The Ghost and Katie Coyle

by Anne Kelleher

  “I’m so sorry,” Katie whispered.

  “But you—you have her face. And when I saw you, I thought surely, surely there was a reason for your coming here, of all places. And I saw that you were a scholar of history—Irish history, no less. And I thought perhaps you were Caitlin, come back to me.”

  Katie drew a quick breath that caught in her throat. “Oh, Derry.” Once more their eyes met, and this time she felt a spark of desire shudder through her. What was it about this man—living or not—that called to her more fervently than any other had ever done before?

  He reached out and picked up her hand. Her head jerked up and before she knew it, he had gathered her into his arms. The stark light from the flashlight illuminated the sharp planes of his face, and his eyes glittered. His embrace was strong and demanding, and at the same time somehow comforting. She had just enough time to murmur his name when he bent his head and kissed her.

  His mouth was warm and sweet and his lips were firm and insistent. She gasped as passion flooded through her, a hot tide of feeling that engulfed her like a wave. A warning bell tolled in her mind that this wasn’t real—couldn’t be real—but the feelings were so deep and hot and strong, she raised her arms and twined her fingers in his thick, black hair and opened her mouth to his.

  Finally, he drew back. His words surprised her. “Forgive me.” He got to his feet and she stared up at him, her heart pounding, her whole body trembling.

  “Forgive me, Katie Coyle. I wanted to ask for your help.”

  She stood up a little unsteadily. “There’s nothing to forgive. Of course I’ll help you, Derry. I’m not sure what I can do, but of course I’ll help you. What is it you want?”

  His response surprised her. He stared at her a long moment. “I used to think I knew exactly what I wanted,” he said at last. “But now I don’t really know at all.” He turned away. “It’s getting late, and it’s getting cold. You can’t stay out here.”

  “We’ll talk again tomorrow?” she asked uncertainly.

  He nodded, eyes closed. “Whenever you wish.”

  “I’ll see you then.” She picked up the flashlight and turned to go and his voice echoed in her mind. “And in your dreams, Katie Coyle. In your dreams.”

  She turned around, and knew before she did that he was gone.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The envelope icon was flashing on her screen when Katie stepped into the house. She sat down at the computer. Her fingers were shaking as she clicked at the keyboard. Get a grip, she told herself. Get a grip? her mind mocked. You just spent an hour with one of the best-looking men you’ve ever met, and he just told you he’s a ghost. And he made you feel like no one’s ever made you feel before. Oh, sure, Katie. Get a grip.

  She silenced the little voice with a will she didn’t know she had, and clicked on the envelope.

  “Hey, you. My friend came through big time…‌and in more ways than one, if you get my drift. :) Anyway, here’s what he told me. That ship you asked about, The Wild Rose of Kerry, sailed from Cork in September of 1799. She was heading for Van Diemen’s Land in Australia with a load of convicts. She never arrived, and she’s listed as being lost at sea. If you want more information, let me know. Kisses, Meggie.”

  Katie stared at the screen. She clicked on the “reply” icon, and typed: “Thanks very, very much. Is there any chance you could get a list of the prisoners? I’ll call you tomorrow. Kisses, Katie.” She hit the “send” button, leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. She was going to try and corroborate Derry’s story any way she could. He should be able to point her to court documents which, if they existed, might enable her to piece together his fate and that of his family.

  She glanced at the clock and sighed. After seven. She should do some reading for tomorrow, but she was too restless. She got to her feet and paced to the window. It was difficult to believe Derry’s story, but it certainly explained quite a lot. There was so much she wanted to ask him. It was hard to restrain herself from going back out to the Stones.

  The telephone’s shrill ring startled her out of her reverie.

  “Hello?” she said as she picked it up.

  “Hello, Kate’” Alistair’s voice grated on her nerves, and she closed her eyes. He was the last person she wanted to talk to tonight.

  “Hi, Alistair. How are you?”

