Haunting Ellie

by Patti Berg

  “What are you talking about?” For once Matt’s cocky smile was wiped from his face.

  “I don’t want to spoil your surprise by telling you too soon. I’ll have my lawyer talk to yours. Until then...”

  Jon looked at Elizabeth. “I know you don’t like this vengeful streak running through me, and I know you don’t like me using my fists, but I swear I’ll give up fighting for good if you’ll just give me one more opportunity.”

  She shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not crazy about the idea, but do what you feel is right.” In spite of what he knew she was thinking, she flashed him the prettiest smile he’d seen in his entire life.

  Jon raised a fist and drove it toward Matt’s face. He jerked to a stop just half an inch from Matt’s nose. “You know what, Matt? You’re not good enough to have your face reshaped by my hands.”

  Hell! You could at least kick dirt on him, or something, Alex mumbled. But I suppose I would have done the same thing, too, even if he is a lily-livered buzzard.

  “Picture him behind bars for most of his life,” Jon suggested to Alex, as he turned away from Matt. “It’s not nearly what he deserves, but I’m afraid that’s about the best our justice system will dish out.”

  Jon wrapped his arm once more around Elizabeth’s waist. “I’m proud of you,” she said, kissing him softly.

  “I would have hit him if he hadn’t been handcuffed, but that would have put me at his level. I’m better than that.”

  Jon hitched Elizabeth a little closer to his side. “Ready to go home, Ellie?”

  “Home?” She turned toward the burning embers of the old hotel. “For the second time in a year, I don’t have a home to go to.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong, Ellie.” Jon kissed her tenderly. “You have a home. With me.”

  Chapter 21

  “What do we do now?” Jon sat in a chair in Amanda’s bedroom, elbows balanced on his knees, and twiddled his thumbs.

  “I haven’t a clue.” Elizabeth prowled around the room, the same thing she’d done for the past hour, hoping, she’d told Jon, that some clue might magically pop out of the woodwork. “Alexander’s gotten his revenge, and we can prove his innocence. You’ll recover all the property. It seems something should just happen. You know—poof and Alex and Amanda should be together again, headed for the pearly gates.”

  Jon stopped twiddling and rested his head in his hands.

  “Are you in pain again?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Just tired,” he answered, afraid to tell her his true thoughts and concerns. The pain had dissipated somewhat, but he seemed to have less control over his thoughts. His imagination was conjuring all sorts of things foreign to him, like the streets of Sapphire teeming with horses and buggies, men carrying pistols and women in long dresses. He remembered the taste of sarsaparilla, the scent of bay rum, and the lemon verbena that Mrs. Lee at the dry goods store used to wear. One vision almost filled his mind entirely—a pretty woman with golden curls and a pink-and-white-striped parasol just stepping off a train.

  Jon put his head in his hands as too many visions that weren’t his own flitted through his mind. Visions that frightened and worried him.

  Rising from the chair, he strolled across the room and wrapped his arms around Elizabeth, pulling her close, wanting to remember her softness, her scent. He lowered his mouth and covered hers, needing to know her taste, the touch of her lips, the feel of his heart when it beat out of control, and the erotic emotions that coursed through him when her breasts pressed against his chest.

  He needed his own memories, not Alexander’s.

  He thought of the love he had for Elizabeth, the hunger to be near her for ever and ever. Suddenly that passion that overwhelmed him when he thought of Elizabeth and held her in his arms pushed aside all those other remembrances, things only Alex should know.

  He eased away from Elizabeth, looking into her amber eyes. “I love you,” he whispered, and the pain began to flow back again. He struggled to breathe and Elizabeth looked frightened. Tears fell from her eyes.

  “What’s happening?” she cried.

  “I think Alex is taking over my mind and body, not that he wants to, it’s just happening. All my thoughts are jumbled. One moment I’m thinking of you; the next, all I can think of is Amanda.”

  Jon tore his fingers from Elizabeth’s arms and pressed his palms to his temple, trying to still the ache bouncing around in his head. Somehow he had to stop the torture. He had to get Alex out. Now.

