He set the letter down on the coffee table and polished off the last of the wine. Finding the letter had done him good. Earlier in the evening he’d told Lara that matters weren’t always black and white, yet until now he had painted his ancestor that way. Now he suspected that Geoff’s passions ran as deep as anyone’s. He, Mark, had been the shallow one, clinging to his childhood impressions. With any luck, tonight’s experience had helped him grow up.
As he carried the glasses into the kitchen, it occurred to him that this new letter might alleviate Lara’s disappointment, too. Geoff’s unsent vows would prove to her that Mariah Sulley had meant more to him than the miscellaneous fans whose letters he’d saved.
He decided he would take the note to her in the morning and went to bed feeling satisfied. As he drifted off to sleep, life seemed to make more sense than it had in a long time.
* * * *
In contrast, Geoff endured a restless night--a fitting ending for a miserable day. Lara’s decrying her admiration for him had been enough to make him feel dismal, but then she’d refused to read the poem he’d tried to place in front of her and, finally, actually demanded that he leave her house. Not wanting to deny a lady’s wishes, he had gone back to Mark’s--only to have his descendant find that mortifying letter he’d written to Mariah a century ago.
Geoff had hovered above, straining to read his own long-forgotten words. As the note came back to him, so did memories of the day he’d written it, one of the most distressing of his life. He recalled sitting in his study for two or three hours, debating whether or not to go to Baltimore and leave Mariah behind. Even then he’d known that if he went he would never come back to her. He was too afraid. Once--as a mere lad--he’d confessed his naive love to a woman. His older, married lover had laughed in his face.
That was why in the end he had gone to Baltimore, eager to break Mariah’s spell over him.
Watching Mark pore over the letter had embarrassed Geoff. He’d never shared his feelings for Mariah with anyone, not even her. Whether or not Mark took his words seriously he couldn’t tell, but the mortal’s attentive posture had shown that the note grabbed his attention. Geoff wondered what the letter had meant to him.
Now morning was here and Mark tucked the note into his shirt pocket as he put the finishing touches on his toilette. He combed his hair and fetched his wallet from the dresser. Unquestionably he planned to take the letter somewhere. Geoff had a notion he meant to show it to Lara, though he didn’t know why. He’d been surprised when his descendant had defended him the previous night. Could that have been his motive now?
Curious, he followed Mark out into a flawless summer morning--sunny and temperate, with an occasional breeze to quicken the senses...assuming one had one’s senses. Mark stopped briefly at a bakery, where he made a purchase, then drove on to Lara’s house, as expected.
Perched above, Geoff watched him climb the steps to the porch. Mark glanced at the empty swing where the lovely divorcee had been sitting the day before, then he looked toward the house. The storm door stood open beyond the wooden screen door. Somewhere in the back of the residence, music played softly. Lara was likely working in her studio.
Mark rapped on the door frame and peered through the screen, obviously eager to see her. After a moment he tried the door. The latch didn’t budge.
He knocked again, harder, and called, “Lara, it’s me.”
“Just a minute,” a faint answer sounded in the distance.
A moment later the lady appeared in the hall. She wore a dreadful rumpled shirt that could have served as a man’s underclothing, along with tattered denim pantaloons, cut off at mid-thigh. Geoff frowned to himself. He wished she had a sense of how a woman ought to dress herself--in crisp, new satin and lace, for example, not harsh and bedraggled fabrics.
Yet as she ran a hand through her unruly curls he had to admit that, even tousled, she looked adorable.
“Mark?” She shaded her eyes against the morning sun. “What are you doing here?”
The mortal man grinned, ignoring the fact that her greeting had been less than enthusiastic. “I couldn’t resist stopping by. Hope you don’t mind. To try to make up for barging in I’ve brought doughnuts...and something else that may interest you.”
“Doughnuts?” The confusion on her face didn’t lift, but she opened the door to admit him. “Well, I suppose I could use something to go with my coffee.”
As she led him toward the kitchen Geoff floated behind them, feeling a twinge of guilt for intruding where he wasn’t wanted.
“Shall we sit out on the porch?” Mark asked.
She shot a surprised look at him over her shoulder. “You’re not in a hurry today?”
He shook his head, a sideways grin sneaking up on his lips. Their gazes locked for a moment, and something about his expression startled Geoff.
He is entranced by her, he realized. Mark’s detachment was all a hum. Geoff looked more closely into the man’s eyes and saw a spark of fire in them. His descendant had lost his heart; he was certain of it.
The knowledge alarmed him. For the first time since Mark had come upon the scene, Geoff saw him as a real threat to steal Lara away.
He watched with concern as the couple got coffee in the kitchen and carried their cups out to the porch. Mark’s gaze followed Lara’s every move, no matter how mundane her actions. Geoff couldn’t understand why the fellow maintained such an aloof manner with her if he was well on his way to love. But perhaps he had answered his own question: The idea of love was a frightening prospect. Perhaps Mark would still be cowed by it.
“So what, besides the doughnuts, did you bring that’s supposed to excite me so much?” Lara balanced her coffee in one hand and slid a small wicker table around to the front of the swing. She took a seat, steadying the swing with her foot.
