Panicked, I looked for my body, but all I could see in every direction was light. I could still feel everything, including an intense pressure pushing on my fingers; but all around me was only a vaporous white. My neck hurt and my throat burned with parched thirst; my stomach groaned with hunger. I could hear something, like someone shouting to me underwater, but my vision was black. Then, in the distance, I saw a pair of white glowing eyes. I stared at them for a moment, but they vanished as quickly as they appeared. My vision swirled and suddenly, I was staring at my house. Drake was there again too, and this time, he was walking up the steps to the front door. But he was dressed in a modern suit. Something was different about him but I couldn’t quite make it out. I stared at the man who was Drake but also wasn’t Drake. But before I could take a closer look, my vision swirled in colors again. The underwater sound got louder and louder until I forced my ears to hear it. I realized I knew the voice. It was the Lao, standing in front of me, and his face contorted into a knowing smile, while his eyes were a glowing white.
I could see my body now so I held my hand to my face. There was still a strange pressure on two of my fingers: the index and middle. But nothing was holding them.
“Good to see you, baby!” he called out. I looked up from my hand. He stood before me, and his face began to change, softening his features. His white, painted skin turned to a sun-darkened bronze, his hat became sandy blond hair. But the eyes were glowing and white and they stayed fixed on me. His smile grew bigger but I was no longer staring at the Lao, he was Ryan. He called my name. By now, the pressure left my fingers and I felt a weight on my shoulders. It was like an earthquake. I was shaking, but Ryan and his glowing white eyes stayed where they were, unmoved by the tremors. Somewhere, someone was screaming. Ryan called me again, “Peyton!” The screaming continued.
My eyes snapped open and I gasped at the bright rush of light. Ryan was standing over me, his thick arms pressed down around my shoulders. My mouth shut and suddenly, I realized I was the person who’d been screaming. Ryan’s face was alarmed. As my vision gradually focused, I could make out Lovie behind him. Her eyes are wide with concern too.
When his eyes met mine, Ryan nearly melted onto me.
“Oh, thank God you’re all right!” he exclaimed, enveloping me in his massive arms.
I was back.
TWENTY-FOUR
“I was so worried,” said Ryan when I’d finally gotten comfortable on the hotel room bed. I was propped up with three fluffy pillows but my body still felt weak. I couldn’t focus on anything; my mind was reeling from the oppressive silence. I was palpating my temples and I screamed for Drake, but got no response. Looking sheepishly back at Ryan’s worried, caring eyes, I nearly shuddered with guilt. Lovie made me some tea and I was sipping on the bitter liquid, readjusting to twenty-first century lighting and modern décor. Ryan took my hand in his and smiled at me with open sincerity, and I felt my cheeks go red with shame. He seemed rattled by my lack of response.
To be fair, I hadn’t said so much as a word since waking up. I mumbled my thanks to Lovie upon being handed the tea, but beyond that, I couldn’t find the energy to speak. The assault on my senses was so severe, I was still feeble from my return to the present. My refusal to speak, however, had less to do with my new surroundings and more to do with a more urgent silence: Drake’s. Twenty minutes had elapsed since I woke up in the hotel room bed and yet, my mind remained too quiet. I’d been screaming his name in my thoughts non-stop since I discovered his absence. Panic made my fingers icy. I turned to Lovie.
“I can’t hear Drake anymore,” I said, not even trying to conceal the hysteria in my voice. Ryan was deflated, and I’m sure it didn’t feel good to have your girlfriend wake up only to ask about another man. But this wasn’t supposed to happen. Drake was supposed to stay with me.
Lovie nodded. “I was wondering if that would happen.”
“What does it mean? Where is he?”
“Peyton, you were under for a very long time—I’ve never seen anyone stay in another realm for that long. We had no way of knowing the full effects on your body. Hosting a spirit takes energy, and you probably used every last drop of energy you had to get back. With no one to host the spirit, you essentially had to exorcize yourself.” Lovie told me with a shrug, as if it were no big deal.
“So he’s gone?” Ryan asked, his voice sounding light and hopeful. I barely had enough time to conceal the scowl I gave him. He coughed to cover up his elated tone.
I ignored him.
