I am in Love with an Invisible Man [Completed][ParanormalRomance]

E I G H T - The Tool Box

"Hi!" Exclaims an ecstatic barista from across the counter.

"Vanessa. I'm happy to see you here." Josslyn thought the owner of EugeneSide Café had fired Vanessa due to last week's horrendous spillage incident.

"I'm happy to be here. My uncle fires me ten times a day." Vanessa blocks the right corner of her mouth to share her secret.

"Family is family." Josslyn contains her smile.

"I'm really sorry about last week though." Vanessa pouts her lips. "I'm usually very careful, but that bag on the floor had this shiny chain link - you know the fancier they are, the more troublesome they become, and it snatched my foot like a gator and I just went 'Wham' and -"

Josslyn waves a hand at Vanessa. "No, it's okay. Really." She welcomed the apology but she was more interested in Vanessa's southern drawl. It flows so lyrically for the teenager.

"Well then, we got your order rung up. Just pick it up!" Josslyn hands over her visa card.

"Oh no, we don't take payment from you anymore, Miss..."

"Dawson."

"Miss Dawson. You get free coffee for life!"

"Huh?" Josslyn scrunches her face.

"Oh, I guess you haven't talked to, um, Watty? That's his name?"

"Wyatt." Josslyn tenses up. Here she is thinking she'll never have to say that name again, yet here she is, saying that bastard's name. "What did he do now?" Josslyn asks accusingly.

"Oh nothing, he just said he wouldn't press charges if we gave you free coffee for life. He's so nice. He stood up for me." Vanessa blushes, "y'all not seeing each other are you? Cause I think he likes you. Never seen a grown man all blushing red like that talking about a gal."

Ugh! Here she is thinking she had paid her dues to this man and he slams another invoice in her face. She hands her card to Vanessa. "I don't accept charity. I want to pay for my drink."

"Oh," Vanessa purses her lips. She smiles sheepishly. "I can't do that. My uncle's not here today and I don't wanna get him mad again. One of these days, he might just fire me for real."

---

Josslyn carries six grocery bags up the driveway toward her front door. She didn't have enough hands to balance the free cup of coffee now sitting in the cup holder of her Ford Focus. She manages to swing the front door open and immediately gags. What the heck is that smell?

She runs to the trash, which is filled to the brim with rotting vegetable, lasagna, and remnants of decomposing chicken marsala. She drags the trash bin to the front door, lifts the heavy bag out of the bin and wedges her front door open. The bag doesn't budge. She drags the bin down the driveway then heaves it into the dumpster, wiping her hands proudly. Time for a new trash bin.

Josslyn returns to air out her house. Making sure to prop the door open, she sniffs around. No, the odor didn't just comprise of the trash. She tracks down the odor and gasps at the patches of wet urine and feces that now stain the hallway carpet. Oh crap. The toilet is leaking again.

Edwin squeezes through the front door that's been propped open. Josslyn does this so he can come and go as he pleases. He glances at the clock that's hanging too high against the ceiling. It was her weak attempt at hanging something against the wall and it's apparent she's not too good with hammers and nails. He hears several clanks coming down the hall and heads toward the noise.

A mop props up against the bathroom doorframe. The water bucket is a deep dark yellow. He cocks his head; they don't own a Rug Doctor which can only mean she had to rent this one. He peers into the bathroom to find Josslyn sitting on the bathroom floor beside a bright red toolbox. She holds a screwdriver in one hand and a few drive bits in the other while she consults with wikiHow.com on how to fix the toilet.

Edwin hates watching her struggle to do things that he, as a man, should be doing. Leaning against the doorframe, he watches as she wipes sweat from her brow and curses under her breath. He clears his throat, "leaking again?"

She doesn't answer. He can tell her temper is getting the better of her frustration. He gulps. Seven lifetimes as an immortal man, yet here he is, intimidated by this petite woman. "Honey, I think you need professional help."

"No. I got it," she snaps.

Edwin fails to bite his tongue. "Honey, if you'd gotten it, it wouldn't have leaked again."

Josslyn wipes sweat off her nose and hurls the screwdriver into the toolbox. "Well, why don't you fix it then."

Edwin grits his teeth. "That's a bitchy low blow, Maybel. You know I can't."

"Then just let me be a bitch for a while!" Josslyn storms past him and out the front door. He runs after her and trails her to the wooden bench propped underneath the overhanging porch ceiling. She plops down and buries her face in her hands. Edwin observes her in silence and leans against the railing directly in front of her. He knows that she knows he's here. He'll always be here.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." Her words muffle through her hands.

Edwin smiles and kneels in front of her. "You're a strong woman to put up with me. I'd forgive you every time."

Josslyn props her elbows against her knees. "You know I don't like it, Edwin. I don't even know that woman."

He knows she's right. Although some of Maybel's behavioral traits are still discernible, Josslyn is an entirely different physical being from the woman he had married in 1839. She's much smarter, much wittier, more docile, reserved and mentally stronger. Maybel, on the other hand, was the quintessential blonde hair, blue eye hellish spitfire; strong-willed against advice, outspoken with attitude - which at time did more harm than good - and stubborn as an ox. But never underestimate her loyalty.

To Edwin, it's like loving the spirit of a woman who has now merged into a new body and a new mind. Much of it too, is how they were raised. Life in the 1800s was an arduous existence. Maybel needed to be tough to survive. Josslyn, on the other hand, experienced too much mental and physical abuse growing up and Edwin knows he is to blame for much of that.

But he really miss his Maybel and wonders if he'll ever get the chance to see her again. It's hard to believe Heaven exists when you've never set foot in God's Kingdom - no matter how many times you've died.

"I'm sorry. I don't ever mean to call you Maybel. You know that."

Josslyn nods but her fear lingers. This man must have loved his wife so much to still miss her seven lifetimes over. But after twenty-five years, Josslyn has expected him to fully embrace her as her own person. What if Edwin loves Maybel more than he loves me?

"Hey," Edwin drawls softly. "Remember, I love you. You."

Josslyn smiles. Her husband reads her like his favorite book. Of course you do.

"Now let's call the plumber and get this figured out once and for all."

Josslyn sighs. "Edwin, I don't really want to spend anymore money unless I have to."

"Why?"

She hesitates responding. In fact, she doesn't like talking about money because the topic usually prompts too many unforeseen risks. "I don't have much money left."

Edwin narrows his eyes as the pile of evidence begins to dawn on him. It's no wonder she's been DIY-ing far more frequently than usual, although plumbing is far from her strong suit.

"Well, you know what that means." Edwin beams, "it's back to Vegas, baby."

Josslyn groans silently. She hopes that what happens in Vegas will hopefully remain in Vegas. 

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