Spirit of Love

by Duncan, Alice

  Actually, that about summed it up. Ash hated to admit it, so he only grunted.

  “But your mistake is in thinking that Georgina is Phoebe. It’s the same mistake I made, thinkin’ Maybelle was like Laurinda O’Dell. I wasn’t about to give my heart into the keeping of another like Laurinda. Not me. Not Devlin O’Rourke. Fool! I was a damned fool! And so are you.”

  Who in hell was Laurinda O’Dell? Ash deemed it prudent not to ask.

  “Now, I knew your Phoebe, Ash Barrett, and I know Georgina Witherspoon. There never were two women as different as those two unless it was my Maybelle and Laurinda.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. And you’d see it, too, if you’d open your eyes and look. But listen here, Ash. It’s the love angle you’ve got to conquer. You’ve got to admit to yourself that you love the woman. And then you’ve got to admit it to her. Get down on your knees and beg the girl to marry you! Tell her you’ll die if she doesn’t. Tell her that if she doesn’t take you, you might as well put a bullet in your brain, because life won’t be worth living. Tell her—”

  Ash stared at the ghost, horrified. “Damned if I will!”

  “Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought you were,” cried Dev. “And I already counted you the biggest fool in the territory. Think about it!”

  Ash was through thinking. This conversation was making him queasy. He got up and dusted off his hands. “Thanks for the chat, Dev. I’ve got to go now.”

  “No! Damn you, Ash Barrett, you stay right here and listen to me!”

  “No. Blast it, Dev, I’m tired of this. Hell, I don’t even believe in you!”

  “No? Well then, believe in this!” And Devlin O’Rourke shot like an arrow from the oak branch, straight through Ash’s shoulder.

  Ash hollered in pain and astonishment.

  About that time, Georgina, who had been feeling quite proud of her independent stand on the matter of Ash Barrett and his tepid proposal, pulled the parlor curtain aside a little way to see if Shiloh still stood outside. She hadn’t heard Ash ride off, and she was curious. She was even more curious when she saw Ash standing in the small stand of live oaks out by the barn.

  “Good heavens, whatever is the matter with the man?”

  “What man?” Vernice joined her at the window. “Oh, my goodness. Poor Mr. Barrett.”

  “What’s going on?” Maybelle elbowed her way to the window. “Hmm. Drunk, most like.”

  “Drunk?” Georgina looked at Vernice, who shrugged. “He didn’t seem intoxicated when he came to the door.”

  “No he didn’t,” Vernice affirmed.

  Maybelle snorted. “Men. Damned fools, all of them. You did the right thing, Georgina. Don’t go out there and give in to him just because he’s gone crazy.”

  “Oh, do you think he’s gone crazy?” Vernice sounded concerned.

  “Doesn’t matter if he has. Don’t let Georgina go out to him. He’s not worth it.”

  Georgina pressed a hand to her cheek and wished she knew what to do. At present, Ash was flailing his arms in the air and leaping about as if he were being pursued by demons. Georgina felt some concern, since he appeared to be in pain. She hoped it wasn’t her refusal to marry him that had sent him over the edge into madness.

  She frowned and told herself not to be silly. He hadn’t wanted to marry her in the first place. He’d only proposed out of some misguided masculine code of pride or ethics or some other idiotic thing.

  As if she could read her mind, Maybelle said, “And don’t go getting any fool ideas in your head that you’re his cure, either. Make the man tell you he loves you and then make him propose properly. If you don’t, you’ll regret it all your life.”

  Georgina sighed. “I don’t expect he ever will, Grandmother.”

  “Fiddlesticks. He will when he starts using his heart along with his head. Men! They think the two are disconnected.”

  “And they aren’t?”

  “Hell, no! They’re all bound up together.” Maybelle went back to the chair, where she’d been knitting a lap robe for Vernice.

  “Hmmm.” Georgina and Vernice stared at the spectacle Ash was making of himself for another few moments. Then Georgina said, “Well, I don’t suppose watching him dance around is getting the dinner cooked “

  “No,” agreed Vernice without much enthusiasm. “I don’t suppose it is. She watched for another second and burst out, “Oh, but Mother, do you really think the poor man is all right?’’