Mark sat next to her and set down his cup and the bag of pastries. “Maybe I should show you now, before we get our hands sticky.”
Geoff cringed as his descendant pulled the letter to Mariah out of his pocket. He hated having his private feelings bandied about. True, he’d occasionally let a thread of raw emotion slip into his verses, but he’d certainly never meant for this intimate letter to be seen by the public--or anyone. He had to wonder why he’d even kept it.
Mark gave the paper to Lara, along with a smitten grin. “Last night you seemed to be so disappointed by Geoff’s philandering that I felt terrible, too. Maybe this will help you see him in a different light.”
Eyebrows raised, she took the letter. “Don’t count on it.”
She read it in silence, Geoff studying her face for a reaction. As her gaze skimmed down the page, her expression gradually altered from one of curiosity to one of melancholy.
On finishing, she stared blindly at the letter. He saw her blink back tears.
Mark frowned. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy to find out he cared for her after all.”
“It’s just so sad. None of this had to happen--the pain Mariah suffered, her untimely death, the curse she put on Geoffrey--”
“Wait a minute. We still don’t know how she died. And what curse are you talking about?”
“The one in the poem she wrote.” She thrust the note back at him. “It was evil of her, but she did it in the heat of anger. Unfortunately, a curse probably can’t just be taken back later.”
“So you have read the rest of that letter.” He took the paper and refolded it. “Well, the way I see it, melodrama was simply part of the belles lettres of the day. I doubt that she really believed she was sentencing a man to purgatory.”
Geoff winced. The mortal could go on fooling himself, but he knew the truth of the matter. And Lara was right about the needlessness of it all. What if he had sent the unfinished letter to Mariah, if he had stayed with her instead of going to Baltimore? How would his life had played out differently? Where would he be now, in death?
“Even without the curse,” Lara said, “you must see what a shame their story
is. Geoffrey might have been a lot happier with her than with that wife who burned his journals. I’m sorry--I know it’s your great, great grandmother, but what kind of widow does that? If he’d trusted in his feelings for Mariah, both of them might have lived longer and more meaningful lives.”
The reference to Deborah particularly stung Geoff. During his life she’d never been a partner to him, let alone a mate. Nothing had ever hurt him so much as when she’d burned his journals. Those essays had contained his life’s story, his legacy. As a ghost he was now immortal in a way, but the only immortality he’d wanted had gone up in smoke with those journals.
“Yes, I thought that, too,” Mark said.
“You did?” Lara’s gaze shot to meet his.
He nodded and set the letter on the table. “But it’s all water under the bridge now.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Geoff felt the most absurd he ever had, having his life analyzed and second-guessed, especially when the people examining his decisions seemed to see them more clearly than he ever had.
Mark twisted his mouth. After a moment he picked up the sack of baked goods and held the open end out toward Lara. “Would you like a doughnut?”
She looked into the bag and chose one iced with chocolate.
Shrugging off the worries of the world is fine for some, Geoff thought with resentment. While the mortals ate pastries he ruminated with agony over his farce of a marriage, his dissatisfaction with his family, and his current struggle for peace. He was forced to admit that the only part of his misery that he could blame on Mariah was his ghosthood; the blame for the rest of the mess lay squarely at his feet.
In fact, maybe all of the blame did. If he’d sorted out the rest of his life, Mariah might never have cursed him.
The sound of Lara’s laugh drew his attention back to the mortals.
“You’ve got powdered sugar on your nose,” she said to Mark.
“Where?” He swiped at his nose but only smeared more of the white dust on it.
She laughed again. “Now it’s worse.”
Leaning forward, she rubbed the powder off with her thumb. With their faces so close together, their gazes locked. As she stared into his eyes, her smile faded. She started to back away, but he caught her hand in his.
He bent closer and kissed her.
Geoff winced. The kiss was gentle and slow--not ardent but full of emotion, nonetheless.
When Mark pulled away, Lara looked down at her doughnut. She cleared her throat. “There’s something I need to ask you. It’s important for me to know if we’re going to keep...um, getting together like this.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
After a pause, she looked him in the eye. “Are you back together with your ex--that is, with Karen?”
As distraught as he was, Geoff found it hard to care about this turn in the conversation. Still, he noticed a flicker of a smile touch Mark’s lips before he answered.
“Of course not. Why do you ask?”
She cast her gaze downward again. “I had a feeling you were.”
“Your intuition fails you.” His grin still threatened to break, and Geoff felt a twitch of annoyance with him. The fellow might well act tickled over the lady’s interest in him. He didn’t deserve her.
Studying him, she asked, “Did you have dinner with her last night?”
The shadow of a smile faded, replaced by a look of mild surprise. He shook his head. “I ate with my parents, at their house.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.” His air changed to one of consternation. “Is there something on your mind, Lara?”
She swallowed. “I actually should have asked you last night, but I felt kind of stupid, and then we got so caught up with the letters I never got around to it.”
“To what?”
