Haunt My Heart

by Medley, Lisa

  The rest seemed to be love stories and the like.

  A confounding number of works on web development? Spinning or weaving perhaps? He saw no evidence of such work around her apartment.

  He longed to pull the books from their place of rest and open their pages, as he’d always enjoyed reading, having consumed the majority of published offerings at Chatham House as the war efforts ramped up. He’d read all of Paine’s work on revolutionary politics and Hawthorne’s fiction—none of which he found represented on these two overflowing shelves. What he did find of common interest were the works of Ms. Jane Austen. Every volume he’d known of sat on her shelf, as well as one tome which was new to him. Perhaps Pride and Prejudice and Zombies was an annotated edition of some sort, which left him with a burning curiosity.

  As Sarah rested, he continued to absorb as much knowledge of her personality and existence as possible, reconnoitering for his upcoming plan of battle.

  A battle for his life.

  Chapter Seven

  The Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams” blared from her phone, awakening Sarah around ten that night as her phone sang from across the room. She tangled in the blanket as she struggled to leap from the chair. Finally free, she scrambled across the slick wood floor, desperate to reach it before it went to voicemail. She was sure it was Jason, calling to apologize.

  It took her a few seconds to gather her wits when Ellie’s voice started mid-conversation instead.

  “I’m sorry. What?” Sarah asked.

  “I said I’m outside your door. I’ve been knocking for ten minutes. I know you’re in there because your neighbor, Adam—cute, cute, Adam—came out to see what the ruckus was and told me. Open up.”

  “Coming.”

  Sarah hung her head and shuffled to the door. Good chance Adam had already spilled the beans about Jason. Guess there was no need to introduce Ellie to him now. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, and rubbed a thumb under both eyes, hoping her mascara hadn’t smeared too much. Then she opened the door.

  Ellie stood statue still. Appraising. “You look like hell.”

  Sarah stepped aside and swept her arm wide, motioning her to come in.

  “Were you in bed?”

  “No. The chair.”

  “Crying yourself to sleep, from the looks of your face.”

  “I guess my good luck ran out.” Sarah offered a weak smile.

  “Uh huh.” Ellie flipped on the overhead lights and cast a glance around the apartment—looking for signs of a disturbance, Sarah was sure. “So, he didn’t get in? Are you hurt?”

  “Of course not. He was just a little drunk. You know how he gets when he’s tipsy. And the fact I hadn’t called him back pissed him off. It’s not that big a deal.”

  “Adam said he attacked you in the hallway and was cursing at you when he came out. Is that true?”

  She didn’t want to answer. It was true. Attack was a bit of an exaggeration, but from Adam’s viewpoint, it could have seemed that way. A cold wave of fear passed through her chest and goose bumps covered her arms. Remembering how he’d had her trapped against the wall, his knee between her legs, brought the experience back into focus. What if he’d gotten her into her apartment?

  She didn’t want to think about it. He was her boyfriend. They’d had sex lots and lots of times in the past five years, and it had never, ever been even remotely scary or upsetting. He was a strong, confident man. Nothing more.

  “Sarah?” Ellie pressed.

  “He was upset. I’m sure he’s fine now.”

  Ellie picked up the ring from the table and examined the broken chain. “How did this happen?”

  “It was an accident.”

  Ellie crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Sarah. Her comfort was more than she could take, and Sarah lost it, snuffling into Ellie’s fleecy jacket. Sarah was thankful the interrogation had ceased. The last thing she wanted was to continue to revisit her evening.

  Wiping her eyes again, she brushed at the mascara smears on Ellie’s jacket. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Ellie smiled.

  “What brought you by?”

  “We hung out at the Ale House a bit past happy hour. I thought I’d stop by to see if you were still watching TV. Thought I’d join you. I brought snacks.” Ellie pulled a greasy bag of chicken tenders from her purse, and Sarah’s stomach growled. She’d missed dinner.

  “I don’t know how good of company I’ll be, but I am hungry. You’re the best, Ellie.”