  If only Amanda were here, he thought. If only...

  He stumbled toward the vanity. “I think I know how to help Alex,” he said. “My grandfather told me he’d talked to Amanda long after she died. He was lonely and he sensed her near. I believed him because I’d talked to Alex.”

  “You think she’s here somewhere?” Elizabeth asked.

  “She has to be.”

  Like a madman, Jon sorted through the photos of Amanda, the locket, her ribbons, her letter. He touched everything Alex had taken from the hotel, and then he began to talk to Alex, who’d been quiet far too long.

  Jon lifted one of the photos of Amanda and held it to his heart. “Talk to me, Alex. Amanda was awfully pretty, wasn’t she?”

  Alex remained silent.

  “Talk to me, Alex. Please.”

  Jon sensed Alex taking a deep breath; he felt his sorrow. She was the prettiest thing I ever saw.

  Alex had to remember more. He had to call out for Amanda.

  Jon lifted the locket and popped open the front. “Remember the night you gave her this?” Jon asked, looking at the inscription and the photo inside.

  It was the last time I kissed her. I’ve always remembered that moment.

  “One hundred years is a long time to remember a kiss,” Jon said.

  I would never forget anything that reminded me of Amanda.

  “Do you think she remembered it, too?”

  A lilting voice filled the room. I remembered.

  The curtains at the window rustled, even though the window was shut tight and no one in the room was moving.

  Did you hear that? It’s Amanda.

  “I heard her, Alex.”

  Elizabeth slipped her hand into Jon’s. Her fingers felt cold against the burning heat of his skin. The pain soared, taking away all his strength and energy.

  “Talk to her, Alex,” Jon said.

  I can’t. She won’t hear me.

  “Then tell me, and I’ll repeat the words.”

  Jon waited, and he smiled when Alex finally spoke. “Don’t worry, Alex. I won’t get the words wrong.”

  He waited again and, slowly he recited Alex’s words. “This would have been my wedding vow to you, Amanda, had I been at your side.” Jon took a deep breath and clutched at Elizabeth’s arm. Slowly he began again when Alex continued. “It comes a hundred years too late, but I still mean every word.” Jon swallowed and listened. “Amanda,” he repeated after Alex, “you are my life, my soul. Wherever you go, I will go with you. To be at your side forever is all that I ask, in this life and in the next.” Jon closed his eyes. He could feel Alexander’s tears, his mixture of happiness and loss. “I’ll love you, my darling, forever.”

  A light, cool breeze wafted through the room. It touched Jon’s face in a soft caress, then backed away, whirling gently about. It took on color and form, a mouth, a nose, blue eyes, and blond ringlets. Like an angel, Amanda appeared in a flowing white gown with a halo of pink rosebuds and ribbons about her crown.

  She smiled at Elizabeth and at Jon, then reached out a dainty hand. “Come to me, Alexander. I’ve waited so long for you to return.”

  Alex swooped out of Jon’s body and sent him reeling backward against the wall. Elizabeth rushed to Jon’s side and knelt down, and together they watched the reunion.

  Alex caressed Amanda’s cheek and tenderly tilted her face toward him. He kissed the woman he loved with one hundred years of longing, and with a vow never to leave aga
in.

  Amanda led him toward the window, but he stopped, pulling back, and Jon feared Alex might be changing his mind. Alex looked at Amanda and smiled. “Just a few last things to take care of, and then I’m yours forever.”

  He floated toward Elizabeth and cradled her face in his hands. “Thank you for everything. The hugs, the love, the dance.” Elizabeth had tears streaming down her face and Alex brushed one away. “Don’t cry for me. Not now, when I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “I’m not. I’m crying for me, because I don’t want to lose you.”

  He put his hand over her heart. “I’ll always be here.”

  Alex turned to Jon. “You know, son, they don’t make Winchesters any finer than you.”

