Soldier of Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

was so good! This hair and moustache looked so real!”
    Mike Briggs—a handsome, slightly awkward, real estate salesman from North Dakota—actually let out a little squeak of delight. Under the table, Toni pinched her own thigh to squelch her laughter. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, and when she was sure she wouldn’t break character, she laid her hands over her left breast.
    “He was in the shadows. He gave a tiny bow and touched the brim of his cap. I was waiting for him to step into the light so I could see his face. I turned away for a split second…” Toni paused.
    Mike Briggs’ thumb went to his mouth and he gnawed at the nail.
    “When I looked up, he was gone.”
    The men glanced at each other and grinned nervously. They seemed conflicted, as if they wanted more than anything to believe her, and were desperate not to. Toni didn’t let her audience step back from the precipice.
    “But the weirdest thing—” she began.
    They all leaned in.
    “Well, maybe it’s best to show you.”
    Toni pushed away from the table and walked towards the kitchen, certain that they would follow. She heard silverware clatter onto china and half a dozen chairs scrape backwards as she pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen. They were hot on her heels when she passed through the squeaky screen door and stepped into the back yard. She turned and walked backwards, leading her rapt audience over the flagstone path to the carriage house, like a museum docent leading a tour group.
    “I didn’t want to believe it, but see for yourself,” she said, then turned and strode towards the carriage house.
    Toni reached out for the door handle and gave it a hearty tug. The men shouldered in around her and examined the fresh repair.
    Arthur Edwards, a rail-thin Wisconsin history professor, squinted and crossed his arms over his concave chest. “So, are you telling us that your ghost does home repairs?”
    The other men laughed nervously.
    Toni held out her hands, palms up, and shrugged.
    “I can’t explain it, Dr Edwards. All I know is that when I went to bed the wood was splintered and the door handle was lost somewhere in the mud. When I went to get the truck the next morning to drive you all to the battlefield, this is what I found.”
    Toni watched as five heads swivelled between her and the university professor, waiting for him to return the volley. Arthur Edwards stroked his chin and looked thoughtful.
    “I see,” he said, seeming not at all sure.
     

Chapter Three
     
     
     
    Toni drove her six guests to the battlefield without telling them about the possessed kitchen television and cordless phone. Something told her that there was a fine line between a titillating ghost story and room-clearing terror. Nor did she mention that she’d contacted the Paranormal Research Team and they were now on their way to the inn.
    The re-enactors wouldn’t return to the inn until well after midnight. They would play out a battle in the morning, after which the Soldiers Orchard ladies’ auxiliary was scheduled to cook an historically correct field lunch for the men. They would then repair to The Slaughtered Lamb for a traditional dinner, followed by a period-costumed dance.
    Toni scraped the breakfast dishes and sank them into a bath of suds. She slung a dish towel over her shoulder and glanced at the reproduction antique clock over the stove. The Paranormal Research Team should be arriving any moment. Toni fought the urge to stand watching for them at the parlour window. She began sponging dried egg from the mismatched plates, cocking her head to listen at every vehicle passing in the street. When she’d washed the last plate and coffee cup and piece of flatware and placed them in the drainer to dry, she pulled the plug, dried her hands and leant forward to drape the damp towel over the stainless steel bar affixed to the cupboard above the sink.
    A wispy tickle on the back of her neck made Toni involuntarily shrug. It felt