  “Uh huh. Remember that tomorrow night when I’m recounting all the reasons you need to dump Jason.”

  Sarah cringed.

  “What now?”

  “He’s forgotten about First Friday. He said he’d call later and leave me a message. He has something tomorrow night he wants me to go to, I think.”

  “Girl…”

  “I know. I’m going with you. He can take someone else.”

  “Now that’s the reasonable girl I know and love.” Ellie grabbed the remote, tossed the tenders onto the table and settled onto Sarah’s loveseat. “I’ll find something to cheer you up.”

  *

  Tanner was happy to see Sarah’s aura return to its former pink glow. He’d even managed to recharge a bit from Ellie’s energy as they watched some insipid display on the box hanging on the wall above her mantle. He was captivated and disgusted.

  “If Supernatural doesn’t cheer you up, nothing can. Mmm, Dean,” Ellie said.

  It was like a nightmare come to life through a portal on the wall.

  They watched for more than an hour before Sarah began to doze off again, her head in Ellie’s lap. Her friend stroked her hair, comforting her as Tanner could not and his heart thawed a bit toward the girl and her late-night invasion. Ellie was unconventional for a lady in her speech and behavior, but he admired that she continued to be a strong advocate on Sarah’s behalf. Her friendship pleased him, while tonight’s overlong visit did not. Sarah needed rest if she was to aid him in his plan.

  He was more than relieved when she finally terminated the display and said her goodbyes.

  “See you at work,” Ellie said, leaving.

  “Bright and early.”

  “And hey, free lunch.”

  Sarah smiled and closed the door behind her.

  “Deadbolt.” Ellie prodded from the hallway.

  Sarah slid the deadbolt across the frame.

  A few short minutes later, Sarah undressed and retreated to the bathroom. Tanner attempted to look away and let her maintain her illusion of privacy, but dear Lord. If the beach photograph had been seared into his brain, this new image would sustain him the remainder of his days.

  Her slim body was smooth and well-toned, but with curves in all the right places. He’d only glanced before looking away. Years of gentlemanly training demanded his discretion, but other urges, more primal, had his manhood standing at attention. Of course that would be one of the first human reactions to return.

  That and his desire for food.

  The aroma of the coffee today and the continued onslaught on his olfactory senses from the shop below them were heavenly. Being a wispy apparition—spirit alone—he had no mechanism or corporeal vessel yet to partake of such luxuries. For all intents and purposes, the energy he’d consumed since being released from the ring had restored him completely on a physical and mental level. His handicap was that he remained on the wrong side of the veil and entirely invisible to Sarah or the world at large. The uncertainty of his condition and corporeal existence drove him to near madness. To be so close to his goal and not know how to realize it was…exasperating.

  He paced outside her lavatory door, waiting for her to reappear. He missed the warmth of her aura and felt his own energy waning. It was becoming clear to him, however, he’d have to be careful not to leech more light from her than necessary. In her overly emotional state, he saw that she was depleted. With no inkling how long the process of his resurrection might take, he’d have
to bide his time, despite the gnawing urge in his gut to accelerate things.

  The bathroom door opened and warm steam oozed from the tiny room. Sarah emerged, clothed in a fuzzy button-up, long-sleeved top and drawers, both boasting a leopard print, which would have been considered the height of scandal in his day. Ne’er had he seen even one woman in attire remotely resembling the fashion of his time. In fact, the only aspects of this new existence that remained the same were many of the buildings they’d passed. A small comfort, but it was something to cling to. And cling to it he did.

  Sarah picked up her phone and carried it to bed with her. She pulled the bedding up and around her neck until only her hands and head peeked out of the downy nest. Once again, she examined the display. Frowning, she placed the device on her bedside table, attached a cord to it and rolled over. Moments later, she flung off the covers and sat up in bed. She rose, then crossed the room to retrieve the ring.

  With great gratification, Tanner watched as she returned to bed. After settling once again into her nest, Sarah slipped the ring onto her finger. It was much too large, but she curled her hand into a fist and gripped her pillow tight as she drifted off to sleep. Her pink aura glowed intensely, even through the blankets.

