Possessing Elissa

by Donna Sterling

  The familiar electricity flashed through them at his touch, but he didn’t fight it this time. He wanted to saturate her with his emotions.

  She felt his righteous anger, his determination to be believed, and above all, his burning need. The force of it was too powerful to endure and pried them apart, propelling her from his grasp.

  Shaken to the core, Elissa caught her balance against a tree, too dizzy to see straight, too confused to make sense of things. She’d felt no guilt from him. No deception. He truly seemed to believe what he was telling her.

  But how could that be? Dean surely hadn’t lied, especially not when he’d known how dire her situation was.

  “Trust me, Elissa,” came Jesse’s ragged whisper.

  She released her supporting hold on the tree trunk and looked around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  “Jesse!” she cried. “Don’t you dare leave me now!”

  She received no answer. Disappointment, frustration and self-blame violently assaulted her. Why had she goaded him into a quarrel? Why had she allowed him to touch her? She hadn’t even tried to guide him toward the beckoning light She hadn’t had a chance to forgive him...regardless of what he had or had not done in the wretched past

  Heartsick for wasting what might have been her last encounter with him, Elissa weakly returned to where Cody sucked his fingers and watched her from his stroller.

  A fog had begun to descend in wispy swirls above the river. The black Spanish moss on the branches of the towering oaks swayed ghostlike. A seagull dove from a low-hanging cloud, his cry sharp and mocking.

  Elissa blindly stared into the thickening mist, her throat aching with wasted chances. “I’m not finished talking to you yet, Jesse!” she admonished out loud, grasping the stroller bar until her fingers hurt.

  Though he hadn’t quite enough energy left to voice a reply, Jesse thought, I’m not finished with you yet, either.

  A car motored past Elissa on the narrow road, then pulled into Jesse’s driveway. A dusty tan station wagon. The look of surprise on her face told Jesse she hadn’t been expecting visitors.

  The car door opened and a familiar stodgy form with sandy brown curls and wire-rimmed glasses unfolded from the driver’s seat

  Dean. With a small bouquet of roses in one hand and an overnight bag in the other.

  9

  “DEAN, WHAT ARE YOU doing here?”

  Elissa’s wide-eyed greeting gave Jesse no clue as to whether she considered the surprise a pleasant one. He himself would have phrased the question differently. He would have said what the hell are you doing here.

  Unfortunately, his brief contact with Elissa had siphoned his energy to a dangerous low. He tried to speak, but found he had no voice. And he was obviously invisible even to Elissa.

  This handicap was getting more annoying by the moment

  From the grin on Dean’s face as he shuffled toward Elissa, Jesse knew his cousin felt confident about the welcome he’d receive. “I was worried about you and Cody being here alone. And I missed you too much.” He planted a kiss on her cheek. “So I spent yesterday working on plans for my sub, and arranged personal leave for tomorrow and Tuesday.”

  He handed her the bouquet of red roses with a courtly bow. It had been just that kind of cornball move that had earned Dean jeers throughout school—and had drawn Jesse into fistfights to vindicate him.

  As Elissa murmured her thanks, Dean squatted down beside the stroller. “And how’s our little man?” He pulled from his sweater pocket a yellow, pretzel-shaped teething ring that squeaked as he squeezed it Cody reached for it with a smile, his chubby legs kicking beneath the stroller tray.

  A vague ache twisted through Jesse. His son responded immediately to Dean, but hadn’t even seen Jesse. Brusquely, he told himself he should be glad that Cody liked Dean. He was, after all, his cousin. Probably the closest Cody would ever have to an uncle. And maybe the closest he’ll have to a father. Jesse scowled at the thought He was Cody’s father, and always would be.

  Why, then, did Dean’s presence fill him with resentment? Dean had been like a younger brother to him all through their boyhood—irritating at times with his holier-than-thou attitude, but always an ally at home where the adults stood united in chronic disapproval of Jesse.

  Dean and he had fished together near the family’s beach cottage on Tybee Island, and they’d water-skied. Or rather, Jesse had skied while Dean drove the boat and muttered dire predictions about the shark-infested waters. Jesse had shown him his first girlie magazine, back when that was high excitement. They’d been like brothers.

