Spirit of Love

by Duncan, Alice

Her grandmother transferred her scowl to Ash, who reentered the room at that moment and nodded. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it as a compliment.”

  “Of course he didn’t.”

  “Who would’?” asked Ash in a friendly voice.

  Maybelle huffed

  “Don’t let them rile you, Maybelle. You’re the most wonderful woman in the entire world, and I know it even if they’re too stupid to see it.”

  “Oh, I am, am I?” Maybelle transferred her squint to Dev. She sounded as if she didn’t believe a word he said, never had, and didn’t intend to start any time soon.

  “Yes, you are.”

  Georgina wouldn’t have believed it if she didn’t see it with her own eyes, but she did. Devlin O’Rourke, smooth-talking Irishman and devil-may-care raconteur, crumpled up like a transparent wad of paper and began weeping piteously.

  “Oh, God, Maybelle, please don’t keep torturing me this way. I’m sorry I didn’t say I loved you sooner. You’ll never know how much I regret it. I’ll regret it for all eternity if you don’t relent soon! I don’t have much time left to persuade you. I begged for a chance to sway you, Maybelle. I begged until Saint Peter himself let me come back to you.”

  Maybelle looked appalled. Georgina decided she’d like to have a small chat with Saint Peter and recommend that he exercise greater regard in the future for the breathing human beings who had to live with hauntees.

  Ash said, “Good God.”

  “It’s the truth. He said I’d have a year, and no more. If you hadn’t relented by then, he said it would be too late, and I’d have to take what I get on the other side. Oh, Lord, Maybelle!” His voice rose to an eerie wail.

  He actually sounded like a ghost. Georgina wished he didn’t because it was quite an upsetting noise. She clapped her hands over her ears to block out the sound.

  Vernice appeared in the doorway. “What is that awful racket?”

  “It’s only Dev.” Ash sounded bored.

  Vernice said, “Oh,” and went back in the kitchen.

  “Is that the truth?” Maybelle didn’t sound as if she aimed to relent, but at least she was curious. Georgina took that as a good sign, and decided to add her mite.

  “My goodness, Mr. O’Rourke, do you mean you were only given an extra year? To persuade my grandmother?” She made a show of looking first at Maybelle and then back at Dev. “Saint Peter must not know her very well.”

  Ash snorted again. Georgina aimed a kick at him but missed.

  “Aye. I told him it would be a miracle if a year would do it.” Dev’s voice had lowered into a sepulchral rumble. “He said greater miracles had been achieved in a lot less time. Those miracles had been committed by saints, though, and I’m no saint.”

  “Isn’t that the truth!” This time it was Maybelle who snorted.

  “But you’re trying,” Georgina encouraged, perceiving the faintest hint of mellowing in her grandmother’s tone.

  “He’s trying, all right,” muttered Maybelle. “He’s tried me for twenty-five years now.”

  Dev sighed. “Aye, I’m trying my best, and so far I’m havin’ no luck at all.”

  “Aw, come on, Maybelle.”

  Georgina was so surprised to hear Ash break into the conversation that she spun around. Was he going to try to influence her, too? Merciful heavens.

  “You know you love the guy,” Ash continued. You always have. And he’s always loved you. It’s as plain as the nose on Frank Dunwiddy’s face. I don’t know why you’re both so stubborn about admitting it.”

  “You don’t know why?” Maybelle’s face amply expressed her sarcasm. “When it took a shotgun and the threat of never seeing Georgina again to drive you to it?”

  Ash shuffled uncomfortably. “Yes, I know I was a little hard to convince. But I did it. Now you two need to do it. If you don’t, you may never see Dev again in this life or the next, Miss Maybelle. You don’t want that, do you?”

  “Well . . .”

  “The boy’s right, Maybelle. There aren’t any guarantees otherwise. Saint Peter said that if you agree to tie the knot with me on the other side when you pass over, he’d make the arrangements. If you won’t agree to do it, he’ll hold our years of living together in sin as proof that we were merely dallying with each other.”

  “Dallying with each other? For twenty-five years?” Maybelle’s screech hurt Georgina’s ears.

