by Medley, Lisa
The witch had tricked him.
If the text was accurate, the battle that had cost him his life had been lost after all. Fury filled him, and he struck out at the bookcase behind him in anger. Sarah jumped up when three books fell from the shelves behind her, and she spilled coffee down her white shirt. Her books slid to the floor from her lap as she set her mug on the small reading table. Reaching inside her collar, she retrieved the ring from beneath her blouse and held it, her eyes wide with wonder.
The ring glowed and an orange light radiated from it.
Tanner wondered if he was the only one who could see it, but Sarah’s reaction made him think she saw it too.
She glanced around, then bent with effort and picked up the fallen books. One by one, she placed them back on the shelf. With trepidation, she sat again and scanned the bookshop once more before resuming her reading. Tanner spent the next few hours alternately plugging into the free energy supply of the bookshop patrons while Sarah read and stopping back by to see what other treasures she’d discovered.
He’d take his fill of history later and at his leisure. He could study the books more thoroughly after the shop closed.
Lost in her own reading, Sarah rarely even looked up until a store employee interrupted her long after dark.
“Sarah?” the employee asked.
“Hey, Samuel. Wait, is it six already?”
“Yeah, Drew said you had some questions about some guy who’s harassing you?”
“Not harassing. Only asking about me. Did someone named Tanner or anyone at all ask about me?”
“No. Drew’s right. We wouldn’t share any information with some random guy, anyway. You’re like our coffee bar little sister. We’d have to kick his ass, not give out your name,” Samuel said, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets.
“No ass kicking necessary. Good to know though.” Sarah smiled. “Hey, do you mind if I take a few of these upstairs with me for a couple of days?”
“Civil War nonfiction? Not your usual. Got a hankering for history? Fredericksburg has a way of wearing you down like that with all the old buildings and stuff. I’ve read a few of these myself.”
“Really? Do you recommend any—especially on Chatham Manor and any battles there?”
“Looks like you found the ones I would have recommended. If you really want to know about Chatham, you need to go out to the national park and spend some time. They have a ton of stuff out there. They’ll even give you a tour of the grounds.”
Sarah blushed again. “No thanks. I’ve seen enough of the grounds. I would like to know more though. Thanks.”
“You bet. If this Tanner guy bothers you or you need anything while we’re here, you bang on the floor. One of us will be up in a jiffy.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
Tanner grew more than a little worried about the sudden number of gentlemen indicating interest in Sarah. Her kindness seemed to draw them like bees to honey. Her naiveté made her absolutely oblivious to their underlying intentions. Little sister, indeed. He didn’t like this Samuel. Not at all. Suddenly, he was not nearly as pleased about these lads’ proximity—all of the coffee shop staff’s proximity—and their daily interactions with her.
He was the one who should be looking out for her.
Dear Lord. Was he jealous?
His emotions were all over the map.
Sarah gathered her collection of books, adding two more to the stack, and set her long empty coffee mug on the small bussing bar. She walked extra slowly out of the shop, surveying the window crowd as she left, perhaps silently willing her secret admirer to manifest.
If she only knew, she already had him under her spell.
Chapter Twelve
Over the next week, Sarah and Tanner exchanged daily letters, and still she hadn’t caught him. She’d tried to stay awake all night Sunday, despite knowing she had work the next day, waiting for his reply to appear under her door, but had lost the battle and fallen to sleep. The coffee and bookshop staff insisted no one had inquired about her, and she believed them, which meant that Tanner had lied for some reason. Maybe he worried his methods would seem too stalkery.
Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. She’d learned a lot about him over the course of the week. He’d been a soldier in the war—which war, he hadn’t specified. Maybe he had PTSD and had trouble interacting with strangers? That might explain his reluctance to meet, but his writing still surprised her. Each letter was more eloquent than the last. Her replies paled in comparison, and she was actually surprised he remained interested, although he assured her he was.
They’d talked about books, Fredericksburg, New York, everything and nothing under the sun. He didn’t watch television or listen to modern music and seemed to have no pop culture knowledge at all, which made her wonder how his spent his days. He also claimed to be retired from the military, a fact which made her even more curious about his age. She continued to press for a meeting at the coffee shop, but Tanner held firm. It was too soon for that, he said. He needed more time.
Meanwhile, nothing from Jason since she’d sent her email.
It was Friday evening, and Ellie would settle for nothing less than a night out, but Sarah had other ideas. Ellie tapped her foot in the doorway of Sarah’s cubicle as Sarah shut down her laptop.
“Come on. Adam is waiting for us at the Ale House, and he has a friend.”
Sarah froze. “What friend?”
“A guy friend. Does it matter? I told him it would be okay. Just a drink. You don’t have to sleep with him. Just, you know, hang out for a while. It’s time you meet some new people.”
“Ellie, it’s only been a week since I broke up with Jason.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of this. It’s just for fun.”
“I don’t want to go.” Sarah swung her laptop case over her shoulder and grabbed her purse. “Besides, I have met someone and you know it.”
“Um, writing letters to one another like junior high is not ‘meeting someone.’ Your secret admirer is more like the invisible man. It’s getting a little ridiculous, actually. You need to date a real boy, not someone hiding behind a bunch of letters.”