“Is he gone?” I asked Lovie, my voice now thick with fear. Ryan looked at me uneasily.
“Well, Peyton, he’s been gone for a hundred years.” She gave me a meaningful look. I knew she was tacitly telling me to tone it down in front of Ryan, but my palms were slick with sweat from worry. A chill crept up around the nape of my neck. I stared at her, urging her to explain. “If I were to guess, I’d say his spirit has probably returned to inhabiting your house.”
“Probably?”
“I suppose we don’t know for certain,” admitted Lovie. “This goes beyond my area of expertise.” It took everything I had not to run screaming from the hotel room right then and there.
Ryan took my hand, probably determined to steer our reunion back in the direction he initially envisioned and hoped for. “Don’t worry, Pey. I’m sure he’s fine.” His Southern drawl and dimpled smile brought me back to a kind of sanity and I managed a nod, trying to silence the panicked thoughts.
Lovie approached the bed and gave my leg a comforting pat. I was far from feeling comforted, but I settled back into the pillows knowing I’d have a hard time getting anywhere with these two. Suddenly, I realized Drake wasn’t the only one missing. I scanned the room, and noticed Christopher’s frowning face was absent.
“Hang on,” I said. “Where’s Christopher?” I’d have been lying if I said I was sorry that he wasn’t part of the Wake Up Brigade; but he’d been there when I started the journey.
“He was called away on business,” said Lovie offhandedly. I looked at Ryan to see if he’d offer more of an explanation but he just shrugged. My mind immediately returned to Drake, I was still calling his name inside my head with a desperate fury.
“So… what happened?” Ryan asked, his warm hand enveloping mine.
I stared at Lovie, then Ryan and back again. Before I could stop it, Dorothy’s mangled body flashed in my mind. The vile image, paired with the stress of my return and my anxiety at discovering Drake’s absence nauseated me. I didn’t even have time to cover my mouth before my belly lurched all at once and I threw up all over Ryan’s blue jeans.
Luckily for Ryan, the only thing in my stomach was tea. I stared in horror at the dark spot on his jeans. Even though it was mostly bile, the odor didn’t exactly suggest I was even alive. He gave me a tight-lipped smile and shook his head.
“Missed you too,” he said sarcastically. I looked at him sheepishly and he replied with a low chuckle.
“Sorry!” I cried, and my unused limbs began struggling to spring into action. I looked around the bed for something to mop up the dark spot on his lap. Thankfully, the mess stayed relatively isolated and there wasn’t too much to clean up except the yellow, foamy puddle seeping into his pant leg.
“No, it’s fine, I intended to change.” He got up from the side of the bed and awkwardly duck-walked to the bathroom. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks again. I looked back at Lovie, but her expression was hard to read. She seemed vaguely amused but there was something else evident too; judgment? I ignored the look and chose to take advantage of Ryan’s absence; I turned my body toward Lovie.
“Samuel?” I said.
She raised her eyebrows.
I continued. “He can communicate with the spirit world, right? Couldn’t you send him to make sure Drake is okay?”
“Let’s focus on making sure you’re okay first, Peyton,” said Lovie in a motherly manner. There was a bit of a reproach in there too, or maybe I was a littl
e too sensitive. “To be honest, I haven’t seen Samuel at all while you were under the last four days.”
I shook my head, “Four days?” I asked, more than shocked.
“Well, yes…”
“That means I was asleep for an entire day?! Drake’s been missing for an entire day?!”
She saw my drained, uneasy face and added in a softer tone, “I’m sure Drake’s fine. And don’t worry about being asleep, spiritual communication always takes a huge toll on the body.”
I nodded, less sure. My breathing was still uneven.
I heard the shower start in the bathroom and looked guiltily after Ryan. I knew I was supposed to be happy to see him, and I was. But Drake’s face was the last thing I saw before I blacked out and woke up here. His arms were the last arms to hold me; his lips were the last to kiss me; his words the last to comfort me. I loved Ryan, but I just spent three days with Drake. I could remember so acutely what it felt like to touch him. And the magic electricity that jolted me whenever our eyes met, the sound of his voice, the way the energy in a room changed whenever he entered it, the shape of his nose, the feel of his mouth moving over mine… I could still conjure those feelings with such striking clarity, it seemed more like the reality and this more like the dream. Nothing in my brain made sense anymore. There was no world in which I felt I genuinely belonged. I had become a ghost, trapped between the past and beyond, stuck forever between the man I loved and the man I lost.
