Entry by Anonymous Willow
For Day Three “Are We Lost!”
It was hot out, the sun reaching down to smack everyone who dared step outside. Even being in the shade wasn’t enough. Beetlejuice was pretty sure he’d seen a sign post start drooping, and all the heat waves coming up from the asphalt were causing mirages.
“Are we lost?” Beetlejuice tapped the bench arm, watching Lydia stare at the bus route map.
“No!” she snapped without looking at him.
Yeah… they were lost. He could see her anxiety in the way she shifted her feet and clenched her hands in her pockets. “Ya know, I could just… poof us there. Just say the word and we’ll be at your granny’s house!”
She glared over her shoulder at him. He really shouldn’t find that as sexy as he did, but, well… he was a horny s.o.b. and he didn’t mind admitting it. Besides, what man wouldn’t be a little turned on? There she was, wearing shorts and a black tank top, showing off those slim curves and gorgeous skin while hiding all the really interesting bits, glaring at him with big eyes the color dark coffee.
“You told me,” she said, slowly and carefully, “that you could only go to places you’ve been to, or are so important that they act like beacons.”
“Yeah. That’s how it works,” he agreed. It was kind of creepy how she remembered all the stuff he spouted off. Creepy, but in a good way.
“You’ve never been to my grandma’s house.”
“So… how would you get us there?”
He drew a blank. Snorting, she turned back around to stare at the map some more. “That’s what I thought.”
“Come on, Babes,” he groaned, slumping down on the bench. “It’s too friggin’ hot! At least let me take us somewhere cooler! Just a quick trip to the arctic, then we’ll be right back!”
“You’re the one who decided to wear a full suit in July, you nutjob,” she said.
“Got a job you could do with these nuts,” he muttered, shifting in his seat.
“Wanna repeat that louder?”
“Just said good job I’m not dressed like a slut, otherwise, um, people would be trying to pick me up. Ya know, ‘cause we’re on a street corner?”
She glanced back at him, eyebrow raised, and he squirmed. “Shut up.”
“You were thinking it loud enough.” Time for a subject change! “Look, I got an idea. Come sit down.” He patted the spot next to him.
Lydia considered for a moment, then came over and sat down with a sigh. “I’m only sitting because the next bus doesn’t come for an hour,” she told him.
“Whatever makes you happy, Babes,” he said, conjuring them both a glass of icy lemonade.
“Oh, I want that,” she groaned, taking the glass and putting it against her forehead.
He waited until they both had drunk most of their glass before he said, “Now tell me about your granny. You’ve told me stuff and shown me pictures, and I heard her on the phone, but you haven’t told me a lot about her. She’s your mom’s mom, right?”
“Yeah,” she said, voice soft. “Grandma Beth. Elizabeth. Mom named me after her.”
He hadn’t known that. “Tell me about Grandma Beth, more than just superficial stuff.”
She eyed him sidelong. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, rolling his eyes, “you’re literally bringing me to meet her. You didn’t say that’s what we were doing, but that’s what we’re doing.” He held up his left hand and pointed at his ring finger, which sported a gold band. “Before she dies, I’m betting.”
Lydia’s cheeks turned scarlet with temper, but she didn’t actually refute the claim. He nodded smugly. “So, tell me about Granny Beth.”
She took a deep breath, then started telling him. She told him about how she would spend summers with her grandparents in Illinois, and how it was there she’d learned to love photography, sewing, and things from the past. The farm house didn’t have cable TV and the tiny TV it did have barely worked, so she’d spent all her time outside playing with the neighbors or, more usually, by herself in the nearby woods. But Grandma Beth had always been willing to play with her when she’d asked. So had Grandpa John, before he’d died. When that happened, Emily had wanted Grandma Beth to come live in New York with her, but the old woman had declined. She’d been born in that house, she intended to die there.
“I spent too long away,” Lydia said, shoulders drooping. “I haven’t gone back since Mama died. I should’ve been there with Grandma Beth.” She wasn’t looking at him, and he knew just by that she was on the verge of tears. Lydia hated crying in front of people, even him. "And now, I try to get there, and I get lost."
“Hey now,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, it’s been awhile, but you’re gonna be there now. We can stay as long as you like. Hell, we can move there, if you want. Anything you want." That last bit was more needy than he'd like to admit.
She laughed a little and leaned into him. “Let’s see how a visit goes first.”
He fished her phone out of her bag and opened her photos, flicking until he got to the ones she'd showed him. There was his girl, except much younger, standing in front of what he thought was the most stereotypical farm house in the world. There were even chickens in the background. Standing with Lydia was an old woman, thin and stringy, but with the same careworn dignity as the house. She would've been a knockout in her youth, he judged. He also noticed that she and Lydia had the same dark eyes.
