by Glass, Debra
That had been the single most romantic thing that had ever happened to me. I’d never forget the sound of the rain pattering the tin roof, the humid chill in the air or the way Jeremiah’s being made me feel alive all over. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way my hand felt next to his or the way my heart careened sideways when his thumb caressed the back of my hand.
“Are you getting out?” Mom asked, breaking the spell of my daydream.
My eyes snapped open and I saw we’d arrived at the hospital.
I got out of the car and shuffled alongside Mom. Although we’d driven by the hospital several times, I’d never been inside. This, however, was not the time to sightsee. Impatience urged me to get home and I sincerely hoped Mom would simply drop off David’s file so we could leave.
The automatic doors glided open as we approached and I couldn’t help but wonder what Jeremiah thought of all the modern conveniences we now possessed.
At once, that sterile hospital stench surrounded me along with the blaring loudspeaker paging various doctors by coded numbers.
The waiting room overflowed with miserable looking people from babies to the elderly. A cartoon Ella watched at home played on a television mounted in the corner of the waiting room.
After my accident, I abhorred the hospital. Just the sight and sounds of emergency rooms started me staving off a panic attack. I counted as I breathed and mentally tried to travel to the happy place my counselors had laid out for me. But all I saw was the shadowy attic and Jeremiah’s glowing hand.
“Hi, Mrs. Lewis!” A short blonde wearing pink scrubs waddled through the emergency room with her armload of files. Even though they’d been married for six years, it still struck me as funny to hear my mom being called by David’s last name.
Mom stood out, dressed in her Buckhead boutique ensemble, and looking at her amongst scrubs and jean clad Tennesseans, I noticed how attractive she really was. Tall and thin, she wore stylish, brown suede boots and a chocolate leather coat. “Heather, have you met my oldest daughter, Wren?” Even Mom’s voice carried an air of country club class.
Heather scrutinized me. Doubtless, everyone who worked here knew why David had relocated to this Mule Town from his far more prestigious position in Atlanta. Nevertheless, she flashed me a cheery smile. “Hi, Wren.”
“Hi,” I muttered in that shy way that made Mom cringe.
I tensed at the approaching wail of sirens. As if sensing my building panic, Mom slipped her arm around my shoulders and drew me close. I always found Mom’s hugs comforting but at that moment, I ached to feel Jeremiah’s ethereal energy enveloping me.
Beginning to tremble, I hoped the sirens belonged to a swarm of fire trucks or police cars. No such luck.
An army of scrubs-clad hospital employees flocked to the doors. Codes blasted through the speaker system.
Heather’s gaze lifted as she listened. “I’ve gotta run,” she said. “Looks like we’ve got a wreck coming in.”
My head swam. The emergency room and its occupants temporarily faded from view and then returned with nauseating force. “I’ve got to sit down.”
Mom walked me to the nearest chair and I sank into it, not caring about the very sick looking old man sitting next to me. I focused on Mom’s face. She squatted in front of my chair. “I’ll run this back to David’s office and I’ll be right back. Will you be okay?”
I nodded but I wasn’t certain.
Mom left and I leaned my head back against the wall and concentrated on my breathing. The sirens echoed louder and louder in my head and I fought to keep my consciousness from being dragged back to the time Kira and I were wheeled into the emergency room on stretchers.
But something inside me whispered that I’d soon be the one rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.
I chased away the psychic hunch.
“Jeremiah,” I whispered, longing for the comfort of his presence.
“Did you say something, honey?” the old man asked.
“No,” I whispered. “I just don’t like the sound of ambulances.”
“Wait’ll you get to be my age.” He patted the back of my hand which forcefully gripped the armrest.
The doors opened and my eyes riveted to the horrific sight of three stretchers rolling in. Nurses ran alongside carrying the fluid bags high. Blood stained a white blanket covering one of the victims and suddenly I drifted outside my body, watching myself being wheeled in on that stretcher.
I blinked and suddenly a bedraggled woman appeared floating beside one of the stretchers. Immediately, I knew she was dead.
Her horrified gaze flicked to mine. “Help me!”
My consciousness slammed back into my body with heart-wrenching force. My earlier fear dissipated, and I rose and walked toward the ghost woman. So much commotion flurried in the emergency room, no one took any notice of me. The lady walked behind a stretcher, desperately pleading with the nurses to listen to her. “Please help him. Please don’t let him die.”
A boy about my age lay on the gurney, motionless. Pale. He looked dead but I couldn’t see his spirit.
“Tom,” the woman wailed. “No!”
Suddenly, two spirits loomed before me but the second wasn’t the boy on the stretcher. It was a man who appeared very shocked.
“Don’t leave him,” the woman pleaded. “Stay with him, Tom.”
The befuddled man evaporated.
“I’ve got a heartbeat on the older male,” a nurse yelled but my gaze drifted to the third stretcher wheeling past me.
The ghost woman’s physical body lay lifelessly on it. I stared, stunned.
