The Saddest Anchor (closed for DeliciousMaiden)

"Both to be honest, she always wore this very alluring perfume, during my more sober moments I seemed to smell faint traces of that perfume."

She watched him as he sighed and settled in his chair. He looked exhausted and she couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

"But what would it mean? Would she try to draw me from where I usually were to where she would want me to be? To be honest without any definate ideas we'll just shoot ideas into the dark like tracers, hoping to start a brush fire."

Sarah nodded, but she was sure that Grace would make her intentions clear when she chose to. Perhaps even Grace didn't know why she hadn't moved on ... that happened according to Patrick ... but how she was to help the couple find some kind of 'peace' Sarah could not imagine.

"Not so sure that she would not mind about the clothing though, you do fit very well into them."

She looked down at the clothes and realised that she and his wife must be similar in stature and size.

"I'll go pop your clothing into the machine, would you like another cup of coffee?"

"OK, yes that would be great ... thanks ... "

She rose and made her way into the kitchen taking his empty mug along with hers as she did so. She looked around, but there was no sign of Grace, which was strange ... there had to be a logic to it, she was sure, but at that moment, Sarah didn't have enough information to know how to move forward ...

"So, Grace isn't here all the time then?"

She asked him carefully.

"I mean, you're not aware of her all the time?"

She sipped her coffee as she considered.

"I was thinking that perhaps you might try to jot down times when you were felt that she was here with you and what made you think so ... you know, the perfume scent, the telephone thing, computer ... then think about where you were, what you were doing, what you were feeling ... and ... how sober you were at the time ..."

She raised her hand hastening to add.

"I am not saying it's linked with your drinking ... but maybe like all of us, Grace is concerned about you when you drink ... it might be interesting to see if there's any link or pattern with any of that ... worth a try at least?"

She suggested ...
 
He wrung out her clothing as much as he could and threw the damp clothing into the washing machine, added washing powder and closed the lid, warm water getting pumped into the machine as he walked out of the room. When he stepped into the kitchen, Sarah started asking him questions about Grace and before he could reply she went on, he listened as he was used to do by now, a faint smile touching his lips when she mentioned that people worried about his drinking.

"I can tell you right off the bat that Grace isn't around when I'm stone cold drunk, she seems to linger about for periods of time when I'm mostly sober or slightly intoxicated as for time...it varies to be honest, but I will log it down for you."

He perched on the table, giving his feet some rest,

"The only time things really started to happen was the day...that you came here."

He turned his head to look at her, those eyes...he sighed softly and focused his gaze an inch above her eyes,

"Before that I had some moments of clarity, but never did I feel, see or smell anything...well apart from the few times that I could swear I saw her reflection, the dark hair and what always stands out is her eyes."

His gaze dipped to her eyes for a scant second,

"Parapsychology...do you have somebody you know who works in the field? You were very adamant before that this is far from your field of study and that you are in unknown water, yet a notion of this study brought you here today."

He gave her a small grin,

"Almost like somebody changed your mind slightly about it."

He ran his fingers over the stubble on his chin and jaw,

"Though I do understand your reluctance to partake in the exercise of studying something for which there is no logical grounds, explanation nor proof. It would be like trying to impress on the 9th century BC world that the world is round and not flat, you will get ridiculed and perhaps burned at the stake as a witch..."

He stopped and shook his head,

"I'm babbling, sorry."
 
"I can tell you right off the bat that Grace isn't around when I'm stone cold drunk, she seems to linger about for periods of time when I'm mostly sober or slightly intoxicated as for time...it varies to be honest, but I will log it down for you. The only time things really started to happen was the day...that you came here."

His words shocked her. Sarah didn't want to feel that she was so tightly involved in all this and felt her familiar inclination to flee further involvement.

"Before that I had some moments of clarity, but never did I feel, see or smell anything...well apart from the few times that I could swear I saw her reflection, the dark hair and what always stands out is her eyes."

She nodded focusing on his words carefully once more and realising how painful this must be for him.

"Parapsychology...do you have somebody you know who works in the field? You were very adamant before that this is far from your field of study and that you are in unknown water, yet a notion of this study brought you here today ...
"Almost like somebody changed your mind slightly about it."


She grimaced; between them Patrick and Grace had done a great job on her!