  The night before Jesse was to ship out for his overseas mission, the premonition of death had been riding heavy in his gut He had stopped to say goodbye to Dean; an impulsive visit, but one that had seemed important.

  The visit had proven important, but for a different reason than he’d expected. That night he’d met and made love to Elissa.

  It was only now, as he watched Dean play up to her, that his resentment kicked in. Dean ruffled the baby’s dark, wispy hair, then rose from his squatting position. Reaching into the pocket of his cardigan, he brought out a rectangular box and handed it to Elissa. “And this is for you.”

  Hesitantly, she opened it and eyed the contents in surprise. “A telephone.”

  “Cellular. I couldn’t sleep a wink after you told me about that flat tire you had on the way here. Thank heavens you were able to change it”

  Her cheeks pinkened and she avoided Dean’s gaze. So, she hadn’t told Dean about his presence. Her words from Friday morning returned to Jesse with new importance: Everyone thinks you’re dead. I think you’re dead. Did she plan to carry on as if he weren’t there?

  “This is sweet of you, Dean, but I can’t accept—”

  “I’ve already paid for the first month of basic service. Keep it at least until you’re back home, safe and sound.”

  Jesse’s lips stretched taut. As always, Dean had done the right thing. She did need a cellular phone while she was on the road. He himself should have thought of it

  With a sudden flash of insight, he recognized the look in Dean’s besotted blue eyes as Elissa thanked him. It had been there when Dean had nursed obsessive crushes on girls at school. He hadn’t acted on any of those crushes, way back then. He’d slept with their photos beneath his pillow, phoned them to hear their voices before he hung up, scrawled their names in his notebooks a thousand times over.

  Jesse had been very careful to keep his hands off any woman Dean wanted. Dismay lodged like a rock in his stomach. Elissa would have to be the exception.

  He watched as she scooped up Cody. Dean folded the stroller, packed it into her car and retrieved from his trunk two bags of groceries, which, he said, included fresh apples from a fruit stand, since he knew she loved them.

  Jesse realized that he himself hadn’t a clue as to what Elissa loved. Food-wise, at least. Then again, he knew exactly how to please her in other ways. Important ways. Ways that whetted a very different appetite.

  Did Dean?

  With teeth on edge, Jesse followed the couple as they climbed the front steps and entered his house. The oak door swung closed behind them and he put out a hand to stop it. The door didn’t even slow as it shut in his face.

  Jesse drew back and stared at his hand. The door had passed right through it. He tried to turn the knob, but his hand wouldn’t connect with the solid material.

  For the first time since he’d become aware of his “condition,” alarm buzzed through him. He had passed through this door before, but only because he had wanted to, not because he couldn’t open it.

  With a technique he had deployed during the worst of his military endeavors, he cleared his mind of the alarm. He couldn’t waste energy on unnecessary emotion. When his inner calm had been restored, he passed through the heavy oak door with only the slightest depletion of precious energy.

  Once inside, he tried to lift an ashtray.

  He couldn’t, and the
attempt left him weaker still: He had to rest, to marshal his strength, to stay silently on the sidelines. Until he could do more, of course. In a way he didn’t fully understand, he retreated to an altered state that required the least amount of effort.

  Throughout that Sunday afternoon, he observed their actions and heard the murmur of their conversation, but from an oddly distanced perspective. As if he were dreaming it.

  Elissa took Dean on a tour of the house, then walked him around the gardens. They strolled down to the river, arm in arm, with Cody snuggled against Dean’s shoulder. It wasn’t until that evening, after they’d put Cody to bed and shared a supper of pot roast and vegetables, that Jesse’s faculties sharpened. Elissa washed the dishes and Dean dried. They handed each other plates and glasses with smooth regularity, as if they’d been doing this kind of teamwork for years.

  Cozy. Too damn cozy.

  It hit Jesse then like a radar-guided missile: if he never returned to normal, if this affliction remained or grew worse, Dean would be a good husband for Elissa. A good father to Cody. He wondered if Elissa was in love with him.