Sarah shrugged. “I like this guy.”
“Of course you do. He’s perfect. Writes like Darcy, is as handsome as your imagination can conjure, never says the wrong thing—thanks to the magic of editing—and doesn’t leave the toilet seat up. He’s a literary boyfriend fantasy. You know what they say about things that are too good to be true, right?”
“I’m not going. I’m sorry. Thanks for trying, but no. I’m going to the mall to look for curtains. If you want to come with me, great. If not, I totally understand. Go. Have a date. Or two. I’m not upset. Just not in the mood for whatever this is.”
Ellie pouted, arms crossed and forehead creased. “Well hell. I’m not going without you. I’ll call him on the way. We can take my car to the mall. I’m parked out back.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No. But you have to buy me one of those giant cookies at the mall. If I’m not getting lucky tonight, at least I’m getting chocolate.”
“Done.”
*
A half hour later, Tanner followed Sarah and Ellie through the “mall”—an amazing indoor marketplace with a dizzying array of people and products. The atmosphere was charged with the energy of hundreds of shoppers, and Tanner took full advantage of his opportunity to binge on this astounding and seemingly unlimited resource. With each passing contact, Tanner felt himself grow stronger. So strong, in fact, he marveled he didn’t cast a reflection or take corporeal form.
The hex was clear. True love would break the curse. How would he ever win true love if he couldn’t even manage visibility? It was the cruelest of jokes, and only a matter of time before Sarah tired of his excuses for not meeting her in person. He didn’t blame her. He had to take a bold leap of faith and reach out to her before it was too late.
“These are perfect,” Sarah said, runni
ng her hands along thick burgundy velvet drapes.
“They look like stage curtains,” Ellie said. “They are perfect.”
“But expensive.” Sarah turned the tag so Ellie could see it. “This would take every bit of the bonus I have left for enough panels to do all of the windows.”
“Do it. That was your lucky money. You deserve something nice. Me? I’d spend it on something much less practical than curtains. Like backstage tickets to Kings of Leon. Now that would be awesome.”
Sarah laughed. “It would be awesome, but that would last an hour.” She ran her hand along the soft velvet grain. “These will last a lifetime.”
The crowd had thinned considerably when the women left the mall, laden with several long curtain rods and two bags each, the packages stretched at the seams with the weight of the curtains. Ellie confiscated a rolling metal basket near the exit and placed her burden inside. Sarah followed suit. Ellie pushed, and then rode the basket like a carriage to her vehicle.
Tanner’s first experience in a car earlier had been terrifying. The speed at which the conveyance propelled them along was astounding and nothing short of a miracle. He’d spent much of the trip holding on for dear life, eyes closed and praying. Sarah had indicated that Ellie’s transport was called a mustang, of all things, but occasionally also referred to it as ‘POS,’ so he remained confused.
The name of the vehicle, however, was the least of his concerns. They’d covered a great distance in a very short time. More in control now, he managed to collect his faculties enough to recognize many landmarks on the return trip. Hidden among the phenomenal landscape of this new Fredericksburg, the buildings he’d once known were now renamed after former presidents. George Washington Masonic Museum, Thomas Jefferson Religious Freedom Monument, James Monroe Museum.
Tanner’s senses crackled at the profusion of energy coursing through him from the evening’s venture. He couldn’t wait to get back and get hold of the books Sarah had borrowed, as well as peruse the other offerings downstairs. He hoped for a long night of reading by her side.
Ellie stopped the vehicle in front of Sarah’s home. “You sure you don’t want to go out for a while?”
“I’m positive. I can’t believe I lasted this long. I’m tired. Thanks for going. I’m sorry if I ruined your master plan.”
“Fear not. There will more scheming.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Ellie got out and helped Sarah carry the purchases up the stairs.
Sarah frowned as she pushed her key into her door lock.
“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked.
“I thought there might be a letter.”
“Girl, you’ve got it bad.”
Ellie carried in her haul and laid them across the couch. “How about I come over tomorrow and we can put them up? I still can’t believe they were on sale for half-price. You are seriously, ridiculously lucky these days. I wish I’d have found that damned ring.”
Sarah smiled. “Sure, tomorrow would be great. But not early.”
“No problem there. All right. I’m going to see if Adam’s home and if not, head over to the Ale House for a while.”
Sarah hugged Ellie. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome. Good night.”
Sarah closed the door behind her.
Not a half hour later, Sarah was dressed in her night clothes and under her covers. Much to Tanner’s gratification, she reread his letters. He’d carefully hidden her replies to him. As of now, he’d shared only the vaguest details of his life, minus the last bit, of course. That explanation would require a delicacy he wasn’t sure he was capable of.
When she finally dozed off, his letters by her side, Tanner was pleased beyond measure that he managed to extinguish her bedside light.
Emboldened, he moved the letters—one by one—to the nightstand as well, stacking them in a neat pile. Bitly watched with the calculating eyes of a predator, but didn’t hiss at him this time. Yet another small victory. He’d take them as he found them.