"Though I do understand your reluctance to partake in the exercise of studying something for which there is no logical grounds, explanation nor proof. It would be like trying to impress on the 9th century BC world that the world is round and not flat, you will get ridiculed and perhaps burned at the stake as a witch... I'm babbling, sorry.. "[/I]

She shook her head and responded softly.

"Not at all .. it's nice to talk and ... this whole parapsychology thing ... well ... there's a history, which is why I guess I was so ... reluctant and I guess unhelpful to start with ... "

She blushed aware of his interest and knew she owed him an explanation.

"Patrick ... an ex of mine ... it's his specialism ... it was always a bone of contention between us when we were dating ... "

She sighed and shook her head.

" ... when all this started there was no one else I could call for advice ... you can imagine that I'm being subjected to the biggest 'I-told-you-so' in break up history ... "

She confessed.
 
He looked at her, she was not very comfortable with the subject, the small sigh underscored the fact, he wished to place a hand of comfort on her shoulder and found himself doing just that, he had slipped off of the table, his hand resting on her shoulder,

"It is better to stand up for what you believe in, than to admit to what you do not believe only to satisfy another."

He gave her shoulder a light squeeze and then turned away, fixing himself another cup, just as he was done the ping from the washing machine caught his attention.

"I'll be right back."

He went to the washing machine and popped her clothing into the tumble dryer, setting it, he went back to the kitchen and picked up his cup and sat down, sipping the dark liquid.

"Only problem is that so far there is no factual grounds for any of our experiences, I can tell you that each and everything that happened will have a logical explanation and not one of them will involve paranormal activities."

He gave a slight grin,

"So without substantial and concrete proof...there will be no "I-told-you-so", much like there wasn't any substantial proof in the cases I studied when I wrote 'Deadly Claims', think they made a movie about it...yes indeed they did, it was the one which woke me up this morning."
 
"It is better to stand up for what you believe in, than to admit to what you do not believe only to satisfy another."

She was surprised at the gesture of support and was still pondering this change of heart when he disappeared to see to the clothes.

"Only problem is that so far there is no factual grounds for any of our experiences, I can tell you that each and everything that happened will have a logical explanation and not one of them will involve paranormal activities."

They smiled at each other over coffee.

"So without substantial and concrete proof...there will be no "I-told-you-so", much like there wasn't any substantial proof in the cases I studied when I wrote 'Deadly Claims', think they made a movie about it...yes indeed they did, it was the one which woke me up this morning."

She listened to him as he spoke about his book. It was all too easy to forget that he was a famous author and that movies had been made of his work.

"You see that's the problem. I don't buy that proof bit any more. Even after I kept chucking that at Patrick like a broken record and boy was I big on the logical explanations ... "

She rolled her eyes at the memory.

"But do you think I was stood out there talking to myself this morning? Do you think there is something logical happening to your phone and computer?"

She asked him, aware that she was now taking on Patrick's role.

"And how did I know what your wife looked like, even before I saw her picture on the computer? Heck I had no idea who you are, still don't really, at least author wise."

She threw him a sassy grin.

"Perhaps that's why I'm not suitably deferential towards you and maybe that's why you find me difficult to like, 'cos I don't give you the respect you feel you deserve?"

She suggested, only half serious and wondering if she would get a reaction from him.
 
How many times did Grace say those words to him at the start of his relationship, he smiled at the fond memory,

"I never believe I should get respect, all I want is for people to enjoy what I do. Sure it's good to get paid to write and to get money for it, but why would I demand or expect respect only because people enjoy my mind?"

He drained his cup and set it aside,

"No Sarah, there is more to us than just that, I think I allowed wounds to close and fester and your very sudden poking into them brought out the worst in me. I have never behaved that way and I am not saying that it is wrong to open the wounds, it is actually exactly what I need. I just didn't know it at that time."

He looked for a moment into her eyes,

"As for who you were talking to...there is no evidence but you word that there was anybody. I am sure with the correct equipment a faint trace could be found, that you were facing towards what could have been atmospherical disturbance, which is easy since we are practically on a body of water. Logic dictates that my mind is not as clear as it should be due to about two bottles of whiskey a day. The telephone and computer could be the results of a drunk forgetting that he had done certain things."