  Dev held out his arms. That made him look like an angel, which was, to Georgina’s way of thinking, even more incongruous than his being a ghost. “Sure, and twenty-five years is a mere snap of the fingers to God, darlin’. Less than that, even.”

  “Hmm. Maybe so.”

  Georgina and Ash exchanged a look of encouragement.

  Dev flung himself on the floor in front of Maybelle. Georgina jumped back because his essence was cold and she was standing in part of it. Fortunately, she bumped into Ash, who put his arms around her, so it worked out all right.

  “Please, Maybelle! Please! You’ve got to say you’ll marry me on the other side! You must! I can’t bear the notion of eternity without you! Can you imagine it? Can you? You can’t want that!”

  “Well . . .”

  “Oh, God, Maybelle, just say yes. Please! Please! I’ll go away and never darken your door again if you’ll only say you’ll marry me in the hereafter. I love you so much! I never loved anyone the way I love you. I’ll love you until the end of time, but if you don’t say the words, too, I’ll never see you again! I can’t bear it. Talk about hell!”

  “Is that the truth?” Maybelle appeared very skeptical.

  Devlin began weeping again. “Yes! Yes, it’s the truth. I couldn’t lie if I wanted to. That was part of the deal I made with Saint Peter.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Maybelle, you have the happiness of my immortal soul in your hands. And yours, too, as you well know. You’d be miserable without me forever. Almost as miserable as I’d be without you. “

  A silence ensued that lasted until Georgina thought her nerves would shatter. Ash reached for her hand, and she took his gratefully. She felt ever so loved and protected with him.

  At last Maybelle heaved a gigantic sigh. “Oh, very well. I love you, and I’ll marry you after I die.” She looked to one side.

  Georgina got the impression she was embarrassed by her admission. As for Georgina, she was so happy, she turned and hugged Ash hard. He hugged her back, just as hard. He also whispered in her ear, “Thank the good Lord!” and Georgina giggled.

  “But I resent it, Devlin O’Rourke,” Maybelle went on. “If you’d said such nice things while you were alive, you could have spared us both a lot of misery.”

  “I know it. And I’m sorrier than you can imagine.”

  Georgina, who hadn’t enjoyed being haunted, muttered, “I’ll bet we can, though.”

  “So when will you go away?” Ash asked. Georgina smacked his arm to let him know he ought to have a little sensitivity on the matter. He only looked miffed.

  “I want one more night with my beloved,” the ghost said. “Then I’ll depart.” He sniffled miserably. “It won’t be heaven without you, Maybelle. I hope you die soon.”

  Maybelle stiffened. “You miserable louse! What a thing to say!”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Dev muttered. “What I meant was that I’ll be lonely without you.”

  Maybelle sniffed. “Well, I suppose I’ll miss you, too. I anticipated missing you months ago but never got the chance. I suppose it’ll be worse now, since you hung around so long as a ghost.”

  “Perhaps I can have another chat with Saint Peter. . .”

  A chorus of “No’s!” sang through the house. Georgina and Ash looked toward the door of the kitchen, where Vernice stood. Georgina thought it was rather funny that all three of them had had the same reaction to Dev’s offer.

  “I wouldn’t bother you folks any longer,” Dev promised. “If I can work out a deal with Saint Pete, I’ll only be visible to Maybelle.”

&nbs
p; “Are you sure about that?” Vernice asked in a voice so tough that Georgina almost didn’t recognize it. “Because I don’t fancy having you pop up all the time the way you’ve done since you died. I do believe I’d have to have my own chat with Saint Peter.”

  Dev sighed. “Aye, spoil it for me, Vernice. I always thought you were the nice one.”

  “And exactly what is that supposed to mean?” Maybelle glowered at Dev.

  Georgina felt Ash tug on her arm. When she turned to see what he wanted, he beckoned her with a finger. He lifted his voice and spoke over her head. “Georgina and I are going for a little ride. Don’t wait up for her.”

  Vernice’s eyes went as round as marbles. Dev winked at the two of them. Maybelle looked sour.