  Maybelle snorted again. “He’s as all right as he’s ever been, which isn’t saying much.”

  Georgina, bowing to her grandmother’s superior knowledge of the masculine gender, let the curtain drop and returned to the kitchen where she’d been chopping onions. She worried about Ash, although she knew she probably shouldn’t.

  In the meantime, Ash was having a very bad time out there under the oak trees. Devlin O’Rourke, shouting at him the whole time, shot through and around him like so many freezing cold thrusts of a lance.

  “Hey!” Ash bellowed. “Stop that! It hurts!”

  “It’ll hurt a damned sight worse if you don’t unbend and tell that woman how you feel about her!” And with a whoosh, he shot through Ash’s chest.

  “Ow! Confound it, stop it!”

  “I’m not going to stop it until you stop trying to get away from me!” Zoom, he shot through Ash’s other shoulder, making him spin around and clutch his arm.

  “You’re killing me!”

  “Tosh! I couldn’t kill you if I wanted to. I’m only teaching you a lesson. And it’s a lesson you need!” And with a zip, Dev lanced through both of Ash’s knees, sideways, making them buckle.

  Ash collapsed, drew his knees to his chest, turned over, and tried to hide. It was no use Dev only hovered above him for a second or two and then, with a whump, he rocketed through Ash’s entire body—back, stomach, knees, the hands clutching them, and all. At last Ash gave up. He didn’t want to do it, but he couldn’t fight a ghost. He’d never realized until this minute that ghosts fought almost as dirty as did women.

  “Truce!” he hollered. “Uncle! I give! I’ll stay and hear you out!”

  “That’s better” Dev sounded out of breath, which made no sense, although he wasn’t up to pursuing the matter. Ash was not happy. It galled him to give in to a ghost, especially one who used means Ash couldn’t combat, in order to achieve his aims. He waited until Dev had settled himself back on the oak branch, then tried to rise. His body protested mightily

  “Dammit! What the hell did you do to me?”

  “Merely a little ghostly persuasion boyo. You’ll be all right in a few minutes. Why don’t you just lie back and relax whilst I try to knock some sense into your head.”

  Perceiving no alternative, Ash rolled onto his back and tentatively flexed his limbs. Shoot, they felt like jelly. His arms flopped at his sides at last, although he felt no inclination to lift them. He hoped his strength would return eventually. In the meantime, he kept his knees bent because they didn’t seem to want to straighten.

  “Now,” said the ghost, settling back into what looked like a damnably comfortable position to Ash, who could only squint into the oak branches from flat on his back. “It’s like this. You can try to fool yourself for years, lad, but it won’t wash. You love the girl. If you don’t believe me or don’t want to admit it, think about how you’d feel if you were to see her marry that pasty-faced banker fellow.”

  “Which one?”

  “What does it matter? Either one would do.”

  Ash grunted, the vision too appalling for him to consider without feeling sick. “She wouldn’t marry him. She already told him so.”

  “Oh? And what about next month? Will she still feel the same way when she’s got him declarin’ his devotion to her every five minutes? When you won’t even admit to liking her, much less needing her?”

  “Needing her?” God, what an awful thought.

  “Yes, you fool. Needing her. Like you need sunshin
e and water and food. It’s the same thing. It’s the way I needed Maybelle and wouldn’t tell her. Now look at me.”

  Ash did and wasn’t comforted. Also he was beginning to feel more than a little abused and mistreated. At least he could stretch his legs out now so he did. He still couldn’t stand up. “Wait a minute here, Dev. If you’re so all-fired in love with love, why in blazes didn’t you tell Maybelle so before now?”

  “I’m tellin’ ya, lad! It’s because I was as much of a damned fool as you are!”

  “Blast it why don’t you tell her now? What’s stopping you?”

  “She is, dammit! She won’t believe a word I say anymore, because she’s mad at me for dyin’ before I told the truth. Now she won’t listen to me at all!”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “Pisht!” Dev waved an arm in the air in a gesture of supreme frustration. “You know it’s stupid, and I know it’s stupid. And I’d be surprised if Maybelle didn’t know it was stupid, but you’re dealin’ with Murphys here, lad.”

