Matthew Shows Up At Tansy's House
1935 Words
AT THE sound, she nearly dropped her phone. "s**t," she mumbled, walking to the door. She peeked through the peephole only to be taken aback.
The one person she didn't expect to be at her door made her pause. She was surprised, but opened the door nonetheless.
And there he stood, in his dark blue Henley and acid wash jeans. He wore the clothes well. The shirt stretched nicely over his chest, shoulders and biceps. The jeans fit nicely as well.
Tansy shook herself. "Detective?" she asked with confusion.
Matthew Apodaca smiled at her, and removed his sunglasses, revealing those blue eyes. "Tansy," he said in a soft tone. "I came to apologize."
She took in his appearance he'd changed clothes before he came to her house. That explained the casual wear, though his badge was pinned to the waistband of his jeans, and a hip holster housed his GLOCK. "Uh, okay." She stepped aside. "Come on in."
Matthew smiled at her as he stepped into the house. "Thank you."
Tansy closed the door. Nerves were making her avoid his eyes "I was just about to call you," she said, turning from him and heading back toward the kitchen.
"Were you now?" he asked from behind her. "About?"
She went back to the water and pasta on the stove. "He says there's a bridge near where he's at."
Matthew watched as she stirred the pasta. "Okay. Do we know which bridge?"
She shrugged. "I don't think he knows." She deliberately kept her back to him. If she looked at him, she'd get lost in those eyes.
He was quiet for several moments. "Tansy, please look at me."
I can't… She squared her shoulders and turned to face him. Oh, yeah, she was a goner for those pretty blue eyes.
What in the world is wrong with you, woman? You've been around the guy for a total of maybe an hour and a half, so you're gonna moon over him? Egad!
"What?" she said a bit more defensively than she intended.
She was suddenly bombarded with a sense of affection from him.
Affection? For me?
Matthew studied her. "I'm sorry about the Captain. He tends to... get tunnel vision. He really is a good guy." At the look on her face, he nodded. "I know, I get it. You have had too many people treat you that way to see it another way." He leaned over the counter of the kitchen island. "I, however, am not that guy. I try to keep an open mind. And I am telling you, I believe. I honestly do."
Tansy stared at him for several minutes, absorbing his words. She looked, really studied, at the sincerity in his face. Those blue eyes held the belief he had, and she knew he was telling her the truth. She finally shrugged. "Whatever," she mumbled. "I'm used to it."
Matthew's eyes narrowed at that remark, almost as if he could see her wall going back up. "I'm sure you are," he remarked. "Believe me, I am sure you've had your share of disbelievers. I've been there. But you don't have to be defensive with me. I will take everything you tell me as truth, and if it helps us find that boy, so much the better." He let out a small sigh. "I've... seen a few things in my time."
"You have?" What did he mean by that?
He just nodded.
Okay....
She stared at him. He really does believe me. Since her mother, she had not come across anyone who actually accepted her ability. "I... Okay." And, funny he sounded like he knew what she had endured.
She looked at him, and found her mind drifting toward thoughts that had nothing to do with a boy by the river, or why Matthew believed her.
Out of the blue, she wondered what he looked like under those well fitted clothes. Were his abs and chest as sculpted as the shirt made them out to be? What about those thighs? Those arms? How would his beard feel beneath her fingers? How would it be to kiss him?
Her cheeks immediately heated up over those juicy ideas.
Get a hold of yourself, woman! What's wrong with you? You just reconnected with the guy!
"Your pot is boiling over," he smirked, with a grin. A grin that said that he was reading her thoughts.
Tansy jumped. "Oh!" She whipped around to find the pot of pasta ready to drain. As she busied herself with draining the pasta, she noticed he settled himself on one of the stools at the kitchen island. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's just that I've had this reaction all my life, and all my life I've had to be defensive."
"I understand," he said gently. "All your life?"
Tansy left the pasta in the colander in the sink, and turned back to the island to chop the chili and avocados. "I started hearing them when I was about nine." She kept her focus on the cutting of vegetables, lest she'd look into those blue eyes again, she’d want to ravish him.
Ravish him? Really?
She did look at him, though, and those wicked ideas went dashing through her mind again. Numbly, she nodded, trying to shake those naughty things out of her head. "I used to hear them, loudly, at night when I was little. They wouldn't shut up. Mom did her best to help me, but it wasn't until I was about twelve or thirteen, that it eased up."
"And your dad?"
