Snatching up her breakfast dishes from the table, she stalked off into the kitchen.
Her friend followed closely behind her. “Wait a minute. You can’t very well fight the...the supernatural. You’ve been saying so yourself for the past couple of weeks. The ghost has chosen to come to you for a reason. You have to let this thing play out.”
“Not if I have any choice in the matter.” Lara spun around to face her. “Would you want a ghost calling the shots in your love life? Trying to judge whether Mark and I might actually have something worthwhile between us is hard enough without wondering whether a ghost is meddling in our business. Maybe Geoffrey even contrived somehow for us meet in the first place. Maybe he has other tricks up his sleeve. What sort of powers does a ghost have, anyway?”
“Oh, come on.” Di tilted her head to one side. “No one but you is calling the shots. Whether a ghost is trying to influence you or not, you’ll always have your own free will. In fact, if you let your fears take over now, you won’t be living your life the way you want to, anyway.”
The argument struck a nerve with Lara, but she didn’t want to admit it to herself. Turning back around, she began rinsing off dishes in the sink.
“When Ron left,” Di went on, “you said you’d never let anyone else hold you back again. Doesn’t that include Geoffrey Vereker? Damn it, Lara, don’t be afraid of him. Take hold of the reins yourself.”
She stopped with her plate and sponge poised under the running water. Was it true that she was letting the ghost get the best of her?
Di rushed out into the hall and came back carrying the cordless phone. She held out the receiver. “Here. Call Mark and find out the whole story. Then you can determine for yourself what this all means and where you stand with him.”
Staring at the phone, she considered her friend’s arguments. Yes, Di was right. If nothing else, it was time to get everything out in the open. She might well end up telling both Verekers off, but then at least she’d have the satisfaction of knowing she’d faced up to them.
“Okay, I’ll call him.” She turned off the faucet and dried her hands on a dish towel. “But don’t bother getting your hopes up. I want this thing settled once and for all--but not necessarily the way you’d like.”
Di handed her the phone.
She punched the digits into the pad. The phone at the other end of the line rang. She took a deep breath, willing her jumpy stomach to calm down.
After only one ring, Mark picked up. “Hello?”
Hearing his voice again affected her more than she expected. The sound of his smooth baritone had always been enough to make her heart flutter, though after everything that had happened, she should have been immune to it. She swallowed her emotions. “Hi, Mark, it’s me.”
“Lara.” Her name rushed out of him, almost like a sigh. He sounded relieved to hear from her, but she couldn’t be sure what his motives were. Maybe he just didn’t want to come off looking like the bad guy. That didn’t mean he wasn’t.
Steeling her expression and, she hoped, her tone, she said, “I agree with you that we need to talk. When would be a good time for you to get together with me?”
“I can be at your place in ten minutes, as long as that works for you.”
She hesitated but saw no reason to put off the meeting. “That’ll be fine. I’ll see you then.”
“See you--and thanks.”
He didn’t have any reason to thank her, but she didn’t bother pointing it out. Frowning, she hung up without responding. Di was watching her, so she said without excitement, “He’s coming right over.”
“Then I’ll get out of your way--unless you need me to help you get ready.”
She shook her head. “I’m not making any sort of fuss for him.”
“Fair enough.” Di picked up her purse from the counter top. Hooking the strap over her shoulder, she said, “If you have a chance later tonight, please give me a call and let me know how things work out. I promise not to put any more pressure on you if you still think he’s not right for you. Despite my penchant for matchmaking, I wouldn’t want to see you stuck in another relationship that’s less than you deserve.”
“Thanks.”
Lara saw her to the door and watched through the window until her friend’s car pulled out of sight. There was no sign of Mark yet. Only a few minutes had passed...but every second dragged.
She turned away and looked around the kitchen. What could she do to keep busy while she waited for him? Knowing she would need to discuss the ghost with him as well as their relationship, she acknowledged that she probably should read Geoffrey’s latest poem.
Returning to the dining room, she sat down at the table and opened the envelope again. She took out both sheets of paper and placed the second page on top. Di had been right; it looked as new as the sheet Mark had written on. Smoothing out the poem, she prepared herself as well as she could to read something unsettling.
She felt very cynical as she began skimming the lines. Di seemed to have been right about the reference to Mark and her, too. Lara presumed the ghost had written the verses in the last day or so--not that the belief convinced her to consider his advice. She wasn’t about to stake her love life on guidance offered by the spirit of a man who’d probably never really known love himself.
When she read the final couplet, however, a wisp of cold air grazed the nape of her neck and sent a shiver down her spine. She thought of part of the poem he’d shown her yesterday: “But, cherished lady, sometimes I wonder, Whether to save myself or go under...”
He did love Mariah, she thought. He was just too afraid to admit it. The intensity of her impression made her believe her perception was true. Furthermore, she imagined that Geoffrey must have had plenty of time to think about what he’d done to Mariah and how both of them had suffered because of his fear of commitment.