  “Just fine, thanks. Listen, I wanted to know if you were planning on coming to Pater and Mum’s shindig this Friday.”

  “This Friday?” Katie searched her memory, and drew a blank.

  “Yes, you must’ve gotten the invite. It’s for the whole department. You wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  “Of course not,” Katie said, thinking furiously. There was no question that she had to attend. “Of course I’ll be there.”

  “That’s just great, then. We can hang out and have a drink or two, and then you can make good on your rain check. How’s that sound?”

  “Oh.” Katie groaned inwardly. “Sure, Alistair. That would be fine.” There was no other way to get him off her back, and this would provide the perfect opportunity to ask him more about his theory on the fate of the Earl of Kilmartin. After all, a little voice whispered, Derry could be lying.

  “The festivities start at five. How’s your work coming?”

  “Just fine.” She tiptoed over to the front door, opened it, and pressed the doorbell. “Oh my, there’s the doorbell. I have to run. I’ll see you Friday, Alistair.”

  “Absolutely…”

  Katie hung up and sagged. Just what she needed. An evening listening to Alistair Proser expound on his favorite topics wasn’t at the top of her most-wanted list.

  Idiotic popinjay.

  The voice in her mind startled her even more than the telephone had. “Derry?” she said aloud. “Is that you?”

  The man’s a liar.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Everything he said the other day was a lie. He doesn’t know what happened to me.

  “But Derry, perhaps he’s found your brother. Isn’t it possible he might have assumed your identity, when you didn’t return?”

  That was impossible. The title was forfeit to the Crown.

  “I’ve started to do some checking on my own. I’ll have some answers for you, hopefully soon. And on Friday, when I see that ‘idiotic popinjay,’ as you so eloquently put it, I’ll ask him more about how he reached his conclusions.”

  She rubbed her temples.

  Thank you.

  The air rippled with an invisible energy, and Katie caught a hint of bay rum and felt the slightest pressure on her face. Derry had kissed her cheek.

  • • •

  Within the silent circle. the air was charged with a silent, incipient energy that pulsated to the marrow of Katie’s bones. She felt, rather than saw, his hands reach around her and cup her breasts, pressing her back against his chest. He bent his head and nibbled on her ear until Katie sighed with pleasure. She turned in his embrace, and his mouth was warm and welcoming, and somehow, before she knew quite what had happened, they were lying on the forest floor, and the ground beneath her was spongy and soft, and the man above her blotted out the trees and the Stones and the sky. There was nothing in the world but him—his arms and mouth and chest, all pressing her down, and her body felt liquid, as though she melted into him.

  And somehow they were one, joined at lips and loins, and they moved together in a timeless, ancient harmony, flowing in and out of each other, as if they had ceased to be flesh at all, and instead were made of something at once far less substantial and far more real.

  Her body throbbed with his, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and felt herself dissolve in a burst of heat and light so brilliant, she shut her eyes and knew she cried out his name over and over again.

  The red numbers on the clock read 5:16. Katie twined her fingers in the sheets, still breathing hard. Her whole body was quivering, and she pressed her lips together, willing herself to
calm down. Her heart pounded audibly in her chest. She sat up. This had to stop. These dreams were too real—too unnerving. She’d dreamed of lovers before, but never had a dream seemed so…‌so genuine. It was as if it were actually happening. She ran her fingers through her thick curls and got out of bed.

  The sky was a dark gray. She dressed quickly, pulling on her clothes from the previous day. She made a cup of tea, and carrying the mug and her flashlight, made her way down the path to the Stones.

  Inside the circle, she paused. She had to talk this over with him. These dreams couldn’t continue. She drew a deep breath. “Derry?”

  Immediately he stepped around a Stone into view. He was wearing only the tattered rags of his breeches and shirt. “Good morning, Katie.”

  “I—I need to talk to you.”

  “It is a bit early,” he said. “Not that it matters to me. But you should be abed, getting your full measure of beauty rest.”