He grinned,

"We are both big on logic doc, it doesn't make us wrong or right, but we also know exactly what we saw, experienced and felt, there may be no real logical proof, but if a soothsayer can accurately tell your future unless your decisions change that future, then I think we have to keep an open mind about all of this."
 
"I never believe I should get respect, all I want is for people to enjoy what I do. Sure it's good to get paid to write and to get money for it, but why would I demand or expect respect only because people enjoy my mind?"

She raised a sceptical eyebrow, but refrained from comment. He had definitely assumed she knew who he was when they had first met.

"No Sarah, there is more to us than just that, I think I allowed wounds to close and fester and your very sudden poking into them brought out the worst in me."

She blushed at his words and by the fact he actually called her by her name for the first time. She had come to hate his satirical appellation of 'doc'.

"I have never behaved that way and I am not saying that it is wrong to open the wounds, it is actually exactly what I need. I just didn't know it at that time."

She nodded, feeling she should apologise, but seemingly it wasn't necessary. Johnathan was actually conceded that he had needed help, which was momentous, especially between them.

"As for who you were talking to...there is no evidence but you word that there was anybody. I am sure with the correct equipment a faint trace could be found, that you were facing towards what could have been atmospherical disturbance, which is easy since we are practically on a body of water. Logic dictates that my mind is not as clear as it should be due to about two bottles of whiskey a day. The telephone and computer could be the results of a drunk forgetting that he had done certain things."

She laughed. This sounded like a conversation between her and Patrick, only it was he who was offering her usual logical explanations whilst she ...

"We are both big on logic doc, it doesn't make us wrong or right, but we also know exactly what we saw, experienced and felt, there may be no real logical proof, but if a soothsayer can accurately tell your future unless your decisions change the future, then I think we have to keep an open mind about all of this."

They were back to their 'professional' discussion, he reminding the 'doc' of the evidence based profession she had been so keen to push under his nose. And that was the nature of their relationship, so who was she to expect anything else.

"So, I guess we need to think through what we do from now onwards?"

She suggested.

"... make sure that we don't collaborate to create a presence of Grace that doesn't really exist ... but somehow ... allow her to get through to you if that is in fact what she's trying to do ... "
 
He gave her a slight grin,

"You do know that means I will have to remain sober, think that will be half the battle won in Grace's eyes."

He looked down at his hands,

"She hated heavy drinking. Not quite sure why I picked that instead of hard drugs...must be my hate of needles."

He looked back up at her, a lopsided smile on his face,

"I guess she brought you here for a reason Sarah, we did not create anything, she's trapped here and I will do anything to help her."
 
"You do know that means I will have to remain sober, think that will be half the battle won in Grace's eyes. She hated heavy drinking. Not quite sure why I picked that instead of hard drugs...must be my hate of needles."

Sarah thought it ironic that he had turned to drink given that Grace had been killed by a drunk driver, but she did not want to risk their tenuous friendship by pointing that out.

"I guess she brought you here for a reason Sarah, we did not create anything, she's trapped here and I will do anything to help her."

Sarah nodded and sighed.

"I got the impression before she didn't like me much ... maybe she's still deciding ... but one thing I know is that she found the whole falling in the lake thing hilarious..."

She told him with a grin.

"... she seems a determined enough lady so I reckon that if she needs our help, that she'll make sure she gets it..."
 
He smiled slightly,

"Well apart from the almost drowning part, it was quite funny."

He glanced at the Chessire cat on the wall, then he got up before the faint ding from the washing room.

"Excuse me"

He returned with her clothing folded up quite neatly,

"There you go, as promised. Would you like something to eat? It is lunch time and though I am no gourmet chef I can make something edible for us if you wish to join me."
 
"Well apart from the almost drowning part, it was quite funny."

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, hilarious..."

She commented dryly.

"Excuse me"

Her clothes were already dry so reluctantly Sarah figured she should leave him in peace.

"There you go, as promised. Would you like something to eat? It is lunch time and though I am no gourmet chef I can make something edible for us if you wish to join me."

The offer took her by surprise.

"That would be nice. As long as you're sure. I've caused you enough problems already ... "

She glanced down at his feet.

"Actually, if you want, I don't mind cooking for us ... especially with your feet all cut up ... "

She explained wondering not for the first time if she was being too pushy.
 
He chuckled,

"Well in that case I will accept your offer graciously, they are killing me that much is certain."