Lovie was watching me with growing curiosity. I’d been lost in thought, staring into my tea.
“What happened with Drake, Peyton?” I knew she wasn’t asking me as my local voodoo priestess, but as my friend.
I opened my mouth to speak, but, just then, the bathroom door opened and Ryan came out. He had on a blue, collared shirt that clung to his body and tiny droplets of moisture seeped through where he hadn’t quite finished drying. He changed into my favorite pair of blue jeans. His muscular body filled out the clothes in all the right places, but his eyes were sad. When they met mine, I looked away awkwardly.
He returned to his post beside the bed, this time sitting a little farther away, just outside of vomit range. I gave him an apologetic smile and he returned it. My heart melted at the sight of his dimples. Even though worry tinged my thoughts, I tried to force it away for the time being. I was happy to be back with Ryan. I had to remember that.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Tired and dirty,” I replied honestly.
“Still nauseous?” he countered playfully.
I gave him an appreciative laugh. “I think I’m okay now, thanks.”
He nodded and scooted his chair a little closer to the bed.
“Try to give me some warning next time, okay? I love you but not enough for two showers. I only packed enough for three days.”
I didn’t respond to his joke, but instead tried to reply with as much sincerity as I could muster, “I love you too.” Drake’s chocolate eyes sprang to my mind, but I ignored them.
Ryan smiled whole-heartedly and took my hand in his again.
“So, did you find Dorothy?” he asked, giving me a squeeze. Lovie looked on expectantly.
“Yeah, we found her,” I said. My stomach interrupted with a growl that would have embarrassed an elephant seal. “Think we can continue this conversation over lunch?” I asked hopefully.
Ryan looked nervous, “Did you not hear me say I don’t have anymore clean pants?”
I laughed. Lovie smiled at us.
“Yeah, let’s get you cleaned up and find some food,” said Ryan, happy to have me back to normal. “I’m starved too. Lovie?”
“Lunch sounds like an excellent idea,” she said encouragingly.
After a shower and a change into a fresh outfit, I felt much more normal. In the warmth of the water, I managed to slightly allay my worries of Drake. My brain still returned to worry often, no matter how much I tried to stop it. I couldn’t help it even though I hoped he was probably back where he belonged in our house in Louisiana. I didn’t dare think of an alternate possibility. The truth was: I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to his presence in my head yet. I knew I’d be forced to choose eventually, but I hoped to postpone the fateful decision for as long as possible. The absence of Drake inside me now felt like part of my mind were missing.
Then I remembered the man waiting outside the bathroom door. A man who was living, and loved me. We’d be home soon. Until then, I needed to remember who I was. First and foremost, I was a girlfriend. And my boyfriend wasn’t a long dead French police officer. I brushed my teeth and hair, noticing how long the bleached blond strands had grown since I first chopped it off into a short bob. That was after my divorce. So much change had taken place within those few inches of new growth! Scooping my still wet hair back into a low ponytail, I exited the bathroom.
“I missed you,” said Ryan appreciatively when he saw me. I walked over to him, staring up at his golden hair and sun-tanned skin. I wrapped my arms around his large body and allowed myself to melt into him. He held me protectively.
“Let’s eat!” I said as my stomach interrupted with another low rumble.
When we exited the hotel, I was blown away by how starkly modern New York contrasted with its 1910 version. Car horns blared, and people filled every square inch of sidewalk, while the skyscrapers made it impossible to see in any direction. The hotel we were at was the same building that was there in 1910, but every other building was different. I didn’t recognize a single one. Having become somewhat familiar with the New York of the past, I tried to recognize the different parts of town as we rumbled past them in the back of our 1910 automobile. I felt at ease amid the undeniable changes of modernity, but there was quite a bit I missed about the grimy streets and the well-dressed citizens of old New York.