  Bleakness, gray and suffocating, descended on Jesse. She was a vibrant young woman, alone with a child. Why shouldn’t she have fallen in love with a man who was always there for her?

  A sick heaviness crowded his chest. He couldn’t stand to think of her in Dean’s arms. In Dean’s bed. In Dean’s life, as his woman, as his wife.

  No, he couldn’t accept that. Elissa was his. He didn’t question the truth of this any more than he questioned his own existence. How could she not be meant for him? She filled up the emptiness that had once com prised the greater part of his soul. She’d replaced that emptiness with substance, warmth, vigor and light No other man would claim her. Not if he could help it But that’s where the problem came in.

  If this peculiar ailment continued, he’d be little more than a fly on the wall. Maybe he was being selfish to want her for himself.

  Shaken, Jesse tuned in to their conversation, determined to hear every word. He realized they were speaking about him.

  “I’ll miss him,” Dean was saying as he dried a bowl. “Oh, I know we didn’t have much in common. But we...we looked out for each other, Jesse and I.”

  Guilt weighted Jesse down. Here he was, fully intending to take Elissa away from Dean, while Dean stood mourning him.

  “Not that Jesse was ever an angel.” Dean shook his head at some amusing memory. “I could tell you some kind of stories.”

  Elissa lifted a brow, her interest caught. “Oh?”

  Mild displeasure shaded Dean’s eyes, as if he hadn’t expected, or wanted, too much response to his melancholy musing. “Nothing you’d want to hear, actually.”

  “No, but I would. He was Cody’s father,” she reminded him. “I’d like to know as much as I can about him, to someday share with Cody.”

  His thin bottom lip drew so tight it almost disappeared. “You might not want to share Jesse’s antics with an impressionable child.”

  Jesse raised his brows. Which stories had Dean planned to tell? As he thought back, though, he couldn’t think of many he’d want Cody to imitate.

  “Jesse couldn’t have been all that bad,” countered Elissa, “or he would have ended up in jail.”

  “He barely missed it. If it hadn’t been for the family’s influence...”

  “Are you talking about the girls’ dormitory incident?”

  “That, and others. He started on the wrong road early. While I was at my Scout meetings, he was loitering with a gang at the corner store, shoplifting.”

  It was true, Jesse had to admit. The thrill of danger had appealed to him even then.

  “He stole his first car when he was thirteen,” Dean went on. “Hot-wired the principal’s Cadillac in the school lot.”

  Yep, Jesse remembered. He’d parked it three miles down the road. His popularity with the wild crowd had soared. He’d wondered at the time if it was his “bad blood” that made him crave the notoriety these pranks earned him.

  “His first car?” said Elissa, looking dearly dismayed.

  For the first time since it had happened, Jesse felt a stab of regret for the crime.

  “He stole others, too?”

  One, thought Jesse. Just one. Another prank.

  “Oh, yes. Jesse was quite good at hot-wiring cars.”

  Jesse frowned. Dean made it sound as if he’d made a career out of stealing cars, but then, Dean’s worst infraction had been turning in a poetry project late. Jesse must have seemed pretty hard core.

  “He needed more guidance,” pronounced Elissa, handing Dean another sudsy salad howl

  “Guidance? Hah! He needed a lot more than guidance.”

  At Dean’s resentful tone, Jesse narrowed his eyes on his cousin’s face. Something was wrong here. He’d never heard or even imagined Dean talking about him with such hostility.

  Yet, if Dean had been in love with Elissa, which he plainly was now, he couldn’t have liked the fact that Jesse had slept with her. And fathered her child.

  How stupid not to have seen it earlier! He hadn’t realized Dean’s feelings for Elissa until now.

  Why hadn’t Dean staked his claim to her that very first night they’d met? Why hadn’t he at least mentioned how he felt about her before Jesse left the party with her? But Jesse already knew the answer to that. Because he had wanted her so damned badly, even then, and he’d made no bones about that fact A head-on confrontation—especially with Jesse—had never been Dean’s style.

  “He wasn’t only a juvenile delinquent,” said Dean, sneering, “he was a bully and a heartbreaker, even in high school. He terrorized the boys—the good, decent ones—and used the girls for sex... the most vulnerable girls.”