  Tanner reclined beside her. Facing her on the oversized bed, he studied her features as her face relaxed in sleep, her sweet, minty breath drifting past him. Cocooned in her aura, he luxuriated in its warmth for several hours, careful not to take more than she could spare, and drawing away when the color faded.

  He even managed to drift off inadvertently. Having been dormant so long, he feared sleep, worried he would fall back into the dark trance in which he’d been long imprisoned.

  The same dreams haunted his repose. Sylvia’s curse and the day of his death replayed over and over, a relentless reminder of his troubles. Then and now. In retrospect, he saw the pieces of the hex fall into place and wished he’d had the intuition then to believe what she was truly capable of. He’d been skeptical at best and arrogant at worst, never expecting his refusal to elicit such a dramatic response. Why any woman would desire him so fiercely, he had no conception.

  He’d had his share of romantic interludes, but discreetly and only after long-term relationships, never catting about like many of the soldiers. As for love, no one had captivated him while he was in New York, and once he arrived in Fredericksburg, his attention had been demanded by the Major General and the imminent war.

  All of that was behind him now. History, one which he had no inclination to repeat. He reached out to Sarah and traced his finger along her hairline to no effect but his own satisfaction.

  He’d known Sarah Knight for one day. One day, which he’d spent in silent observation, that seemed like a lifetime.

  He owed her everything.

  And needed her more than she could ever know.

  Chapter Eight

  First Friday dawned cold and dreary as ice pellets clinked against Sarah’s windows. The weather didn’t dampen her relief when her alarm went off seconds after she’d already awakened, and she realized she wouldn’t be late for work.

  Nightmares had plagued her dreams. Again. And the same ones as the night before. A dark-haired Union soldier, shot in the chest and dying on the grounds of Chatham. That part had been clear and detailed. Other confusing bits played randomly through the night, but she couldn’t remember the specifics in the light of day.

  It was First Friday, a new day, and all of her coworkers would have lunch on her.

  She flipped back the blankets and made a beeline to the bathroom and the warmth of her little space heater. The gas fireplace flamed valiantly, but it couldn’t keep ahead of the bitter cold, which seeped through her windows. The building was old. Revolutionary old. While much had been retrofitted, electrical, plumbing, and gas lines, an old building was hard to keep warm in the winter and cool in the summer. The character and ambiance drew people to historic architecture, not the climate control.

  Wrapping her fleece robe over her fleece pajamas helped some, but her feet were freezing on the icy floor. One would think the warmth of the coffee shop downstairs would waft up through the wooden slats as easily as the sound of brewing grounds and the aroma of baking pastries. One would be wrong.

  She slid her feet into her knitted, cat-faced house slippers, and pulled a brush through her hair, trying to tame her locks into submission. Bitly stared after her with disdain, refusing to leave the one warm spot on the floor, which was directly in front of the fireplace.

  Twenty minutes later, she was dressed and ready to go. She filled Bitly’s water and food bowls, and then pulled on her coat. After gathering her laptop and purse, she disconnected her phone from the charger. She wrapped a scarf around her neck, then searched in her coat pocket for her gloves and put them on. She poked the ring into her front jeans pocket. First Friday was also casual Friday—Candace’s once-a-month concession to the minions. Best day of the month, as far as she was concerned. She checked her phone before she opened the door. No voicemails.

  Her heart did a little flip flop, unsure whether she wanted a message from Jason or not. He could put her at ease or fill her with anxiety with just a few words. After high school, he’d been kind and attentive, just as excited for her college courses and career opportunities as his own. But as he made more money and gained more respect in his field, his priorities had changed. He used to mention marriage and their future together a lot. But lately, he’d barely talked about anything with her other than his demanding social schedule. She felt more like an adornment than a partner and, despite the rosy outlook she projected to Ellie, she was concerned.

  More so in the past few days than ever before.