Ryan pulled up a local burger place on his phone and walked to the street to call an Uber. My senses were overloaded with sights, sounds, and smells. Having just woken up from an unusual visit one hundred years in the past, I still felt lightheaded and overwhelmed.
Our Uber slowed to a stop in front of us. Ryan waved Lovie and me toward a silver Prius, and the three of us squeezed into the back seat. The driver was a man with dreadlocks and a dark, oblong face with severe acne.
Ryan gave him the address and when the driver registered his accent, he turned around to get a better look at us.
“First time in the Big Apple?” he asked with grating enthusiasm.
“Yeah, but it feels like I’ve been here for a hundred years!” I said for my friends’ benefit.
Lovie and Ryan chuckled, but the driver thought I was snubbing his city and turned to face the front again. He didn’t seem too offended, however. Soon he was rambling away about the city and his cat and whatever else he could think of to fill in the tensely silent space. Lovie indulged the driver’s inane attempts to start conversation but I tuned him out and stared out the window at the quickly moving scenery. My mind struggled to keep up.
“You okay, Pey?” asked Ryan, squeezing my hand.
The annoying driver was telling a story about a man who cut him off yesterday and boasting how he was a better driver than everyone else in New York. Of all the differences between 1910 and now, I most missed the silent taxi drivers.
“Yeah, I’m just tired,” I replied, squeezing his hand in return. “Ryan, when are we going home?”
“As soon as you want. Are you sure you’re okay? What happened?”
Even though I knew Ryan was beyond anxious to hear about my last seventy-two hours, I looked up to see the Uber driver eyeing us nosily in his rearview mirror. I shook my head and returned to staring out the window. Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Undoubtedly, he was eager to get home too, but I suspected not for the same reason.
When we arrived at our destination, I sucked my cheeks in at the long line of people who were waiting outside to eat. There were people everywhere. They occupied every square inch of the sidewalk;
and their cars were stalled to a stop in the streets. Everywhere I looked, I could see people: groups of teenagers on their cellphones, well-dressed business men and women hurriedly walking past, shabby beggars wading through the streets with shopping carts and worn out donation cups. My mind reeled at the noise and the overload of visual stimuli. It took all I had to force myself out of the car.
My empty stomach churned violently. Worried I’d be sick again, I forced myself to stare at an unmoving spot on the ground. Ryan placed his hand on my back and I straightened my posture, trying to ignore my nausea and anxiety. It was just lunch. If I couldn’t handle lunch, the rest of my life would become quite a struggle. I wondered what it felt like to lose your mind.
Ryan looked at me like I was about to explode. His hand was still positioned lightly on my back, “I’m going to ask how long the wait is,” he said. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” I snapped. “Please stop asking me that!” I struggled to keep the frustration from my voice. He hesitated for a moment, but removed his hand and walked to the front of the long line. Lovie smiled at me politely. I knew I was acting like a total freak, but they had no idea what I’d just seen—and experienced. I was completely and utterly alone, the only person who understood me was an MIA ghost. I shook my head, trying to exile the negative thoughts from my mind.
“There’s a thirty-minute wait,” said Ryan, startling me out of my reverie. “Wanna try somewhere else?”
I shrugged. I was so past the point of hunger, my stomach was an acidic mess of emptiness and doubt. It was surreal to me that I could return from one of the most harrowing experiences of my life to a classic game of “No, where do you want to eat?” My head hurt.
Finally, we decided on a Chinese restaurant a few blocks away. My stomach did another flip-flop when we entered. The restaurant was stuffy and hot despite the chilliness outside. It smelled like cat litter and old grease, but I was so grateful to be away from the crowd, it was a welcome relief. Even though I appreciated the silence of the restaurant, it occurred to me that the burger place probably would have been a better choice as far as drowning out our conversation. The stuffy dining hall was almost empty except for an older gentleman with a bad comb-over to hide the baldness on top of his head. He seemed to be pondering his egg drop soup as if it contained the secrets of the universe. My throbbing headache intensified into a head-splitting migraine. My vision got blurry. I sat down in a red booth and stared blankly at the black plastic menu without actually reading any of it.
Brown Eyed Ghoul: A Ghostly Paranormal Romance Series (The Peyton Clark Series Book 3) Page 29