by Unknown
He held his hand out for her to grab, then dropped it again. He walked in front of her as they moved slowly down the sidewalk. Suddenly, a red car caught Abigail’s eye, and she realized it was Nick’s. Fancy! Of course, he’d been a big-time lawyer not too long ago.
“Come on. You’re doing great,” he coaxed.
Her chest tightened, but this time it was more from excitement than fear. They reached the car and she smiled wide.
“Should we push fate a little more?” Nick asked.
“H—how?”
“Do you want to get in my car?”
Abigail shook her head. “Those vehicles scare me. They move much faster now than they did in my time.”
He chuckled and walked closer, stopping in front of her. His knuckles swept by her cheek again, and he leaned in and brushed his lips across her forehead. She felt the same sensation as when they were in the attic.
“Then we’ll save that outing for another day.”
“Yes, we will,” Abigail replied. “But I fear you might have to load me down with strong spirits first.”
He laughed, turned, and got into his car.
“Have a good evening, Nick. And thanks again for everything.”
“See you tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “Stay home and get some rest. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
As he drove away, her chest tightened again and she couldn’t breathe. This was how she’d felt when she’d left the building before, as if an invisible force was keeping her there.
Perhaps Nick was her salvation after all, Abigail thought as she hurried back in the building. Maybe if she stayed near him, she would be able to go anywhere.
Eight
Abigail spent Sunday reading the old newspapers, trying in vain to find another article on Lillian Burnett. Perhaps Nick was right and this woman had been a schemer. What were the odds Lillian was indeed her maid, Lily?
Abigail searched her memory for details about Lily’s personal life. Her maid had mentioned having a daughter, but Abigail had never met the girl. Now Abigail wished she’d asked more about Lily’s life when she was alive.
When the clock on the wall read six p m, Abigail left the attic and headed to Nick’s office, but the door was closed and the lights were off. She frowned. The rest of the evening would pass slowly now, making her even more anxious to see him tomorrow.
Consumed with loneliness, she turned and walked to the main floor of the building. Once again, she wondered how she’d allowed a man into her heart so quickly. Was it because Nick was the first living person to talk to her—or see her—in almost a hundred years? Or was it because her grandmother had dreamed about him being in Abigail’s life, so she automatically trusted him?
She reached the double-glass doors and looked out. The sun had slipped behind the horizon. People on the streets walked, rode bicycles, or drove fast motorcars. A casual breeze wafted through the trees, tousling women’s hair as they walked by the building. Abigail grinned. As a child, she’d loved the feel of the wind blowing through her long hair and against her face.
On impulse, she walked outside. She stood on the front steps of the building and closed her eyes, concentrating, wondering if she’d ever feel that sensation again. Noises from the street were all around—horns honked, engines roared, and people yelled. She blocked it out and focused on feeling the wind.
A slight breeze tickled her face, making her heartbeat quicken. She held her breath, praying for more, and soon a few strands of hair brushed against her cheek. She opened her eyes and looked down at her body. Nothing looked different, so how was it that she could feel more now?
She walked up the sidewalk, retracing the same path she and Nick had taken the night before. The closer she inched toward the street, the more her chest tightened and her breathing felt labored. Forcing herself to ignore the pressure, Abigail forged on, but soon the invisible force pulled her back. Oh, how she hated this—hated being controlled and kept chained to this prison.
Sheranbacktothebuildingandtotheattic,thenfelltothefloor and sobbed. What had she done in her life to end up like this?
When her crying subsided, she relaxed and closed her eyes. Within minutes, warmth spread through her and it was as if comforting arms wrapped around her body. Nick was somewhere in the building. She could feel him.
Excited, Abigail sat up, accidentally knocking her head on a nearby shelf. Pain rushed through her skull and she scowled as she rubbed the sore spot. Once the pain lessened, she was able to think clearly. She had indeed touched a hard object—and felt it!
She rushed to Nick’s office to tell him the good news. The closer she got to his office, the warmer her body felt. Strange how they were connected in such a way.
When she reached his office, the door was open and the light was on. She walked in, and he looked her way. His smile widened, and she felt like rushing into his arms and kissing him.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she said breathlessly.
“Yes, I can see that.” He cocked his head to the side. “Did you miss me?”
“Just a little.” Abigail strolled to his desk. “I’ve learned a few things in your absence, and I couldn’t wait to tell you.”
He straightened and folded his arms over his muscular chest. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What have you learned?”
Ignoring the proper manners she’d been taught as a young lady, she sat on the corner of Nick’s desk and swung her leg, something she’d seen him do many times. “The first thing I realized is that I can venture outside only when you are near.” He lifted his eyebrow, so she continued, “I tried to walk around the building earlier and I couldn’t. I wasn’t able to get as far from the building as I went last night while with you.”
“Interesting.” Nick scratched his stubbled chin.
“The next thing I noticed was that if I concentrated hard, I could feel the wind blowing through my hair and against my face.”
“Probably because you’ve had your hat on all these years and haven’t noticed.”