  “Georgina’s a Witherspoon,” Ash pointed out reasonably.

  “Bunkum. She’s a Murphy inside, and that’s what counts. There’s no talking to a Murphy once they get their minds made up. They’re a stubborn lot, the Murphys, and there’s no swaying them unless they want to be swayed. Maybelle’s so mad at me, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to rest in peace.”

  Ash had a discouraging notion that Dev was right about the innermost part of Georgina. The notion didn’t make him happy at all. “Well, hell.”

  “You can ‘well, hell’ for the rest of your life, and it won’t change things. Tell me the truth. You love the girl, don’t you?”

  Ash’s stomach clenched. Then his teeth ground together. Then his head ached. Then his heart gave a hard, vicious spasm. He hated this. He hated it so much he almost choked on it.

  Dev watched from his oak branch, his expression mild, but interested. “Do you see how it is, lad? You were burned so badly by Phoebe that you daren’t love another female. But it’s too late. You already do. Might as well give up the struggle, boyo, because it’s no use. I know.”

  He sounded gloomy, which, for the first time in their brief acquaintance, made him fit Ash’s prior perception of what a ghost should sound like.

  Georgina was getting fidgety. “I don’t like it, Aunt Vernice.”

  “What’s that, dear?”

  Georgina looked over to where Vernice sat, placidly crocheting. Dinner preparations were over and the stew was bubbling on the stove. But every blasted time Georgina looked out of the parlor window, she saw Ash.

  First he’d been behaving like a lunatic, waving his arms and flailing around as if he were trying to avoid being stung by a swarm of yellow jackets. A few minutes later when she peeked outside, he’d been lying flat on his back in the middle of the oak grove, talking to himself. This time when she glanced toward the stand of oaks, he’d managed to sit up and was leaning against a big oak trunk He still appeared to be babbling to himself, though.

  As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, Georgina found herself worrying about him. After all, he was the only man who’d ever moved her to sin. And—she hated admitting this even more—she loved him.

  Drat the luck! Of all the men in the world, why it had to be Ash, of all prickly people, with whom she’d fallen in love was the great mystery of her life. And unless things changed drastically, it was destined to remain a mystery. Piffle. Georgina felt very put-upon.

  “Mr. Barrett,” she said to Vernice. “He’s sitting out there under a tree, and it looks like he’s talking to himself.”

  Maybelle, who still worked on the lap robe, snorted. “Hell, he’s probably been attacked by Dev. You know how those two loved to talk when Dev was alive. Dev’s probably out there telling Ash all about how awful women are. Ha!”

  Georgina glanced over her shoulder at her grandmother, stricken by the wisdom that occasionally came from the old woman’s lips. “I wondered about that possibility, Grandmother. But—well—wouldn’t I be able to see Mr. O’Rourke if he was there?”

  Maybelle looked up, her beady bird’s eyes alive with mischief. “And how long did you live here before he showed himself to you, Georgina? The man’s a devil as well as a ghost. If he doesn’t want us to see him, we won’t see him, blast his soul to perdition.”

  “Mother!” Vernice tutted.

  Georgina was past being shocked by her grandmother’s free use of profanity. “Oh. That’s right, Grandmother. I forgot.”

  She peeked out the window again Ash was still there, sitting under the oak tree, and his lips still moved. He was gesturing now as well. “I wonder how he does that—appearing and not appearing and so forth.”

  “Humph,” muttered Maybelle. “I don’t care how he does it. I wish he’d stop.”

  Georgina heaved a sigh. “Perhaps they’re discussing things out there and will come to some vast conclusions that will make all of our lives easier.”

  Vernice and Maybelle both looked up from their needlework, their faces twin pictures of incredulity. Georgina noticed them and laughed. “Oh, all right. That’s too much to expect from a couple of men, I suppose.”

  “You suppose? Ha!” Maybelle snorted again and went back to her knitting. Vernice, always the demure one, only shook her head and smiled gently.

