jenny’s face before she could hide it but her next words explained it. “You have us, Kieran and me. You have friends. You have –”

Abby’s voice turned harsh in order to hide the hurt of the invisible hand that always squeezed her heart when they had this conversation, when the reminder came, yet again, of all she didn’t have.

“You don’t understand. You have Kieran. Ben’s gone, Jenny, dead.” Abby spit out the last word that she didn’t need to use, a word she didn’t need to remind her friend was attached to Abby’s husband. Jenny knew all too well and Abby watched her friend flinch. “There will never be another Ben. I’ll never have that again. Most women don’t get that kind of love even once in their life. I had it and now it’s gone and it hurts every day even after all this time it hurts every single day. Mom’s gone, Dad’s gone, Ben’s gone and now Gram’s gone. I need this house. I need the memories I have in this house. I’ll never give it up. Never. I can’t. Gram wouldn’t understand. Mom wouldn’t understand. Hell, even Ben wouldn’t understand if I let this house go. They all loved it just like I do. You don’t get it, you can’t get it and I hope to God you never do!”

Jenny started to speak but Abby shook her head.

“If I have to do something you don’t approve of to take care of myself, my life, my home, then I’m sorry. You can’t take care of all my problems. I can’t lean on you and Kieran for everything. You’ve been there every time. Mom, Dad, Ben, Gram and all the crazy, stupid stuff I’ve done in between. Now it’s high time I stepped up. I got myself in this mess, I’ll damned well get myself out.”

“Abby, please –” Jenny started.

“No,” Abby cut her off, “no, you please. Please just support me and help me. One month, then I can start over. I can get the house back in shape and get my life back on track. One month and then we can put it all behind us.” Abby put her hands on her petite friend’s neck and bent her face toward her. “I need you to support me with this, Jenny. Please.”

Jenny’s face gentled but she didn’t give up. “Abby, honey, I know how you feel about this house and I love it too. You know I do. But I think you’re focusing on this house and fixing it up and keeping it as some weird way to keep hold of your family, of Ben. I promise you, Abby, I promise, you won’t lose the memories of them if you give up this house.”

She was wrong.

Sometimes, if Abby was out somewhere and the memory of Ben decided to travel through her mind, she’d forget what he smelled like. She’d forget what it felt like to have his hands on her body, his fingers finding hers, his knee brushing hers under a table. She’d forget what his voice sounded like, his laughter, his familiar chuckle when she’d done something he considered “adorable”.

Sometimes she’d even forget what he looked like and she’d have to drop everything and rush home.

In this house, she’d remember. She’d remember him at the kitchen table drinking coffee and chatting with her grandmother or playing cards with her Mom and Dad. She’d remember him decorating the Christmas tree in the living room. She’d remember him teasing her grandmother that she had way too damn many rose bushes in the garden that Gram would ask him to prune. She’d remember hearing his laughter coming from the study mingled with her father’s as they drank whisky and tried to outdo each other telling rude jokes. She’d remember him making love to her in the same roll top tub that was now the bane of her existence when her grandmother was on holiday in Germany and they were watching the house.

Abby could never, ever sell this house.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered, feeling the tears pricking her eyes.

“No,” Jenny whispered back, “I don’t.” She paused and then sighed before speaking again. “But if this is what you’ve got to do, girlfriend, then this is what you’ve got to do.”

Abby swallowed back her tears and nodded her gratitude.

“I’m just not going to tell Kieran,” Jenny finished.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Abby agreed.

Jenny’s reaction had been dramatic enough.

Kieran would probably shout the roof down and Abby had just had it re-tiled.

* * * * *

An hour later, with both Pete and Jenny gone, Abby sat at her grandmother’s writing desk in the living room and stared at the transaction that beamed grand and glorious from her bank statement which was displayed on the computer screen.

Abby felt relief sweep through her.

All right, so she was a very highly paid prostitute.

But at least now she could pay off that unbelievably expensive outfit she wore today that maxed out credit card number two.

Her mobile on the desk sounded.

Abby picked it up and looked at the display, fear that word of her new job as whore had leaked out to Kieran and he was going to give her what for replaced the short-lived relief she’d felt the moment before.

The display said “Unknown Caller” and since Kieran was very known, Abby slid open her phone and put it to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Abby.”

Oh dear Lord, it was Cash. She knew it immediately. She’d never forget his deep, rough voice with the more-than-subtle hint of Scottish burr.

What did she say? What did she do?

“Yes,” she replied.

“James explained your terms,” he told her, his voice just as deep, just as rough and just as sexy over the phone as it was when he leaned close and calmly asked how much it would cost to f**k her.

She’d never forget that either. She’d wanted to hit him when he’d done it.

She also had the very weird desire to kiss him.

She hadn’t had the desire to kiss anyone since Ben. It had been four years, four very long years.

Then again she’d never been your normal girl next door.