  Even with his neglect and growing bossiness, she’d never seriously considered life without him. He was a part of her. The very thought of not having him in her life after all this time made her twitch with anxiety. But after last night? She was beginning to believe mere history wasn’t enough to justify staying with him.

  As she opened the door, something on the floor caught her eye. A long, black velvet box wrapped with a red bow sat in the center of her doorway. She glanced down the hallway. No secret admirers lurked about.

  With effort, she bent to pick it up, stiff and sore from her encounter last night. She pulled the ribbon free and lifted the lid. A platinum chain lay inside with a matching letter J pendant dangling from its center. No note accompanied the gift, but the letter J made it clear who it was from.

  J for Jason.

  Of course, he’d brand her with his initial instead of her own.

  Unexpected anger built inside her as she considered the necklace. The offering felt more like a bribe than an apology.

  It was still only 8:45. How he’d managed to buy a platinum necklace before nine a.m., she had no idea. Perhaps his networking efforts had paid off. She hesitated, then pulled off her gloves and retrieved the ring from her jeans pocket. Allowing the letter pendant to slide from the chain, she dropped it inside the box, and then strung the ring onto the chain instead. She tossed the box and wrapping inside, then clasped the chain behind her neck. Pulling the door closed behind her, she smiled.

  Bitly would have a field day with that ribbon.

  She pounded down the stairs and into Greysmith’s for a café mocha to go. The last vestiges of her nightmares evaporated like the steam of her coffee as she made her way to work. Compulsively, she checked her phone again. No missed calls and no messages.

  The necklace was her apology. He couldn’t even manage to verbalize it. Instead, he’d given her a five-hundred dollar necklace to replace the one he’d broken last night in his childish blowup.

  For the first time, she felt less than forgiving toward him. She did deserve better. At lunch, she’d go to AT&T and set up her own cell account. Oh, she’d keep the chain. It was a gift, after all. And the least he owed her for supporting him emotionally and attending his functions these past five years. She wasn’t ready to call it quits completely
. Change was scary. But she was stronger than the fear. Stronger than change. Getting her own phone was the first step to laying the ground work and disentangling herself from being so needy for his approval.

  It was a start.

  *

  Sarah worked through most of the morning without incident, chasing her fatigue with cup after cup of coffee. She’d lost track of the exact amount, but five cups wouldn’t be an overestimate. A call from the pizza delivery guy broke her from her coding coma around lunchtime, and she gathered Ellie to help carry up the food and drinks.

  “That’s a lot of food. They know there are only twelve of us, right?” Ellie asked.

  “I told them,” the pizza boy said, handing stacks of boxes to each of the girls. “They said to share it around the building if there were leftovers. We like to over deliver.”

  “Are those coupons taped onto the boxes?” Ellie asked as they made their way up the elevator.

  “Papa Paul’s sweepstakes scratchers,” the pizza boy replied. “The franchise is giving away a Ford Fusion. Of course, there are twelve hundred stores in the U.S. so the odds…”

  “I so need that,” Ellie said, tearing off one of the cards, then hesitating. “Here, you scratch them, Sarah. It’s your prize and with the luck you’ve been having? Who knows?”

  Ellie tore the scratcher cards from the remaining boxes.

  They returned, pizza guy in tow, to cheers from the cube farm. Candace even managed to slide out of her office and make an appearance. Sarah ate quickly and deflected much of the admiration and gratitude, but couldn’t deny her heart was full. It felt good to be able to do something for someone else. To be appreciated.

  She placed the untouched scratcher cards in her desk drawer and used the remainder of her lunch hour to complete her AT&T run, still high on the results of her good fortune. Sliding the ring absently across her new chain, she wondered about it. Maybe it was a lucky talisman. And possibly more. Last night, something had happened to Jason’s hand and her door after contact with the ring. She’d felt it warm and spark oddly beneath her own touch. Neither had escaped her notice. Since she’d had no similar experience with the ring anywhere close to that intensity, she guessed it was perhaps some sort of chemical reaction. There was most likely a perfectly logical explanation for it all. She had no idea what it might be.