He took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with juice from the fridge, then he sat down again,

"I bought new provisions not too long ago, I'm sure you will find a lot things that you can use to make a meal."

He wondered for a moment why he accepted her offer, the logical explanation would be that his feet would not be happy if he stayed too long on them, he made a mental note to disinfect them later on again. It then occurred to him just how much weight he had lost, he really have been on a strong downwards spiral.
 
"Well in that case I will accept your offer graciously, they are killing me that much is certain."

She was surprised when he agreed to her preparing a meal for them and that he did so with such good humour.

"I bought new provisions not too long ago, I'm sure you will find a lot things that you can use to make a meal."

He told her as he settled down with a glass of juice leaving her to move to the fridge to see what he had in there and then check the cupboards hoping that she might guess what type of meal he might enjoy.

"... well if we're making a meal of it, d'you fancy stir fry, or if you can hold for half an hour I could do some risotto ... you have plenty of veggies and we can add chicken if you want your protein .... ?"

She asked.

"Unless there's something else you fancy?"
 
He boggled his eyes at her, and in a little boy voice said,

"I rove it vhen you speak foren."

He smiled at her,

"I'm a man so the meat is definately a must for me, but further on feel free to do as you please. I have been living off canned soup, corned meat, French toast and whiskey, so anything will be heaven sent."

He gave her a grim little smile,

"And I have no idea what a risotto is, I just eat what is served."
 
She laughed at his response, finding it funny and ... cute ...

"I'm a man so the meat is definately a must for me, but further on feel free to do as you please. I have been living off canned soup, corned meat, French toast and whiskey, so anything will be heaven sent."

She nodded, decision made.

" ... you should start taking care of yourself ... "

She admonished him lightly.

"And I have no idea what a risotto is, I just eat what is served."

She laughed.

"Obedience!? ... I don't believe it, who knew?"

She joked.

"You know Johnathan, if I'd known that this was the answer, I'd have just barged through the door and fed you on that first day ... would have saved us a lot of trouble...."

She joked as she set to work in the kitchen bringing out a variety of vegetables and setting the chicken to marinade as she took out a big wok and smaller frying pan deciding to do the chicken separately and then serve it on top and the veggie-rice concoction. Soon the veggies were sauted, the rice added and stirred to coat with the oil.

"You have any alcohol around he place?"

She asked with a grin.

" ... just a bit of anything will do; wine, beer, cider ...of if not a shot of vermouth or ... anything other than spirit ... that would be too strong ... "

Failing that water, chicken juices and a stock cube would have to do ...
 
He arched an eyebrow at her admonishment and then her statement about having barged in and feeding him,

"Well if you barged in and started feeding me I would have thought you a drunken wish I made to some waternymph while sloshed out of my mind."

He grinned and motioned to the cabinet,

"You can open anything you wish, I would advise not to use the Single Cask Jack Daniels, it is a bit..."

He waggled his hand,

"Heavy, it knocked me out cold for two days...but then again I did drink it straight up and a whole bottle in one go as well."

He winched at the memory,

"I hated waking up after that bender."
 
"Well if you barged in and started feeding me I would have thought you a drunken wish I made to some waternymph while sloshed out of my mind."

She laughed at his comment.

"Water nymph? .... drowned rat more like ... "

She quipped remembering how wet and bedraggled she'd been.

"You can open anything you wish, I would advise not to use the Single Cask Jack Daniels, it is a bit...Heavy, it knocked me out cold for two days...but then again I did drink it straight up and a whole bottle in one go as well."

She winced along with him.

"I hated waking up after that bender."

She grimaced.

"Thank goodness you woke up. I'd have been out for days ... but then again, I'm a lightweight..."

She said spotting an opened bottle of sherry lurking in the back. After adding a dash and then some boiled water, she stirred the wok and left it whilst she saw to the chicken cutting it in long slithers.

"I get hung over on a bottle of wine."

She told him companionably.

" ... always better to eat when you drink anyhows ... "

She left the chicken to marinade.

"OK.. 15 minutes ... and I'll finish it all of ... I reckon we should be able to eat in 20 minutes or so ... ?"
 
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"Well doc you sure know your way around the kitchen. It's like watching poetry in motion."

He gave her a smile,

"Or a haiku to be honest, that was so quick, I'd still try to get enough eggs into a bowl to whisk by now."