  Georgina decided her lover was a very wise man. She paused only long enough to fetch her nightgown, robe, and slippers. Then she joined Ash on Shiloh, and they rode together to his ranch house—the perfect little house that Georgina already loved and couldn’t wait to move into.

  “Do that some more! Oh, please, Ash!”

  Ash was positive he’d never been so happy in his life. Phoebe had never let him do this to her. She’d even been shocked when he’d suggested it. Not Georgina. Georgina was delighted to practice all sorts of experiments with him in bed.

  He looked up at her now from between her silken thighs.

  The sight of her dazed with passion was so gorgeous, he nearly lost control of himself. Knowing it was his duty as a man and her future husband to perform well, he ceased watching her and resumed doing what he’d been doing, which involved the expertise with his mouth and tongue.

  It didn’t take her long, and when she achieved her release, she had to stuff a fist in her mouth so she wouldn’t scream. Not that it mattered. They were alone in his ranch house, miles away from another human being. What’s more, she aimed to stay the night with, him

  Lord above, he loved this woman.

  After she had almost recovered herself, Ash climbed aboard and rode her like a stallion. It didn’t take him long, either, and when his orgasm came, it was like the end of the world and the beginning of heaven, all rolled into one.

  “I love you, Georgina,” he whispered into her ear afterwards.

  “And I love you, Ash,” she panted back.

  In fact, they loved each other so much that they decided to prove it again in a very short while. And once more several times after that.

  It was, Ash decided in the morning, the finest night of his life.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I can’t hold my stomach in for a second longer,” Georgina gasped. She was nearly squeezing Ash’s hand to death.

  “It’s all right, dear. No one can tell.” Vernice patted her on the shoulder.

  Georgina smiled at her aunt. She should have expected Vernice to say something of the sort. Vernice was so sweet. Vernice and Evelyn, Georgina’s mother, evidently took after their father’s side of the family. Georgina had decided some time ago that she herself must be Murphy throwback.

  “To hell with your stomach,” declared Maybelle in her usual scrappy tone. If your parents can’t tolerate the results human nature, to hell with them, too.”

  “I agree with her one hundred percent,” Ash whispered into her ear.

  “You would.”

  Although she was already experiencing the sickness common to the early stages of pregnancy, her tummy had begun to grow, and she was as anxious as a cat on a hot stove about what her parents were going to think about herself and Ash jumping the marriage gun by several weeks, Georgina was happy as a lark. Knowing she was pregnant—which would have been shocking in New York—only made her happy.

  They were going to be a family. She and Ash. Shortly after they got married. By her reckoning, she was about two months along. They’d had to wait this long to have the wedding in order for her parents and her brother to make arrangements to attend. Ash’s uncle from Galveston was due to arrive in a day or so.

  Ash had warned her that everything she’d ever heard about Texans being loud and expansive went double for Uncle Bart.

  Georgina could hardly wait to meet him. A real Texan! Well, Ash was technically a Texan, too, but he wasn’t what she’d call a real one. On the other hand, she’d been mistaken before. When she first met Ash, she hadn’t believed him to be a really, truly, rugged western sheriff, either. But he was. And she loved him for it—among other things.

  Henry Spurling had left for New York City the day after Georgina had spurned him. The letter she wrote to her parents explaining her rejection of Henry and her acceptance of Ash crossed in the mail with the one her parents had written her, advising her to take her time making a decision about whom to marry. Evidently, she surmised, her parents had seen tendencies in their daughter that Georgina hadn’t even guessed at before she’d come to the territory.

  Payton Pierce had been distant and formal to her for a few weeks after she’d rejected him, and had then begun courting a nice girl who had recently moved to Picacho Wells with her parents and siblings. Her name was Lucy Hyde, and she was every bit as insipid as Mr. Pierce. Georgina thought they would suit each other admirably.

  Everyone else in town was ecstatic about her impending nuptials to Ash. Not only did they dearly love their sheriff, but they’d come to love Georgina as well. There wasn’t a lady in town who wasn’t sure Georgina would be the cure of any lingering ills left over from Ash’s disastrous marriage to Phoebe. Georgina agreed.