“No!” the woman yelled, her gaze flicking back and forth at something I couldn’t see. “I’m not ready to go. I’m not ready—”
Then I watched as the brilliant glow around her spirit intensified until it was so bright I could hardly look at it. I shielded my eyes, squinting, unwilling to look away until suddenly, the light was gone. I blinked at the bewildered ghost lady who stood gaping at the spot where the beam of light had been.
She hadn’t gone. She’d refused.
Just like Jeremiah.
Hands clamped my shoulders, startling me.
“Wren,” Mom urged. “Wren, come away from here.”
Numb, I stumbled along as she led me out the door. I craned to see the ghost woman but she was no longer visible.
“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” Mom said as she guided me into the car.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled unconvincingly as I dropped into the seat and strapped on my seat belt.
Neither of us said another word on the short drive back to the house but when I saw the white columns and the giant fanlight window come into view, my heart beat with renewed anticipation.
Our pea gravel drive crunched under the tires as Mom rolled up the driveway, and as soon as she stopped the car, I burst out and headed for the front porch.
Gratitude swept through me that the front door wasn’t locked. After I pushed it open, I rushed up the stairs as fast as my feet would carry me. Both excitement and dread vied for prominence as I neared the attic door. Mentally, I willed Jeremiah to come to me. He’d told me he could read my emotions so I projected the strongest one I felt for him.
Love.
The attic door swung open with an menacing groan. I looked back to make certain Mom hadn’t followed me and then I hastened up the stairs.
When I reached the top and saw him, relief swamped me with such force, tears began to pour down my cheeks.
Still, there was something…
Jeremiah sat on the attic floor, his arms resting on the tops of his drawn up knees as he stared straight ahead. I battled the desire to run to him, to throw myself into his ethereal arms.
Even despite his aloof demeanor, at that moment, I knew I would never love another man the way I loved Jeremiah Ransom as long as I lived—and even after that.
“Jeremiah?” My voice came out in a garbled whisper.
His shoulders rose sligh
tly and then fell as he blew out a deep breath.
Couldn’t he feel me? Couldn’t he feel that I overflowed with love for him? I tried to swallow but couldn’t. I drew in a rough breath. “Please don’t be angry with me.”
He stood and turned his back to me. “I could never be angry with you.”
Cautiously, I moved closer and with every step, I became glaringly aware of the magnetic push and pull of his energy with mine. “Then why—”
In one sudden movement, so quickly I hadn’t seen him move, he faced me. My words stuck in my throat.
His eyes glittered like steel. His sensuous mouth was set in a straight, determined line. And all I could think was how extraordinarily beautiful he appeared with the light streaming through the window and shining through him.
His gaze searched mine. “I apologize for frightening your suitor.”
I shook my head, too choked to speak.
“He seemed like a sincere young man.” He spoke as if he was trying to convince himself rather than me. “You should be with someone who can care for you. Someone who’s…alive.”
“No,” I rasped. “Jeremiah, please…I—” The words hung on my lips to tell him I loved him but I was too terrified to utter them.
“You mustn’t spend so much time up here,” he said.
I shook my head again.
“You should be with the living. With your family. Your friends. With that young man who wishes to court you.”
My heart was breaking.
“But I—” Oh God, why couldn’t I say three simple words?
His eyes softened and he took another step closer to me. I could have easily reached out and touched him but fear paralyzed my both my body and my vocal chords.
He seemed stricken. “You don’t want to while away your days with…with a…dead man.”
I nodded vehemently. My gaze dropped to his chest. “But I do, Jeremiah. I do. When Waylon…when he…kissed me, all I could think about was that I wished it was you, instead.”
Before I could draw my next breath, I reeled into his arms and he lowered his mouth to mine. My heart beat like a wild bird’s wings as his lips found mine. At first, all I felt was an energetic pressure and then it was all-consuming. His kiss was hard and soft at the same time until I couldn’t tell where his mouth ended and mine began.
Trembling fingers pressed into my shoulders. His mouth devoured mine and I opened for him. This kiss was the most intense kiss I had ever known. The gravity of it all penetrated me with the knowledge that this would be the most memorable moment of my life. So memorable, this one kiss temporarily eradicated my fears about Briar, the pain and guilt I felt over Kira’s death and erased the scars marring not only my face but my soul as well.
Love swirled around us, simultaneously palpable and elusive as I melted against him, parting my lips to admit his sweet tongue that delved to mate and spar with mine.
His hands swept down my back, drawing me closer and closer until every inch of his ghostly body countered mine. I surrendered completely. No longer timid, I encircled his neck with my arms and when I did, he moaned into my mouth.
Emotions and physical sensations I’d never experienced combined and unfurled downward inside me until I clung to him. I burrowed my fingers into the thick black hair at his nape and held his head to mine, deepening our already impossibly deep kiss.
I couldn’t get enough of him. I couldn’t be close enough to him. My entire being flooded with the need to meld with his spirit, to draw his very soul within my body and know him from the inside out.
Not yet…
The words he’d uttered when we’d touched hands that first time lingered in my thoughts. I understood what he meant now. I wanted it and a plea hovered on my lips but when an unchecked tear rolled down my face, his kiss turned inexorably tender. My previous thoughts fled as his cool palms cupped my cheeks, tilting my face upward so he could tease my bottom lip between his. Completely at his mercy, I held him as his kisses moved over my cheeks, my scar, kissing away the trails of my tears, kissing the dampness from my closed eyelids, my forehead, the tip of my nose. He grazed my mouth once more and I tasted my own salty teardrops.