Of course, that still didn’t mean that she and Mark were meant to be together.
A banging at the front door made her start, and she bumped her knee on the leg of the table. “Ow!”
He was here.
Standing up, she paused and looked around the room. Everything was perfectly still, and she didn’t detect any further coldness.
“I’ll talk to him,” she said to the air, “but I’m not promising anything more than that.”
Without waiting for a response from the ghost, she went to answer the door.
Chapter 19
Geoff was rather shocked when Lara addressed him. She didn’t say his name, of course, but no one else was in the room. He hadn’t meant to make his presence known, but he was in such a state of anxiety that he must have been more detectable than usual. Though he’d been keeping his distance from her physically, he obviously emanated a chill strong enough for her to feel.
After his initial astonishment dimmed, he noted that she seemed to be outgrowing her fear of him. He thanked heaven for that. Now of all times, the last thing he needed was to upset her unwittingly. At this critical moment for her and Mark, he couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong. He had a feeling this was the only chance he’d ever get to redress the worst of all he’d done wrong during his life.
As she turned to leave the dining room, he forced himself to hang back and add to his distance from her, just in case. He couldn’t risk another mistake. Emotion charged through him like current through a wire, and if he got any more agitated, he might even become visible. He’d never materialized during daylight before, but there was a first time for everything.
When she’d moved out of sight, he floated into the hallway after her, anxious to see how she would greet his descendant. As she progressed toward the door, he stayed back about two yards behind her.
To his surprise, she suddenly stopped and spun around. She rushed back toward him, forcing him to shoot up above her head, still afraid his touch might disturb her. He narrowly missed contact with her as she passed under him.
What in damnation was she doing?
He watched as she
turned back into the dining room. Had she changed her mind about seeing Mark? Surely not after she’d just said she would talk to him!
Oh, but women are a fickle lot. Wringing his hands, Geoff flew after her. For generations women had claimed that changing their minds was their prerogative. What on earth was he going to do to get this matter back on course?
As he entered the room, she snatched up the two sheets of paper on the table. Immediately she turned back toward the hallway.
Good Lord! She’d only wanted to fetch Mark’s letter and his own poem.
Once again he rocketed out of her way just before she crossed paths with him. Her gait had quickened now.
Geoff sighed and clapped his right hand over his chest, where his heart had once raced under such circumstances. For a moment he’d thought all was lost. The stark terror he’d felt showed him more than ever how much he was depending on the mortals to save him.
Trying hard to calm himself, he glided into the hallway a second time.
Lara had stopped before the closed front door, glancing down at the papers in her hand. Recalling her lack of reaction to his poem, Geoff regretted how little his words had affected her. To break Mariah’s curse, he needed to “advance” Lara and Mark’s love, and he hadn’t made any impression on her. Thank goodness his descendant had shown a far greater response upon finding the poem. Geoff only hoped the part he’d played in bringing about this meeting would be enough to serve his purpose.
“We shall see...” an otherworldly feminine voice whispered, seemingly close by.
Mariah? He froze in place, darting looks all around the foyer. His former lover was nowhere to be seen, but this time he knew she was present. If he’d needed further evidence of the significance of the occasion, he had it now. Clearly this was the defining moment in his ghosthood.
He clasped his palms together and pressed his thumbs against his mouth, almost as if in prayer. If he’d thought any god would listen to a vile creature like him, indeed he would have tried praying. But at the moment it was Mariah’s forgiveness he needed--or he could never forgive himself.
Lara reached for the door handle, and Geoff sucked in his ethereal breath.
* * * *
Despite her determination to talk to Mark, Lara didn’t quite feel ready for the confrontation. With her hand on the door handle, she paused to gather up her courage. It was bad enough that there might be a ghost watching over her shoulder--but she actually didn’t care much about that now. This might well be the last time she and Mark ever spoke to each other, and it was bound to be a rough conversation.
Even after all the trouble he’d given her, she would hate to say good-bye. Thoughts of better times with him ricocheted through her mind--the nice inscription he’d written for her in his book, the day they’d spent in the village upstate... He had really worked his way into her heart.
Then she remembered their last encounter, when she’d realized she hadn’t known him as well as she’d thought.
She pulled the door open and took in his appearance with a glance. With his face unshaven and his hair disheveled, he looked as though he’d had a bad couple of days, yet he still managed to come off as sexy as hell. The sight of him brought an unexpected lump to her throat.
“Hi,” he said with an uneven smile.
“Hello.” She swallowed down the lump, wishing he didn’t look so self-conscious--so seemingly innocent. The worst thing she could do was feel sorry for him. She needed to be strong. Turning her gaze away from his, she said over her shoulder, “Come on in.”
Without looking back, she led him through the parlor. Neither of them said a word. When she entered the studio, she glanced back and saw him looking at the couch--the spot where they’d first made love. The muscles in her abdomen tightened painfully.
Purposely avoiding the second-hand monstrosity, she sat at one of the stools at the drawing table. She tossed his letter and Geoffrey’s poem on top of one of her sketch books, then turned around to face the center of the room.