  She’d been moved to tears when the ladies from the quilting society had presented her with a patchwork quilt, worked in the double wedding ring pattern, as a shower gift. They were busily quilting away on baby blankets now, and not a single one of them had seemed to frown upon Georgina for being pregnant without a wedding band on her finger. They understood weddings couldn’t be rushed when one had parents in New York City—and they also understood that some marital acts were rushed by common consent when the motivation was strong enough.

  Besides, as Betsy Bailey told her, it wasn’t at all uncommon for folks in the territory to have to wait months or even years, for a preacher to come along and marry them, no matter how long they’d been living as man and wife. “We’re lucky here in Picacho Wells,” Betsy said. “We have our own preacher in town. And even a church. When Sam and I got together, it took two years for a preacher to say the words over us, and by that time we had a baby and another one on the way.” All the ladies in the quilting society had laughed gaily.

  Georgina had never looked at the matter from a territorial point of view before Betsy’s revelation. It made her feel better about everything.

  The wedding ceremony was planned for the upcoming Saturday, which was the third one in October. Georgina and her friends in town had been decorating the church for days now with the last of the year’s flowers, early fall leaves, fabric garlands, and big fat candles ordered specially from San Antonio,

  Considering how small a building the Picacho Wells Church was, and the fact that Georgina had attended Grace Church in New York City, she thought the sanctuary was shaping up nicely. It was a little rustic. So what? Its rusticity would lend a certain charm to everything.

  The choir was going to sing at the wedding. Georgina had already warned her parents and her brother about this particular choir. She told her brother, via letter, that if he so much as looked like he was sneering at the singers, she’d shoot him with her derringer. He probably hadn’t believed her, but he’d learn.

  “Oh, look! I see smoke from the train!” Vernice vibrated with excitement as she pointed toward the east. “I haven’t seen Evelyn for so long!” She pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

  “I see it.” Georgina was excited herself. “Oh, Ash, I hope you like them!”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  Georgina considered the statement quite gallant of him, considering his opinion of bankers, which he’d shared with her several times.

  “I hope they like me,” he added.

&
nbsp; She squeezed his hand. “They’ll like you, never fear.”

  When she looked up into his eyes, she nearly swooned when she read the expression of love in them. She’d been doing that a lot lately—nearly swooning. She chalked it up to her delicate condition, even though she didn’t feel very delicate. Indeed, why should she? She could now churn butter without resting once, put chickens to sleep like a champ, quilt without pricking her fingers, roll out the flakiest piecrusts in the territory, make dumplings, foil desperadoes, and even milk Bossy without hurting her.

  She was, in fact, a true western woman, and she was proud to the point of bursting.

  “You think so, do you?” Ash sounded doubtful.

  “Hell, they’ll like you,” said Maybelle with one of her witchiest smiles. “As soon as they see Georgina’s stomach, they’ll beg you to marry their daughter and make an honest woman of her.” She went off into a gale of cackles.

  “I think your grandmother is crazy,” Ash muttered.

  “That’s why I came out here in the first place, you know,” Georgina told him. “Aunt Vernice thought she’d gone off the deep end. Then she discovered Mr. O’Rourke.”

  “I’m not sure the one negates the other.”

  She whacked his arm.

  The train chugged in and squealed to a stop. Georgina held her breath and nearly burst from excitement. When she saw her mother appear at the head of the steps, looking timid and a little lost, she broke away from Ash.

  “Mother! Mother!”

  Evelyn blinked and glanced toward the raucous shout, which Georgina was sure she’d never anticipated coming from her daughter’s throat. When Evelyn spied Georgina, a smile burst onto her countenance, and she hurried down the stairs.

  Georgina nearly knocked her over in her exuberance. “Oh, Mother, I’m so glad you could come!” She was embarrassed when she started to cry.

  “God, Georgie, you look wonderful. What have you been doing to yourself?”

  Wiping her eyes, Georgina looked up into her older brother’s handsome face. He’d always been her hero—well, until she met Ash, who had taken over the position. “Simon! Oh, Simon!” And she disengaged herself from her mother and flung herself at her brother, who laughed and hugged her hard. Vernice took over hugging Evelyn.