She let out a short laugh. "Oh, no. We, Mom and I, didn't tell Daddy. He was a very superstitious type, and things like that scared him." She added the chili to a glass bowl with cooked chicken in it. "He was away a lot when I was growing up, being a truck driver. So, for the most part it was Mom and me." She caught the attentive look on his face; he was really listening. She stirred into the bowl some celery and onions. "It's funny. When Dad was alive, I knew he loved me, that was a given. He came from a family that didn't express those feelings much, if at all. But I just knew he loved me."
Why am I telling him this? It's not like he cares.
Matthew nodded at her words. "He was your dad. You just knew how he felt about you."
There was a tone in his voice that made her look at him. Almost as if he understood what she was saying. "Right," she said, putting the mixture in the microwave. "So, when he died, I was surprised when he came to me and said he loved me." A small grin came to her face. "But I was pissed when Mom didn't come to me when she died."
Matthew leaned forward. "She said everything she needed to say when she was alive."
Tansy nodded. "Yeah, I realized that later." The microwave dinged at her. She opened the door and stirred the mixture, then timed it again. She wanted to keep her back to him as she felt vulnerable right at that moment.
"What about the rest of your family?" he asked.
A loud snort escaped her. "What family?"
Matthew blinked. "You don't have any family?" She got the idea he found that hard to believe. "At all?"
Again, she wondered at the idea of her telling him these things. She didn't know why she should, but she found, she wanted to tell him. She shook her head at that and turned back to face him. "Most of my mother's family are gone. And my father's family are not people I want to be around, so..."
His eyes narrowed, brows knitted. "Okay, why?"
She couldn't even believe she was telling him this. "They... hated Mom."
His head c****d to the side, almost as if he didn't understand. "They hated her?"
The microwave, thankfully, chose that time to grab her attention again. She turned back to her dinner as she said, "Daddy was from Ohio and German. My Mom was born and raised here in New Mexico, of Hispanic heritage. Daddy's family hated that. To them, she was 'The Mexican' lady." She let out a small, bitter laugh. "It's one thing when your mother tells you that that's what they think of her, but when your paternal grandmother actually says that in front of you when you're eighteen... Well, it kind of hits you upside the head." She grabbed a couple of pot holders and brought the bowl over to the island counter. "After Daddy died, they sort of cut us off." She stirred the contents again, and went for the pasta.
"Sort of?"
Tansy grabbed a couple of plates, and dished out some pasta on them, then the chicken topping. "They tried to get me to go to Ohio, to take his ashes there. But I refused. So they cut us off." She handed him a plateful of food.
He took it without blinking an eye. "So, you have no one? Not even friends?" He watched as she added avocados to the plates.
"No."
He shook his head. Like he couldn't wrap his head around that.
"I get three reactions when people find out what I see and hear." She counted off on her fingers. "They wig out and treat me like a sideshow attraction. They avoid me like a plague. And, my favorite, they want me to hold a séance." She went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of sparkling water. "So, not a whole lot of people hang around me."
He picked up the fork, then stopped. "Then, that's their loss, not yours," he stated simply. Putting his fork down, he reached over and put his hand on hers. "I mean it. In the brief time I have known you, I see that you are an amazing person. With talents most of us could only dream of." His blue eyes bore into hers. That feeling of affection from him was getting stronger.
"Oh," she said, looking down at his large hand on hers. "I wouldn't call seeing dead people a talent." She felt her cheeks heating up, and then felt them burn when he reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"I think it is." He smiled at her. A beautiful, lopsided smile that lit up not only his face, but his eyes as well. "And your art is f*****g fantastic!"
Pride swelled in her then. No one since her parents had ever praised her for her art, or her... gift. She gave him a shy smile, and went back to her meal "Thank you," she murmured.
Matthew took a bite of food. "Damn and f**k! This is fantastic!" He put the fork down and looked at her "Tansy," he said, eyes locking with hers. "I mean it, Anyone who takes such great care in preparing their meals and drawings is someone with great talent. That drawing was pretty close to photographic with the color and detail. That is incredible."
Tansy gave him a small laugh . "If I had drawn him true to form, he would have looked dead," she remarked with scorn. "Believe me, that would not be amazing."
A grin quirked Matthew's lips. "I'm sure." He took another bite "So, how do you see them?"
"It depends upon their manner of death," she replied, getting up to get a couple of napkins.
"Meaning?" he asked taking the napkin and water.
"Meaning, if they died a natural death, then they appear as they were at the time of death. Like in their old age or ill health. Sometimes, though, they appear as they wanted others to see them; well-dressed, coiffed, make-up, and the like." She scooped up a forkful of food, put it in her mouth "Those are the peaceful ones. The ones who died violent deaths are... disturbing."
- Writer