  “It’s a little hard to rest when…” To her horror, she felt herself blush.

  “When?” He took one single step closer, and she felt her heart leap in response. She bit her lip.

  “When you make me dream of you that way…”

  “What way?” he asked, his voice not much more than a whisper. In the shadows she could not see his eyes, but his words were as soft as a caress.

  “That—that way, when you make me dream of…‌touching…‌and kissing…‌and…” She broke off, stumbling over her words, feeling as tongue-tied as a schoolgirl. She took a long drink of her tea and hoped the dim light hid the trembling of her hand.

  “1 had nothing to do with your dreams last night, Katie.” She heard, rather than saw, him take another step toward her. “What exactly did you dream?”

  She tightened both hands around her mug. “You didn’t?”

  “No.” He paused. “What was it? Did it frighten you?”

  “No—I mean, yes—not really, no, but it was so—so real. So—”

  “So?” He was beside her, and he tilted her chin up with the tips of his fingers. “So what?”

  She swallowed hard. In the soft gray light of dawn, she could see how blue his eyes were, how chiseled his mouth and cheekbones. The memory of his kiss the day before flashed through her mind and she felt a tingle run down her spine. “So very—”

  “Like this?” he murmured, and then he gathered her mouth to his.

  She stiffened momentarily, and then relaxed as his arms wrapped around her, drawing her close. Through her thick sweater she could feel his body pressing against hers, and she opened her mouth as he ran his tongue along the edges of her lips.

  He reached beneath her sweater and cupped her breast in one smooth hand, rolling the hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped through his kiss, and he raised his head. He only smiled down at her, and bent his head once more.

  Somehow the mug was no longer in her hands, and they were lying in the center of the circle, and the mossy earth felt as comfortable as the mattress of her bed. A distinct, damp odor rose from the ground, a green scent that seemed to pulse with that same elusive energy she remembered from her dream.

  But she had little time to consider it, for he was above her, and somehow, they were naked, their clothes in scattered heaps, and he was pressing against her, and she was raising her hips to meet him, drawing him deep inside her, until he had buried himself to the hilt in her warm, wet depths.

  His face was buried in her hair and one hand stroked her breast while the other caressed her face. She writhed beneath him, her body seeking its own release, and he drew back a little, and laughed softly in her ear, biting the lobe.

  She moaned in protest, and he thrust harder. Again and again he drove deep, plunging into the very core of her, and she gripped his shoulders and wrapped both legs around him, her hips undulating against his, until they shuddered together in one last release.

  A little while later, he raised his head and moved away from her. He handed her her clothes, and his words startled her. “Forgive me.”

  “For what?” She pulled her sweater over her head.

  “I—I didn’t mean it to go so far.” He stood up, pulling on his breeches, and she couldn’t help but stare at the long lines of his hard-muscled thighs and calves. He turned around to face her, holding the ragged remnants of his shirt.

  “I wanted it, too,” she said quietly.

  “Katie,” he sank down beside her, and picked up her hand. “There’s nothing I can offer you. I’m as helpless as a newborn baby. I own nothing, I have nothing—I am, quite literally, nothing. I have no right—”

  “Derry, I want nothing from you. I’m happy to help you as best I can, in any way I can. And don’t you suppose I wanted this, too?” She met his eyes and smiled.

  He hesitated, then smiled back. “Ah, Katie. I don’t want you to think I took advantage of you in your dreams.”

  She laughed softly. “I think I’m old enough to be responsible for my own dreams.” She took a deep breath and glanced up. The sky was blue and the light had changed from gray to gold. It filtered through the trees in long shafts. “It’s getting late. I’d better be going.”

  “Will you come back?” There was a plaintive note in his voice that made her long to right whatever wrongs had been done to him.

  “Of course I will. Later. After class.” She picked up her mug and started down the path, and this time when she turned back to wave, he watched her from beneath the trees, all the way back to the house.