As Sarah’s breathing evened and deepened, he assumed his nightly ritual and penned another letter to her.
Dearest Sarah,
Your letters are the highlight of my every day and have sustained me through these difficult times of late. Adjusting to this new environment has been more trying than I could ever have imagined. There is so much wonder here.
I count you among the new things I am in wonder of. I know you’re anxious for us to meet, and we will very soon. I feel I know you already and cannot wait to walk down Princess Anne Street with your hand in mine. My dearest wish is to court you as is deserving of a fine lady as yourself.
A few details must first fall into place before I can make my appearance. I hope your patience will hold. I’ve been caught in a sort of Purgatory since the war and am only now finding my way back to all that is good and light and beautiful. Much of that is thanks to you.
You awakened me, dear one. You who gave me the first spark of hope in…many years. Hope for a second chance at life. Hope that my true love might actually exist, even after I’d given up all notion of it and resigned myself to the darkness for all eternity.
But now? Now there is you.
Do not despair. Do not lose hope. Give me a bit more time and all will be revealed.
I will not disappoint you.
Ever.
Tanner
He folded the letter and slipped it under her door. Every few minutes, rounds of applause rose from Greysmith’s. The sign had advertised an author reading tonight. Tanner had thought to look in but found himself entranced, memorizing Sarah’s features instead.
It was a miracle she hadn’t yet terminated their correspondence. Her overwhelming trust and faith in him—a stranger in every way—revealed the true character of her soul. She searched for and found the best in people, then worked to hang on to it, as was evident in her long relationship with that scoundrel.
The man was a beast. He hoped she held to her decision and didn’t relent the first time he tested her resolve. A man in the flesh was much more difficult to deny than a man existing only on paper. Even now, filled to what he was sure was his full capacity of life energy, Tanner’s body was no more real than a shadow. Invisible in every sense except to perform parlor tricks, which were sure to frighten Sarah to death without knowing the context.
The questions were how and when to breech the subject of his supernatural state. And then…the metaphysical plane.
He didn’t think he could wait much longer.
Chapter Thirteen
Tanner turned page after page of The Fredericksburg Campaign: Winter War on the Rappahannock in rapt incredulity. It seemed the battle that took his life ended in a disastrous Union defeat. They’d lost dozens of men in the initial assault, and then nearly ten-thousand over the course of the next few days. Chatham Manor was transformed into a hospital for mostly Union, but also many Confederate soldiers. Somehow, much later, the Union had managed to win the war. His battle was one of many battles in and around Fredericksburg, and it would take more than a hundred nights of reading to learn the entire story. A task Tanner hoped to achieve.
Most disturbing of all was the fate of President Lincoln, his most respected and highest regarded leader. Shot down at a theatre.
Dear Lord.
Tanner was sure there was much more to that story than existed in any of the texts of the coffee shop.
The cacophony downstairs came to an abrupt stop and Tanner glanced at the wall clock. Midnight. Finally, Greysmith’s was closing, which meant he’d be free to wander the stacks unhindered. He had questions begging for answers. As he rearranged the pile of books on Sarah’s desk, movement by the door caught his eye. His letter was pulled from the hallway side of the door and the note vanished from his sight. Tanner was up and into the hallway in seconds.
Jason read the letter outside Sarah’s door, his face reddening with anger.
Closing his eyes, Jason hesitated, his jaw
clenched. He rapped on the door three quick knocks and waited. Tanner did not want Sarah to open the door. Surely, she wouldn’t open it for him. She hadn’t wanted to be alone with him in her apartment before they’d parted ways.
Tanner slipped back inside, and Sarah sat up in bed. “Who’s there?”
Jason didn’t answer, only knocked again, three short raps.
Sarah’s forehead crinkled in concern, then Tanner’s letter slid under the doorway with force and skittered across the wood floor. Sarah was up and to the door, slipping back the deadbolt in seconds.
“Wait, Tanner!” She pulled open the door, and Jason was upon her.
*
Sarah’s air huffed out of her lungs as Jason shoved her across the room. Her knees caught the edge of the bed, and she fell back onto to it. Jason kicked the door shut behind him and flipped on the overhead light. He bent to pick up the letter he’d shoved under her door.
“Is this why you broke up with me? You’ve been cheating on me? How. Long?” He jutted the letter forward at her, punctuating each word.
She’d never seen him so angry. And the truly frightening thing was he wasn’t even drunk. His eyes were clear and his speech unslurred. This was pure Jason.
“No. Of course not. I only met him after we broke up.”
“We broke up? I didn’t break up. You sent me a chicken-shit email, but that doesn’t mean we’re broken up. I say when we’re broken up.”
Sarah looked over at her nightstand. Could she use the lamp as a weapon if she needed one?
Following her gaze, Jason noticed the stack of letters sitting there.
Had she stacked them there? She didn’t remember arranging them.
He snatched them up. Bitly peeked out from the corner of the bathroom, then quickly retreated. Sarah’s heart pounded as he read the top letter, then glanced back at the other seven.
“What a bunch of bullshit. This what gets you off now? All this fancy bullshit talk? You want me to read it to you aloud? Would that make you hot?”