My lashes fluttered open as he withdrew far enough to look into my eyes. “Maybe I went to heaven after all,” he murmured. A dimple deepened at the corner of his mouth.
I felt faint. Gloriously lightheaded. I’d never been kissed like that. Not ever. I arched against him, wanting more.
He obliged me, crushing me into the safe haven of his chest as his lips plied mine once more. I could scarcely believe I was doing this—kissing a ghost. Love for him made my heart swell until I thought my chest would burst.
This time, when he dragged his mouth from mine, he snuggled me into his arms and we sank to the floor together. He leaned against a nearby trunk, pulled me back against his chest and he rested his chin on the top of my head.
His arms enveloped me and I rested my hands over his. My gaze dropped to where his fingers entwined with mine and I stared at the marked difference between us.
One alive.
One a spirit.
My hands were dense. Solid. My pink fingernail polish flaked, bluish veins ran underneath the surface of my skin, a tiny scar from where I’d suffered a burn taking something out of the oven marred the back of one of my fingers. In contrast, Jeremiah’s hands appeared faded in comparison, the details less obvious. Peering intently, I could almost see through them. Nothing about him denied the fact that he was a spirit. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was safe in his arms.
Safe.
Tangling my legs with his, I drew in a deep breath and then let it out along with all the tension in my body.
“What do you feel when I touch you?” he asked softly.
My answer was quick. “Everything.”
He hugged me tighter against him. “Physically. What do you feel?”
His hand twisted so that my palm lay in his. I moved my flesh and blood hand over his ghostly one, sensing the tingling energy, the strange solidity that felt like nothing else I had ever touched. “I can’t explain it.” I stared until our hands blurred into one slowly moving entity. “It feels like water but more solid. It feels like…lightning.”
A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Yes, it does.” His hand closed around mine and squeezed. “And when I kissed you? What did you feel?”
My heart swelled. “Physically?” I asked tentatively.
“Yes.”
“I felt…pressure.”
“Did it feel like when that other fellow kissed you?” he asked pointedly.
“Not at all.” My lips pulled into a smile. “No. I felt your kiss all the way down to my toes.” I twisted in his arms. Courage surged hard through my body. “In fact…” With that, I leaned into him and found his mouth again.
Just as before, his fingers threaded into my hair and he held my head as his lips worked their magic with mine.
“Do you feel that?” His lips moved against mine.
I moaned a response as his tongue pushed through my lips, teasing me to counter. One of my hands found his chest as I slid between his legs and turned more fully into him. I had easily stopped myself from going too far before because I’d never been as attracted to anyone the way I was to Jeremiah. But this was different. My body had a mind of its own and I ached to know him in every way possible.
My palm ventured down his chest to his taut stomach. He grew rigid and caught my hand in his as he abruptly ended our kiss.
“No,” he said firmly.
“Why not?” I asked. Heady desire still thrummed through me despite his rejection. I moved toward him again but ghostly hands caught my shoulders and held me at bay.
“Jeremiah, why not?” I demanded.
He inhaled sharply. “Because I’m a coward.”
“A coward?” I asked, not comprehending. “Jeremiah, you fought and died in a war. No one could ever think of you as a coward.”
“Wren,
you will grow old before my eyes while I stay the same.”
My heart plummeted. Just when everything seemed perfect, he backed away again.
He continued. “And when you…when it’s time for you to…die, you will go to heaven and I will remain here for eternity.”
Frustration welled. “I’ll stay with you,” I said adamantly, struggling against his vise-grip on my shoulders.
“No. I won’t allow it.”
A burst of anger flashed through me. “This is the twenty-first century. Women think for themselves and decide for themselves.”
He stared and I couldn’t tell if he was relenting or patronizing me. Determined, I returned his stare. A certainty like none I’d ever known existed within me—the certainty that what I felt for Jeremiah would only grow stronger as I grew older. “I want to be with you.”
His hard stare faded into a soft smile. “Then you shall.” His uncomfortable gaze drifted down my body and then returned to my eyes. “But not in that way. Not now. Not today.”
Disappointment flooded me.
I drew in a deep breath and then let it out as he pulled me back into his arms.
“Don’t make the mistake of misunderstanding my intentions. I consider myself a gentleman, but that has nothing to do with why I hesitate.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “For me there is only the certainty of this existence. For you, the promise of so much more waits on the horizon. I want you to be sure. To have no regrets.”
“But, I—” I’d summoned the courage to tell him that I was in love him but he interrupted me.
“I want you to be absolutely certain, Wren Darby. Because then, you will be mine forever.”
Warmth infused my entire body at his intimate words. I longed to tell him I already belonged to him forever but instead of opposing him anymore, I closed my eyes and rested against him. The impact of his statement filled me until I thought I would burst from love and joy.
All concerns about Briar and my near panic attack at the hospital fled until nothing remained except Jeremiah’s sparkling energy encompassing me.