  When she stepped inside, the clock read 7:10. She put the mug down and splashed cold water from the kitchen sink on her face. She had never experienced anything like that in her life. Just her luck that he happened to be a ghost.

  It was after noon in Ireland, she realized. Maybe she could catch her sister. She dialed Meggie’s number. On the fourth ring, a deep, masculine voice answered: “Hello?”

  “Hello,” Katie said. “Is Meggie Coyle there?”

  “Meg’s at the library. Is this her sister?”

  “How did you know?”

  “You sound just like her. I’m Patrick Ryan, a friend of hers. She’ll be back by teatime. I’ll be sure to tell her you called.”

  “Thanks.” Katie hesitated. “Are you the friend who has the interest in the late eighteenth century?”

  “The one and the same. Did she pass on to you what I was able to find out about that ship?”

  “Yes, she did, and I was wondering, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, if you could dig a bit further. I can pay you for your time, if it’s a burden.”

  “No trouble at all, so far. What else can I tell you?”

  “Well, you wouldn’t know if there was a list of passengers, would you? Some record of who was on the ship?”

  “There may be a list,” he replied. “But it wasn’t a passenger ship. The convicts were considered less than human, you know, and treated accordingly. I doubt there’s a list in existence of all the names.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “Who are you looking for?”

  “I’m not sure how the name would be listed. Timothy O’Riordan, or possibly Kilmartin. He was the brother of—”

  “The Missing Earl. You think that’s the ship he was put on to go to Australia?”

  “Yes,” said Katie. “I think I found what happened to the ship, though. It’s listed in the archives of the town here as a shipwreck. The date of the wreck tallies with the date you gave me for when it sailed from Cork. There were no survivors of the wreck, so I guess it can’t be substantiated that the ships are one and the same, but—”

  “It’s unlikely there were two ships of the same time with the same name out of the same port.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll do some checking. Perhaps in the court records of the trial there’s some mention of the ship.”

  “They exist?”

  “Oh, yes. They’re sketchy, of course. But Timothy O’Riordan was a member of the landed nobility. He was no commo
n rebel. I’ll see what I can find for you.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate it. And please, tell Meggie I called.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Katie replaced the receiver and stood a few moments considering. It would be interesting to hear what Alistair would say. If he would say anything. Somehow, she had the feeling that he was going to be very coy about revealing anything to do with his topic. And she wondered what he’d say if he knew that she was about to begin an informal investigation herself. Somehow, she didn’t think he would be very pleased at all.

  Suddenly she missed Meg very much. Ever since she’d come to East Bay, the situation had been difficult. First had come Josh breaking up with her, then the obvious hostility from her department chair, and Alistair’s unwelcome interest. And now this. She really needed someone to talk to, but who would understand?

  She glanced at the telephone. Mary. Of course, Mary Monahan. Hadn’t she said she’d be around when Katie needed to talk? That’s exactly what I’ll do, she decided as she turned on the taps for the shower. I’ll call Mary from school today. I could use a sympathetic ear. Not to mention a warm shoulder.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I hope you understand that I felt very bad about deceiving you about Derry,” said Mary as she poured milk from a cow-shaped pitcher into her tea. She offered the pitcher to Katie and picked up a teaspoon. “It wasn’t my intention to lie to you. But he wanted your help so desperately, and quite honestly, I couldn’t think of any way to tell you the truth without you thinking that I was as crazy as everyone wants to believe. So I’m sorry. I hope you can understand.”

  Katie stirred her tea slowly. She looked around Mary’s sunny living room. It was a cozy room, filled with plants and books and candles and dozens of interesting artifacts from what could only be exotic locations. Mary’s two shelties lay on the floor at their feet, snoring lazily. “Of course I understand. I can’t quite believe it myself. I’m just glad you can reassure me that I’m not crazy. It’s just…” She shook her head. “I just don’t know what to do.”