He took the stool beside her, so they were now in the same positions they’d been in for their first argument. Since that day, they seemed to have come full circle.
She looked over at him and noticed his fists were clenched in his lap.
After a long moment he said, “I wish I knew where to start.”
Again, she felt a tug of empathy. He looked so damned miserable--but looks could be deceiving, and going easy on him would definitely be a mistake. She had ignored the early signs of Ron’s problems and wound up crushed by him. If she let Mark steamroll over her, too, she’d have no excuse for her stupidity.
She leaned back against the table and folded her arms across her chest. Reluctant to show him how deeply he’d hurt her, she thought the best approach would be to keep the conversation as impersonal as possible.
“Why don’t we discuss your ancestor’s poem?” she said without much interest in her voice. “I’d just finished reading it when you came to the door.”
Meeting her gaze with surprising steadiness, he cleared his throat. “What did you think?”
While he waited for her to respond, he looked as though he were holding his breath.
She wondered what he expected of her--some sort of praise for the writing--or a show of awe about the ghostly phenomenon? At this point she didn’t have that kind of enthusiasm for anything.
“I think Geoffrey should mind his own business,” she said in an irritated tone.
He watched her for another moment, then looked away. Getting up from his stool, he wandered toward the back of the room. “I think he would, if he had a choice. He probably doesn’t want to be mixed up with us any more than we want to be with him.”
She thought about this point and frowned to herself. The idea hadn’t occurred to her that the ghost was stuck with them, too, but she supposed he was. Thinking back on all she had learned about Geoffrey, she believed he must be sorry for the wrongs he’d done. He’d ended up marrying an insensitive woman who’d probably made his life miserable, and now he was doomed to unrest.
For the first time since she’d found out he was the one who’d deserted Mariah, Lara felt sorry for him. He would certainly have a long time to repent giving up the woman who might have shown him how to love. A chance for love didn’t come that often.
Mark stepped closer to the back of the room, and his movement caught her eye.
She had thought she’d had a chance for love with him. A trickle of worry seeped into her head. Would she come to regret dismissing Mark from her life? Might she someday wish she’d given him another chance?
When he turned around to look at the bookcases lining the wall, his actions made her feel nervous, and she dropped her line of thought. The entrance to the secret room was closed--as well as it would close--but thinking about the ghost had brought back her eerie feelings about the spot.
He stooped and started to examine the area around the base of the entrance, and her uneasiness changed to annoyance. Even now, with their relationship coming to an end, he was more interested in her house than in her!
“What are you doing?” she snapped at him.
“Just checking out a few things.” He stood back up, tiptoeing and stretching his neck to look around at the tops of the bookcases. “Would you mind if I opened up the entrance?”
“Yes, I would.” She jumped off her stool. “I thought we were having a conversation, but, as usual, all you can think about is this house.”
He turned around to face her. “I’m sorry. This has to do with my idea for your studio.”
She pursed her lips, unconvinced.
“Please, Lara, just give me a few minutes, and then I’ll explain everything.”
When she didn’t answer, his shoulders sagged, but he didn’t give up. “Aren’t you even curious about what I have in mind?”
She wasn’t really, but since she’d said pretty much all she cared to about the ghost, she supposed they might as well move onto another topic. “Okay, chec
k whatever you want to, as long as I don’t have to go into the secret room with you.”
“No problem.”
While she stood back watching him, he triggered the mechanism and the case ground across the floor. He spent another moment looking at the perimeters of the area, then disappeared behind the wall.
The lump in her throat rose again.
Within seconds he popped back out and grinned at her. “It’s exactly like I thought.”
She felt another pang of resentment that he could be so happy when she felt like her world was crumbling. “What are you talking about?”
“The secret room isn’t an original part of the house. This wall was added later. When the house was built, this area was one huge room--maybe a ballroom.” He motioned toward the row of bookcases. “If you tore these down--or, preferably, moved them elsewhere--it would add an extra ten feet or so onto the studio. Once you unblock the window in there, you’ll even have more light. I think this room could really be fantastic.”
She stared at him, letting the idea slowly sink in. To her amazement, she agreed with him. Adding what was now the secret room onto the studio would give her loads of space to work in. The extra expanse even had another fireplace. The finished room would be beautiful, and she wouldn’t have to destroy the house to get it.
“Wow,” she said.
“When you tell the historical society you want to restore the house to its original floor plan, I’m sure they’ll approve your grant.” His smile faded a little, and he looked at her more seriously. “As for the zoning board, I’m really sorry about that disaster, but I promise you won’t have any further problems with them. I’ve spoken to the board chairman about your studio.”
“Really?” A new bud of hope opened inside her.
He nodded. “It was the least I could do. In fact, I should have done it weeks ago, when I inadvertently started up the rumor mill with my slip of tongue. It’s just that with everything that’s been happening between you and me, that conversation with Karen was the last thing on my mind.”
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