  “Who’s a Winchester? My name’s Stewart now.” Jon felt tears welling up in his eyes and his throat tightened, a lump the size of Montana stuck inside. “I’ve got a few headstones to have recarved, and I thought you might not mind if we buried you with Amanda.” Jon forced a smile. “She’s in between Jedediah and Thomas. Seems like a good place for you to be, too.”

  Alex nodded.

  “You’re the best great-grandson a man could ever wish for.” Alex touched Jon’s shoulder lightly. He drew in a deep breath. “I love you.”

  “Me, too.”

  With one soft smile, Alex drifted away from Jon and Elizabeth, wiping tears from his eyes. He slipped his hand into Amanda’s, squeezing it tightly. “I’m-ready now.”

  The curtains fluttered again and the window opened gently, letting in moonlight and a few errant flakes of snow.

  “Wait!” Alex cried out. “Thunder and tarnation, I forgot one more thing.”

  Amanda smiled indulgently, as if she’d put up with Alexander’s antics before—and loved him just the same.

  Alex pulled the wedding ring from his little finger and slipped it onto the ring finger of Amanda’s left hand. “I’ve been waiting to do that for one hundred years. I love you, Amanda, I really do.”

  “I love you, too, Alexander. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

  Chapter 22

  Nothing remained of the Sapphire Hotel but a marble mantel, charred timbers, twisted pipes, and crumbling brick chimneys. Here and there Jon and Elizabeth found bits and pieces of Tiffany lamps and shattered chandeliers, all of it coated with a sprinkling of powdery-white snow.

  Elizabeth considered taking pictures for posterity, but it wasn’t a sight she wanted to remember. She had recollections of good times inside with Jon and Alex—and not even Pulitzer Prize-winning photos could compare with her memories.

  When the ashes cooled, Jon led the sheriff and coroner to Alexander’s makeshift grave. Jon had slowly uncovered the skeleton, surprised to see the golden wedding band gone from Alex’s little finger. He’d thought at first it might have been stolen, and then he realized Alex had put that ring on Amanda’s finger right before they’d floated off to heaven—and it was probably on her finger now.

  It seemed a crazy notion, but crazier things had occurred in Jon’s lifetime.

  The only thing that really made sense out of all that had happened was falling in love with Elizabeth.

  A week after Alexander’s funeral—which most everyone in town attended so they could hear the real story of Alex’s life and death—Jon watched Elizabeth cry as a bulldozer cleared away the hotel’s remains, and not long after, he watched her smile when dark green sod was laid over the leveled ground.

  The people of Sapphire banded together the first days of spring and built a large white gazebo where the kitchen had been, and the pink and white marble mantel salvaged from the parlor became part of the foundation for the monument Jon would soon be carving. Alex had lived in the hotel for over one hundred years, and Jon and Elizabeth had every intention of his memory living there for one or two hundred years more.

  They designed a statue of Alex that Jon would cast in bronze, but when he finished the sketch, they knew something was missing. It didn’t take long before Amanda was added to the drawing, she and Alex standing face to face, hand in hand, just as they’d have stood together on their wedding day.

  It was the perfect addition to the park where a hotel had once stood.

  On the last day of April, with the sun shining brightly and puffy white clouds painting the sky, Libby collected bets as nearly a hundred and one citizens of Sapphire filled the rented chairs lined up in rows before the gazebo draped in red and white ribbons and lace. She’d wagered with everyone that Jon and Elizabeth would be married in April—and Libby prided herself on always being right.

  Jon stood at the edge of the gazebo’s steps, decked out in a specially tailored black tux, with Harry at his side, and when the twelve-piece orchestra Elizabeth had hired from Helena played the Wedding March, all eyes turned to see the bride on the arm of her brother, walking up the red-carpeted path through the newly dedicated Alexander and Amanda Stewart Memorial Garden.

  Jon’s sapphire eyes glistened as he watched his bride glide toward him. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, and he loved her more and more with each passing day.

  Elizabeth’s amber eyes sparkled as she looked at Jon, big and powerful and full of passion. Her life had seemed so empty until he’d stepped into it and she knew that nothing, not even the collapse of another home, would ever, ever keep them apart.