He finished his glass,

"You don't want anything else to drink? I think I have some cooldrink hiding away in the dark corners of the fridge."

He got up to pour himself another glass of juice, he actually found that it tasted better without the vodka.
 
"Well doc you sure know your way around the kitchen. It's like watching poetry in motion."

For once she didn't mind the ironic 'doc' he used to refer to her and smiled back at him.

"Or a haiku to be honest, that was so quick, I'd still try to get enough eggs into a bowl to whisk by now."

She laughed.

"Unlike you I've always lived on my own ... and a girl has to eat ... "

She explained with a modest shrug.

"You don't want anything else to drink? I think I have some cooldrink hiding away in the dark corners of the fridge."

She nodded.

"Something cool sounds good."

She replied taking a seat at the kitchen table from where she could keep an eye on the pan.

" ... so ... what does a writer eat when he's being creative? Or did Grace always keep you well fuelled."

Surely Grace had travelled and had her own work to do, though perhaps once they were married, she worked from home as much as he?"
 
He got her a glass and right in the back of the fridge he found a bottle of cooldrink, unopened. He poured her a glass and filled his glass with juice,

"Well before Grace, there was Bob the diner, he kept me well fed on healthy food and of course the nutritional shakes helped as well."

He placed her glass on the table and sat down, stretching out his legs to rest his feet,

"When Grace travelled I lived on French toast, steamed meat and vegetables and nutritional shakes. She always scolded me on her returns, as the food had hardly been dented, but the milk bottles filled up the recycling bin."

He smiled at the memory, her standing in the doorway, holding a half-full bottle of milk, other hand on her hip as she told him how much better feeding himself was to drinking shakes,

"Of course then she made sure to fill me up with proper food, I never complained, just ate, I must've been a very companionable eater, because I never said no to anything she tried."

He chuckled,

"And now the kitchen smells once more of proper food."
 
"Well before Grace, there was Bob the diner, he kept me well fed on healthy food and of course the nutritional shakes helped as well."

She accepted the drink from him and smiled as she watched him relax as he spoke about his wife.

"When Grace travelled I lived on French toast, steamed meat and vegetables and nutritional shakes. She always scolded me on her returns, as the food had hardly been dented, but the milk bottles filled up the recycling bin."

She chuckled at the image he painted and was struck afresh at how much Johnathan must miss his wife.

"Of course then she made sure to fill me up with proper food, I never complained, just ate, I must've been a very companionable eater, because I never said no to anything she tried ... And now the kitchen smells once more of proper food."

She chuckled.

" ... man who quietly eats everything you put in front of him... you're a woman's dream ... "

She teased gently.

"Maybe she just wanted me here to feed you up for her ...?"

She found herself suggesting, before she realised that her words could very well jeopardise the more relaxed mood that Johnathan now seemed to be in.
 
He eyed her and chuckled,

"From here you almost make it sound like the witch from Hansel and Grethel, feed me up for the oven."

Grinning he took a sip of his juice,

"More likely she would want you to scold me for falling into such disrepair and then straighten me out and making sure I eat some proper food every now and again."

He idly fingered the glass,

"Did you know that they're running a marathon on channel 66 of the movies based on my books? I must admit that I'm quite surprised about it."
 
"From here you almost make it sound like the witch from Hansel and Grethel, feed me up for the oven."

She laughed.

"Well ... you treated me like I was an evil old witch. I had to almost drown to get any kind of civility out of you ..."

She scolded good naturedly.

"More likely she would want you to scold me for falling into such disrepair and then straighten me out and making sure I eat some proper food every now and again."

She sipped her drink and nodded thinking it very likely.

"Did you know that they're running a marathon on channel 66 of the movies based on my books? I must admit that I'm quite surprised about it."

She thought it good that he was taking an interest in his work once more.

"And did you know that I've never read any of your books, or seen any of the movies based on them?"

She laughed.

"Unlike Grace, I've not been into fiction for a long time ... 'doc-syndrome' I guess..."
 
"Well then, did you not watch Glamour Chase?"

He grinned,

"You will be the first lady I have ever met who have not seen it."

He took a sip,

"Of course it was not written by Johnathan Moore, it was written by Michael McCharles."

He waggled his hand,

"Never really liked that name, came up with it in high school."
 
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