  With another sigh, Georgina let the curtain drop. She didn’t know what she wished for; whether she wanted Ash to stay there so she could keep an eye on him, or go away so she wasn’t tormented by the sight of him. Every time she saw him, she longed for things she couldn’t have. His love, for one thing. A life together, for another. And children. She’d love to have his children. She’d wager he’d be a good father. Strict, but loving.

  Georgina shook her head to rid herself of those hopeless dreams and went back to the kitchen, where she was supposed to be stirring the rice pudding. She hadn’t stirred it enough, and she had to scrape some burned junk from the sides of the pot, but she guessed that was all right. A little burn added flavor, according to her grandmother.

  She laughed out loud when she realized how much she’d come to cherish her cantankerous grandmother.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “All right, dammit!” Ash cried, defeated. “I love her! Now will you leave me the hell alone?”

  “No.” Devlin O’Rourke crossed his arms over his chest and continued staring stubbornly at Ash.

  With a huge sigh, Ash pushed himself to his feet. Thank God his body worked again. He’d begun to wonder if it would ever recover from Dev’s energetic haunt. He groaned as he tested his limbs and they protested. “What am I supposed to do to get rid of you?”

  “Tell the woman you love her and beg her to marry you. Get down on your knees if you have to, but tell her. Tell her you can’t go on living without her. Tell her the truth, lad.”

  “It’s not the truth that I won’t go on living if she doesn’t marry me,” Ash muttered, feeling bitterly imposed upon.

  Dev threw up his ghostly arms. “Don’t you have the least speck of Irish in your soul, Ash?”

  “No.”

  “Not even a hint of the poet?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  The ghost swooped down and landed directly in front of Ash, who leaped backward several paces. He wished Devlin wouldn’t do that.

  “Do you have to take every single word a body says literally?”

  “You aren’t what I’d call a body.”

  “Nit-picking. You’re nit-picking, but what I’m telling you is the most important lesson you’ll ever hear in your life, boyo. If you don’t learn it now, it’ll probably be too late.”

  After heaving a gigantic sigh, Ash mumbled, “Go on.” He guessed there was no way out of it now.

  “Tell the woman you love her. Because it’s the truth, even if you wouldn’t literally die if she won’t have you. The fact is you love her as you were never able to love Phoebe, because Phoebe wasn’t who you thought she was.”


  “And Georgina is?”

  “Yes! Use your eyes and brain, Ash! She’ll never let you down the way Phoebe did, because she’s not projecting a false front.”

  Ash could vouch for that part. Her front was her own, every succulent inch of it. He wished he could revisit it, in fact. He sighed again, wishing this was over, and Georgina was his, and he didn’t have to go through all of this hogwash.

  “And here’s another truth. If Georgina condescends to marry you, she’ll be your best earthly companion and solid life’s mate for the rest of her life. She won’t shrink from a bit of work or balk at the notion of exercise in bed.”

  Ash had already noticed that, as well. He wished he hadn’t. The reaction he experienced every time he thought about what he and Georgina had done yesterday was about to kill him.

  “So go on Ash. Beg her if you have to. Tell her you know you’re unworthy to kiss the ground she walks on and that you’ll never know a moment’s peace if she won’t take you.”

  Perceiving the exaggeration in Dev’s declaration—after all he had to sleep sometimes, and if that wasn’t peace, Ash didn’t know what was—he grumbled, “I don’t know about this, Dev.”

  “Pisht, Ash, you’re a hard case. Do as I tell you. You’ll regret it forever if you don’t.”

  “I already regret it,” Ash muttered. Something occurred to him. “Wait a minute. You keep telling me I’m supposed to make an ass of myself—”

  “Nonsense! That isn’t true, and you know it!”

  “Hmm. At any rate, you keep telling me I’m supposed to tell Georgina I love her—”

  “Because it’s the truth.”

  “Hang the truth, dammit! I already admitted that part, didn’t I? I’m trying to ask you a question!”

  Dev waved an airy hand. “Ask away.”

  “Why the hell don’t you go tell Maybelle you love her, if that’s all there is to it?”