“Possibly,” Abigail replied with a giggle.
He sat on his desk next to her and leaned in. “What else did you learn?”
She took a deep breath. “I can feel pain.”
“You can?”
“Don’t ask me how, but just before you came to your office, I was in the attic. I stood quickly, and I hit my head on the corner of a shelf.” She rubbed the small lump. “It still stings.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
“I didn’t know ghosts could feel things like that.”
“You’re not telling me anything new. I cannot understand why I’m experiencing these things when I haven’t until now.”
“Since I’ve never dealt with a ghost before, I don’t know either.” Nick stood and walked around to type something in his computer. “But wouldn’t it be funny if you were slowly becoming . . . real?”
Abigail held her breath, afraid to even hope that were true. Oh, how she dreamed of having a relationship with a man, and as of late, Nick had been the one in her dreams. She longed to be held in his strong arms, but how could that ever happen? She shook her head. “It is rather far-fetched, don’t you agree?”
“Extremely.” He sat in his swivel chair and linked his fingers over his stomach. “I got a call from Vanessa today. She arranged a time for me to meet Cassandra Brown on Tuesday.”
“That’s in two days,” Abigail exclaimed.
“Yes, it is. So now I need your help to think of questions we want to ask her.”
She nodded and sat in her usual chair. “The first one should be how she acquired the building.”
Nick shook his head. “No, how she acquired the money to buy the building.”
“You’re right, of course. But wouldn’t that sound too forward? I mean we don’t know this woman. Should we be so bold with our questions?”
Nick picked up a pencil and tapped the eraser on his chin. “Smart
thinking, Abby. Perhaps I should start out by telling her that I’ve been researching the building and discovered she owned it in 1917.”
Abigail nodded. “That’s a great beginning.”
“Then I could casually mention that it surprised me to learn that such a young woman owned the building, because it was almost unheard of back in those days.”
“You’re thinking very logically. And with that question, it may lead her to reveal how she came to own it.”
“I sure hope it does.” He sighed and sat forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “I wish you could go with me.”
Abigail sighed. “Me too.”
During the silence, she thought back to her experiment that day. She couldn’t get to the street by herself, but last night when Nick was with her, she could. Was he the answer? Could she leave the building permanently if he was by her side?
She jumped to her feet, her heartbeat hammering out of control. She held out her hand for Nick to take, even though she knew he couldn’t. “Let’s go outside.”
“Right now? Why?”
“I want to try something.”
He pushed away from his desk and stood, then walked to Abigail, a crooked smile playing on his mouth. “What do you want to try?”
“I want to see how far away from the building I can go.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” He opened the door for her. “Let’s go.”
Side by side they strolled down the stairs to the front door. When Nick opened the glass door for her, she smiled and gazed into his eyes.
“Not many men of your time are so gentlemanly. I’ve been watching people a lot as of late, and I haven’t seen many men open doors for women.”
He shrugged. “I haven’t always been one of those men. It’s not until I met you that I’ve wanted to be chivalrous.”
Abigail laughed. “And that you are, Sir Nicholas.”
They walked toward the street, just like they’d done the night before.
“Would it be insensitive of me to ask how many girlfriends you’ve had?”
Nick threw back his head and laughed. Then he looked at her and said seriously, “It would be very inconsiderate to ask that question, Abby.”
From the twinkle in his eyes, she knew he was teasing her. Then he pushed his elbow into her arm, and warmth touched the spot. When he stopped and looked at the place where their bodies had connected, his forehead creased and his gaze narrowed.
“Is something amiss?” Abigail asked.
“Yes. It felt different that time.”
She gasped. “It did? How?”
“Instead of the cool mist I’m used to feeling, it was like my elbow bumped into a . . . well, a bubble.”
“A bubble?”
Nick’s curious eyes met hers. “Yes, a bubble. Kind of bouncy and rubbery in a way, yet soft.”
He reached his fingers slowly toward her arm. She held her breath, hoping he’d connect with something solid.
Nick concentrated on touching her arm, and when his finger made contact, the soft, rubbery sensation was there again.
“Do you feel it?” she whispered.
“Yes, in a way. I mean, I feel something, but it doesn’t feel like your arm, or like the material on your dress.”
He moved his hand up her arm toward her neck and felt the same strange sensation. Just then, a man on a bicycle rode by, staring at Nick with arched eyebrows and a smirk. Nick dropped his hand; for a moment, he’d forgotten nobody else could see Abby.
He chuckled. “Let’s not do this out here. I’m getting weird looks.”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded.
As he stepped toward the road again, he pieced everything together in his mind. It seemed the more time he spent with her, the more alive she became. What if she turned into an actual body—real flesh and bones? What if he could touch her, hold her, kiss her? His heart raced. It would go against his own rules, because Abby was technically his client. Up until now, he literally couldn’t touch her. But what if he could?
Lost in thought, he didn’t notice where he was walking until he heard Abby gasp.
“Nick!”