  He took her hand and they gazed into each other’s eyes while repeating their vows. He slipped a ring on her finger. She slipped one on his. They smiled as he cradled her face in his big hands and she threaded her fingers through his hair. Slowly, ever so slowly, Jon lowered his head and tenderly kissed his wife, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

  He slid his hands from her face to her waist, lifted her from the ground and into his arms, and kissed her with a passion that had been building from the moment he’d seen her set foot on the icy streets of Sapphire.

  “I love you, Mrs. Stewart,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too, Mr. Stewart,” she answered.

  They spent the next few hours slicing cake, posing for pictures, and dancing with one and all, and when the festivities were winding down, Jon took his bride’s hand and stole her away from the crowd.

  Together they walked to the end of town and up the steps to Dalton House. Jon lifted his bride, carrying her over the threshold, up the winding staircase, past Amanda’s favorite chandelier and the stained glass windows Amanda’s father had had imported from England over a hundred years before.

  “I really am capable of walking,” Elizabeth said, as she planted kisses on her husband’s neck.

  “Humor me, okay? It’s my wedding day, and I want everything to be perfect.”

  “It is perfect.”

  He slowed as he reached the arched doorway leading to his turret. “It’s going to be even more perfect when I show you what’s upstairs.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “What is it?”

  “A surprise.” He lifted her a little higher, a little closer in his arms, pushed through the doorway, and bounded up the stairs.

  Setting her down in the middle of his studio, Jon leaned against his worktable and pointed a finger to a bright red box on the gold satin chaise. “That’s my wedding present to you.”

  “But you’ve already gotten me a present,” she said, moving toward him, weaving her fingers through his hair and kissing his cheek. “You’re taking me to Europe, remember? And you’re going to buy crystal chandeliers for all the bedrooms, including the ones we talked about filling with kids. You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

  “I haven’t forgotten a thing. But this is something special—something, well, a little more intimate than crystal chandeliers.”

  Elizabeth grinned and slowly traced a finger across his lips. “But I haven’t gotten you a gift.”

  “The present I’ve gotten you is for me, too. It’s something I’ve wanted for a good long time now.”

  “I suppose you’d like me to open it then?”

  He didn’t say a word; h
e only nodded.

  Still in her wedding gown, Elizabeth looked like an angel floating across his turret floor. But she wasn’t an angel; he’d known that from the beginning, and that was why he liked her so very, very much.

  He watched her slide the gold ribbon and bow from the box and lift the lid. She drew tissue paper out of the box, studied the contents, then looked up and smiled. “Would you like me to try my present on now, or later?”

  “Now.”

  Elizabeth crooked her index finger and beckoned him toward her. “Mind helping me change?”

  Shaking his head, Jon walked toward his wife, and when she turned her back to him, he carefully, with somewhat shaky fingers, made a slow descent down the length of her dress, unhooking what seemed like a hundred minuscule pearl buttons.

  Elizabeth held her hair over her head and he kissed a trail along the curve of her spine, while he slipped the gown over her shoulders and down her arms. He turned her around, fighting for breath as he admired the radiance of her porcelain skin lit by the late afternoon sun. “God, you’re beautiful, Ellie.”

  He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her temples, and her lips, tasting her sweetness as he loosened the clasp of her bra and let it fall away. He captured her breasts in his hands, kneading their softness, tasting their warmth as he moved lower and lower.

  He heard her gentle sighs, the deepness of her breathing as his fingers smoothed across her stomach and over her hips.

  Lifting her, he laid her on the chaise, beginning another slow trail of kisses over her feverish flesh until he reached her thigh high stockings. Slipping a finger under the top, he slowly slid one stocking and shoe from her longer than long leg and did the same with the other. There was only one barrier left, and he captured the elastic of her white satin tap pants and drew them over her hips and thighs and knees and tossed them somewhere behind him. He stood above her, swallowing hard, trying to keep a grip on his body until she was wearing her present, until he’d gotten his gift in return.