“To telling you that I almost stopped by your place yesterday afternoon. You left your watch here--oh, that reminds me.” She rolled up her sleeve and undid the buckle on a thick leather strap. Taking the watch off, she gave it to him. “I’m sorry I forgot to give it to you last night.”
“That’s okay.” He took it and wrapped the band around his wrist. “But what is it you really wanted to talk about?”
She moistened her lips. “Well, I actually drove to your apartment yesterday. But when I got there I didn’t think I should go in. I saw Karen walk into your building ahead of me carrying a casserole dish.”
“Really?” He looked up at her, and a short burst of laughter escaped him. “Well, I wasn’t home all afternoon. If Karen planned a surprise dinner, she ended up with the surprise.”
Lara watched him closely. “You would tell me if you were back together with her?”
“That’s an ‘if’ that’s never going to happen, so you don’t have to worry about it.” He smiled at her, and she held his gaze, apparently still in doubt of his word.
The scene had started to bore Geoff--then his descendant leaned forward and kissed her again. This time he met her mouth with more hunger, reaching up with his doughnut-free hand to cup her cheek. She let him part her lips with his tongue, and a soft moan escaped her.
Geoff’s jealousy soared.
For an instant he debated dumping Mark’s coffee on his lap to foil the mood, but suddenly that sort of prank seemed childish. Why should he care how these mortals conducted themselves? What did anything matter in comparison with the mess he’d made of his existence?
When Mark released Lara, she stood and seemed to have trouble meeting his gaze. “I think I’ll just top off my coffee.
Can I get you anything?”
He shook his head and, with a wistful smile, watched her walk into the house.
Geoff hovered above feeling numb. For lack of anything better to do he decided to follow Lara inside. As she walked down the main hall she looked back over her shoulder toward the porch several times.
When she reached the kitchen, the telephone rang and she jumped.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?...Oh, Diane, am I glad to hear from you....No, no, nothing’s wrong, not really. Did you make it to Cape Hatteras all right?”
She listened to the party on the other end, nodding and making sounds of understanding. “Good....That sounds great....No, it’s really not that big of a deal--or shouldn’t be, anyway.”
Peering around the corner toward the front of the house, she shielded her mouth and whispered, “Mark’s here now so I can’t talk, but he just kissed me...”
Geoff raised his eyebrows. His descendant had certainly frazzled her. He supposed Mark must have of a bit of the Vereker mystique in him somewhere.
“Well, I don’t know what to think. It’s a long story, but I’m still not completely convinced things are over with him and Karen.”
She took another peek around the corner. “Yes, well, you would say that, wouldn’t you? Listen, I know this is a weird question, but do you think womanizing runs in families?”
The ghost frowned to himself. Was that aspect of his personality the only one she’d judge him by from now on?
“No, I suppose not,” she said. “Anyway, I’d better go. Is there a number where I can call you back later?”
Jotting down the information, she promised to call that afternoon and said good-bye. She started back up the hallway but swung around and returned to the kitchen. Grabbing her cup, she slopped a few extra ounces of coffee into it and hurried back out to the porch.
“That was Di on the phone,” she said breathlessly to Mark. “They made it safely to Cape Hatteras.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” His eyes held a question that had nothing to do with her friend. Geoff knew he must be wondering how soon to try kissing her again.
“I told her I’d call her later.” Looking away from his gaze, she perched on the edge of the swing, leaving more space between them than before. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about: the ghost. I know you don’t buy the idea, but I really n
eed your help. To me it’s obvious that this problem affects both of us. For my sake, try to suspend your disbelief.”
He studied her with a sober air. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
“Well, I’ve been telling myself I don’t want anything to do with this, but I suspect we don’t have a choice. If that’s the case, we need a better picture of what’s going on.” She shifted slightly but kept her distance. “Did you ever take a closer look at the letter Mariah wrote–the one we found in the secret room?”
He frowned. “I’ve read it several times but, like I told you, I think that poem is nonsense.”
“Well, I don’t. I think the words may hold the key to finding rest for Geoffrey.”
Geoff’s ears perked up. By Jove, could she be right? The curse had been written like a riddle. He couldn’t remember how the verse went, but if there were a remedy for his circumstances, he’d wager anything that the poem contained it. He needed to see the letter again.
Mark made a face.
“I think we should take another look at it,” Lara said. “Please. Indulge me on this. What harm is there in it?”
He sighed. “I don’t like encouraging you to believe you’re being haunted, but if you really want to examine the letter, I’ll help you. Do you have the copy I gave you?”
“It’s in the studio. Will you look at it with me?”
“Might as well.” He rose. “While we’re in there, can I take another quick look at the secret room? Now that I know about the connection the place has to my ancestor, I’m curious to see it again.”
She hesitated then got up. “I guess so--as long as you don’t expect me to join you. I mean, I’ll wait in the studio in case you need me, but if something weird happens I can’t guarantee I’ll have the nerve to come in after you. I may just dial nine-one-one.”
He laughed. “In that case, I’ll only ask for your help if I need an ambulance.”
Geoff followed them into the house with as much trepidation as Lara--perhaps more. He dreaded re-entering that frightening room, but if exploring it might offer a chance at altering his wretched existence, he damned well would go through with it.
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