  Poking her tongue against her cheek, Elissa scrubbed a skillet with unnecessary force. She wished she hadn’t encouraged Dean to reminisce. He’d hit her where it hurt the most...in an old but not quite healed wound. Had Jesse pursued her that last night of his leave simply because he’d sensed she was vulnerable?

  A sudden chill crept into the kitchen—an odd, unnatural cold. She glanced around, searching the shadows. She saw no trace of Jesse. Unnerved by the idea of him listening to their conversation—and by the hurtful conversation itself—she murmured, “It’s not uncommon for high school boys to date a lot of girls.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I think I’ve heard enough about Jesse.”

  Silenced by her curt interruption, Dean gaped at her.

  From beside her, Jesse’s deep voice rushed against her ear, “Thanks for the defense, counselor. Took you long enough to shut him up.”

  Elissa dropped her dishcloth and sloshed water over the sink basin. Grasping the counter to steady herself, she turned to find no one beside her. Or rather, no one visible.

  She glanced back to Dean and realized he hadn’t heard Jesse. Dean stood watching her through his wire-rimmed glasses with concerned bewilderment. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Elissa. I never meant to.” In a low murmur he added, “Perhaps it’s best for you that Jesse’s gone.”

  She wanted to shout that it wasn’t. She wished desperately that Jesse were alive and permanently visible.

  “Aren’t you going to tell him I’m here?” asked the wry, disembodied voice of the man who was making her crazy.

  “No!”

  Dean broke off in the middle of a statement about his desire to see her with the roses back in her cheeks. “Pardon me?” he said, blinking.

  “Nothing,” she muttered. “I just...chipped a nail.”

  “Tell him to go,” Jesse directed. “This is my house, and I don’t want him here.”

  Elissa bit her tongue, afraid that she might be goaded into responding again. How would Dean react? He certainly wouldn’t believe Jesse was here. He’d think she’d gone crazy. Unless, of course, Jesse started moving things around the room or slamming doors.

  Anxiety hummed through her as she envisioned it. Knowing Dean, he’
d call whatever authorities he felt should be notified. The so-called experts would then come to study Jesse. Some might try to exorcise him. The media would sensationalize him. Who knows what else would come of it?

  One thing was certain—she would no longer have the opportunity of staying alone with him. He’d belong to the curious. She would lose him.

  “Excuse me, Dean, I’d better go check on Cody.” She dried her hands, hurried from the kitchen and raced up the stairs.

  She ducked into her bedroom, closed the door and turned to find Jesse standing there, solidly visible in a pair of close-fitting jeans and a dark sweater, his arms crossed and his smoke gray eyes impatient.

  “You have to stop disappearing and appearing like that,” she railed. “It’s driving me crazy! How can I talk to Dean when you’re standing a few feet away from him, invisible?”

  “I agree, it poses a problem. Send him away.”

  “If I asked him to leave now, he’d know something was wrong and then he’d refuse to leave. What would it hurt, letting him stay one night? After all, he is your cousin.”

  “I don’t care if he’s my long-lost twin.” His gaze arrested hers with all the urgency he felt building inside him. Gruffly, he whispered, “I want to have you alone.”

  Warm color touched her cheeks. Her hand fluttered to the base of her neck, where he swore he could see her heartbeat. “But I can’t send Dean away tonight.” Despite her words, her voice had deepened to a honeyed richness.

  Jesse loved the fact that he could affect her so. But on the heels of that gratifying thought came a tormenting one: could Dean?

  “His feelings would be hurt if I asked him to leave.” Her eyes were the luminous color of candlelit burgundy. “Besides, he’s worried about me. It would be better to show him that Cody and I are perfectly all right here by ourselves so he’ll go home satisfied.”

  “Judging by those roses, I think it’ll take a little more than peace of mind to ‘satisfy’ him.”

  She stared blankly at him for a moment, then slowly lowered her jaw. “Are you insinuating he brought me those roses just to—to—” She spluttered into speechlessness, then burst out, “How dare you cheapen his kindness that way! Just because you can’t think past your zipper doesn’t mean Dean can’t.”