After her grandmother retired for the evening, dressed in a long flannel nightgown with a matching mob cap Tamara found just too retro for words, she donned her red hooded jacket and slipped out into the night. At the late hour the street stretched empty, although she could hear traffic from the larger thoroughfare a few blocks away. She searched the darkness for any sign of Wulfric, but finding nothing, assumed he must be gone. Probably got tired of waiting, Tamara thought and although she’d sworn she wanted him to go, she missed him. Disappointment soured her already bitter mood and she trudged down the sidewalk, cursing the long walk home. It might take another half hour or even forty-five minutes, unless she cut through the cemetery. At the end of the street, she jogged over to the dead end of it, to the entrance. The tall, heavy gates were shut and locked but she’d climbed them before and she figured she still could. If she remembered right, there might still be a section of fence where the bars gaped and she could squeeze through. Tamara’d done it plenty during her teenage years and although she should have more decorum now, she didn’t. All she wanted to do was reach home without incident, crawl into her bed and sleep.
She slipped through the gap and moved through the cemetery with the same silent grace as the shadows flitting through the place. Tamara didn’t know if light refraction cast them or if they might be ghosts, but she didn’t care either. Nor was she afraid. She strolled through mausoleum row, a place she’d considered a neighborhood for the dead as a child. As she reached the end of the line where she’d need to step off pavement and cut through rows of graves, she heard something scuffle behind and froze. Although it might be some nocturnal animal, somehow she doubted it and recalled now the old cemetery drew a crowd of visitors, some far from nice. She pulled her red hooded jacket closer and said with a bravado she didn’t feel, “Who’s there?”
As she waited for a reply, she scanned the dark rows of grave monuments but saw nothing and the silence began to bother her. If someone jumped her, she’d do her best to fight but she wasn’t carrying anything she could defend herself with, not even a pocket knife. She heard noise again, just behind her and whirled to see Wulfric approaching.
“You scared me,” she said, dropping her tough girl pose for a moment. “Why did you follow me?”
He stared down at her, face sober. “I was worried about you. You shouldn’t cut through here, Tamara. A girl got raped here last weekend and a lot of drug deals go down here too. Besides, there’s too many wannabe ghost hunters wandering around playing hoodoo games.”
“I’m not afraid,” Tamara lied.
“You were.”
He knew her too well and she resented it. “No, I’m not. Go away, go home or something. Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I do,” Wulfric said, “but I don’t sleep much anyway and I’m not going home until I make sure you get there safely. If you want to waste time fighting about it, we can.”
His eyes stared into hers with such intent power she shuddered. He meant what he said and although she didn’t want to admit it, Tamara liked it. As she trembled he put his arm across her shoulders, casual and friendly. “Okay,” she conceded. “I’ll let you this time, just because I’m too tired to argue. But you need to let it go, Wulfric, and forget about me. I’m not worth bothering with.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t agree with you but oh, well. Let’s go.”
Wind, sharper than a well-honed blade, cut through her as they exited the cemetery. November chill sent shivers through her and with a sigh Wulfric put his arm around her. “You’re freezing,” he said, accusation in his tone.
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“You’re going to get sick,” he fussed. “Let’s stop by my place so you can warm up. It’s still a long way to your house.”
She shouldn’t and she knew it but Tamara shivered. “Oh, all right,” she said.
Wulfric lived in an upstairs apartment in an old two story frame house. She’d walked by here many times but never been inside because back when they were still together, he lived in another place. Tamara followed him up the narrow stairs and stood in the dark hallway as he unlocked the door. Once inside the small living room, she sat down on the rump sprung couch, arms wrapped around her torso in an effort to get warm. Heat rippled outward from an old steam heat register and after a few moments, she felt its warmth.
“Do you want some coffee or something?” Wulfric asked, shedding his own jacket.
Tamara shook her head. “No but thanks. I don’t want to be any trouble or make a fuss.”