"Tell me about this picture," he said. "Take me back to that day."
She gave him an odd look, but did. "It was just an ordinary day there. July, like it says, so it was hot, but the lighting was really good so we decided to try out the timer on my new phone." Her smile was wry and nostalgic. "We used an old camera tripod."
"What did it smell like?"
"What?!" she laughed, sitting up so she could stare at him.
"You heard me. Pretend you're writing a poem or some shit like that and draw me a picture."
"With scent. You're really mixing your metaphors there, Beej."
He rolled his eyes. "You're drawing with scented markers then. Now get talking."
Still chuckling, she obliged. "Like I said, it was hot, just like today. There were heatwaves over the fields, and it was the humid sort of hot. There's a stream on the other side of the road, so you can hear it from the front of the house. You can hear the sounds of the animals, chickens and goats, and one cow, Maisy. I don't know if she's still alive though." She wrinkled her nose. "You can smell them too. Animal smells and manure. Not great. But the green smell from the fields… that smells amazing. And so does Grandma Beth's cooking. Her whole house smells like baking, and you can smell it from the road if you try."
He nodded, picturing it in his head. Yeah… he thought he could just about grab hold.
"Oh, there's the bus!" she said, pointing excitedly. "If we take this one, it'll get us back on track, I'm sure this time."
"Got a better idea." He got up and pulled her after him, grabbing her bag. Bag secured, he pulled her against him. "Gimme a kiss."
"What?" she squawked. "Right now?"
"You heard me," he growled, wrapping an arm around her so she couldn't escape. "Come on. Least you could do as recompense for getting us lost."
"Recompense," she drawled. "That's a big word, BJ."
"Oh shut up," he said, then shut her up with a kiss. He waited until she had put her arms around his neck before he teleported them to Grandma Beth's. With the picture Lydia had painted him with words and emotion, he could sense it, a faint little beacon.
When he finally let her come up for air, he was grinning and Lydia had a slightly dazed look on her face. He loved seeing that look on her face, almost as much as he loved the little cat's smile she got after—
He snapped out of his brief daydream to see her dazed look had been replaced by shock as she looked around them. Cued in, he looked too, and was more than a little smug to see he'd put them smack on the dirt road in front of Grandma Beth's.
"I'm the ghost with the most, baby!" He puffed his chest out and tucked his thumbs under his suspenders. She squealed, bouncing up up and down, then threw herself at him and kissed him until his head spun.
“Hey you, kids! What are you doing smooching on my road?!” The querulous voice broke them apart, though Beetlejuice was a lot more reluctant to let go than Lydia. She squirmed enough that he finally released her, letting her slide down him and turn to face the old woman standing on the wrap around porch.
“Grandma Beth! It’s me, Lydia! I called and told you I was coming, remember!”
Grandma Beth’s eyes widened and she hurried (as well as an old woman could hurry), down the steps. Lydia met her there, embracing her grandmother. Beth hugged her back, just as tight.
Beetlejuice lingered on the road, both to give them privacy and to give himself a moment to calm down. He did not want to greet Lydia’s beloved grandmother with a boner.
Finally, Lydia and Beth separated, both of them wiping their eyes and pretending they weren’t crying.
Eyes clear, Beth looked over Lydia’s shoulder and those dark eyes narrowed. He couldn’t help but grin. It was uncanny to see Lydia’s suspicious eyes on another woman’s face. Hiking up Lydia’s bag, he ambled up the front walk and stuck his hand out. “BJ Shoggoth. I’m Lydia’s boytoy— I mean, fiance.”
Beth raised her eyebrows, looking him up and down, then took his hand. Her hand was strong and callused, despite the thin skin and bony fingers. “Are you now? I knew our Lydia would choose someone as strange and unusual as her.”
Beetlejuice didn’t think he could grin any wider, but somehow he managed it. “Lady, I’m a thousand times stranger than she is, believe me.”
“Young man, I think I just might. Now, both of you come inside. It’s too hot out.” She looked up and down the road, frowning. “How did you get here? Where is your car?”
“We, uh, we walked the last little way. Hitch hiked,” Beetlejuice said quickly when he saw Lydia floundering for an answer.
Beth’s wrinkled face wrinkles even more. “Oh my. That’s dangerous.”
“Not with BJ around,” Lydia said with a smile at him, linking her arm with her grandmother’s and leading her inside. “He keeps me safe.”
“Always,” he promised. Lydia reaches back with her free hand. He takes it in his and follows after her.