He stopped and swung around to face her. Her green eyes were wide, and her fist covered her mouth. They had crossed the street and stood in front of a gas station. And she was still with him.
“Do you know what this means?” she asked, letting her hand drop to her side.
“I think so.” He swallowed hard. “You can leave the building as long as you’re with me?”
“Yes.” A smile slowly stretched across her face. “I am free.” She giggled. “Well, free from the building, anyway.” She rushed to his side and took his hand. “Oh, Nick, take me somewhere— anywhere. Please?”
Nick felt the soft sensation of her hand around his. “All right, but we’ll have to go in my car.”
Abby glanced over her shoulder toward his sports car. “Well, if I must.” She met his eyes again. “Just don’t go fast.”
“If I do, you’ll have to hold on tight to me.”
“That sounds like heaven.”
Nine
Once inside the car, Nick gripped the steering wheel and revved up the engine as he gave Abigail a teasing grin. When he pulled the car out of the parking lot and turned down the street, she waited for the invisible force to pull her back to her prison, but nothing happened. The farther they drove from the building, the happier she felt.
The top of Nick’s car was down, and she threaded her fingers through her hair and let the wind sweep it away from her face. She closed her eyes, enjoying the cool air against her skin.
“Where do you want to go? Anyplace special?” he asked.
Abigail turned and looked at him. “Actually, yes. Will you take me to where I used to live?” She frowned. “At least I hope the house is still there.”
“Sure. Just direct me as I drive.”
She gave him directions, but worry settled into her heart. What if the house wasn’t there? Then again, what if it still stood? Would seeing the house bring back bad memories?
During the drive, Abigail felt as if she’d been placed in another dimension. People dressed so differently now. She had expected that, yet some of the clothing—or lack thereof—was so lewd. How could people show so much of their bodies and not be embarrassed? Not only that, the women practically hung on their boyfriends, and couples openly showed their affection. How inappropriate! Abigail thought.
The buildings weren’t as nice as she remembered, either. Clearly, people in this century had not taken care of the structures. Why were words and strange symbols painted on some? Windows had been broken but not fixed, and bricks and gables were crumbling. Didn’t anyone care for beauty any longer? Had people lost respect for everything?
As Nick turned up the street where she used to live, Abigail closed her eyes, praying the house would be there. The car slowed to a stop, but she didn’t dare open her eyes.
“Abby, honey, it’s okay,” he whispered in her ear. “The house is beautiful.”
She popped open her eyes. Bright lights shone on the three-story whitewashed mansion. A black and gold iron fence surrounded the yard, and flowers and shrubs lined the steps that led to the wraparound porch. Large, round columns along the porch held up the second-floor deck.
Abigail sighed and placed her hand on her chest. The goldframed windows were new, and so was the door, but other than that, everything was as she had remembered.
Memories assailed her—times with her father in this very house. Birthdays, parties, and other social functions were the highlights of her month. She’d become the woman of the house at age five when her mother died. Whenever her father needed to entertain, Abigail took charge of the planning, and the parties were often attended by important people from all over California.
The staff at the newspaper—her father’s employees—had often come to the house. In fact, Abigail had known every staff member by name, and she’d thought of them as her family. They had spoiled h
er almost as much as her father had, especially her father’s good friend, Harry.
A tear slid down her cheek. After her father’s funeral, everyone had gathered here. A part of her had been buried with him that day.
Heat surrounded her shoulders like a comforting blanket, and she breathed in Nick’s masculine scent. His arms wrapped around her from behind, so she leaned against him and looked back at the house.
“Are you all right?” The soft whisper of his breath tickled her ear.
“Yes. There are so many memories, good and bad.”
“I’m glad the place still stands.”
Abigail smiled. “Thank you. I’m relieved as well. Since everything else in my life has been destroyed, it’s good to know this has not.”
She turned her head and gazed up into his eyes. The sun had set, so she could only see dark shadows across his face. “Thank you for being here and sharing this with me.”
“This has been very special for me, too,” Nick said.
At the tenderness in his voice, Abigail’s heart pounded faster.
“What do you want to do now?” he asked. “Do you want to stay here longer?”
His smile widened as if he read her thoughts—as if he knew she’d love nothing more than to stay in his arms forever. But he wasn’t asking that. “No, I think we can go. Perhaps you can bring me back during the day.”
Nick nodded. “I’d be honored.”
He leaned closer and brushed his lips across her forehead. Tingles danced over her skin again, but she couldn’t really feel his lips. How she longed to kiss him at least once before she crossed over to the next world—if she ever did.
When he pulled away, Abigail felt empty. None of this was real, she reminded herself. She was a ghost, and wishing wouldn’t bring her back to life.
“Who do you suppose lives there?” she asked as Nick drove away from the house.
“If I remember correctly, it’s the governor’s house.”
“It is? How fascinating. My father would be thrilled to know our home is still used for politics and entertaining.”
Nick glanced her way and smiled before returning his attention to the road. “You got that right. And I think they’ve turned the two-acre yard into a park.”