Witch Angel
Page 37
She stepped away from Zeke, knowing she had to make it clear that her decision was totally her own. There wasn’t one iota of doubt in her mind. She knew exactly what she wanted—who she wanted it with. Didn’t she?
Something niggled her mind, and she paused to consider. She did want to stay with Shain, live her life at Chenaie, even with the lack of modern conveniences, the mentality of the society, the uphill track she faced in order to keep a part of herself whole and free. There would be problems, had been already. The past was supposedly a simpler time, less stressful, yet it had its own turmoil and disparity. Different people, good and bad. Different times, yet were they so different? The past had its own distinctive setting and character, but here, also, lay a future, as in any time, for all its inhabitants. A future that meant as much to its people as to people in any time period.
More importantly, here lay her future: the man she loved, friends she’d made, a world she’d already begun to carve out for herself. A future she could work hard to design, along with the man who made that future a hell of a lot more worthwhile than anything she had ever had in her old world.
The niggle firmed into two certainties. One side told her that her deepest desire—the desire to live into her future with Shain, the man she loved with her entire being—was the right choice. The other side told her that she had to make this choice wholeheartedly, of her own free will, with proper solemnity. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and formed her resolution and request with everything in her.
Raising her voice, she called, “You can close it back up again, Basil. I want to stay here. I want to stay with Shain—live the rest of my life with him and the children we’ll have. And I’m making this choice of my own free will. Did you hear that, Sylvia and Francesca? And if anyone else is listening, you’ll know that my decision is coming from my heart. I want to stay here!”
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the wall of heat waves started shrinking. It dropped in height at first, but the sides also began closing in. Within moments, there was only a shimmering space about the size a human could walk through. That space steadied, as though to give her one last chance.
“Get rid of it, Basil,” Alaynia said with an imperative wave of her hand. “I never want to see it again.”
With a tiny, almost imperceptible pop, the shimmering space disappeared.
Alaynia sighed in satisfaction. “Now, Zeke,” she said as she turned toward him and headed for the wagon. “How about giving me a ride back to Chenaie?”
“Yes, Miss ‘Laynia,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Be glad to do that.”
Holding Stubborn’s reins in one hand, he assisted her into the wagon before he climbed up and joined her. The mule started off willingly enough, and they headed down the road. Alaynia curbed her impatience at their slow progress, afraid if she asked Zeke to urge Stubborn to a faster gait, the animal would plop down and refuse to pull the wagon at all. But her arms ached to hold Shain, though a peacefulness filled her heart. Never again would she have to worry about being whisked through a time warp and being separated from the man she loved.
When they reached the long, curving driveway leading to the manor house, Alaynia leaned forward eagerly. As soon as the house came in sight, she saw Shain pacing back and forth on the front veranda. Her impatience erupted into full-blown craving and, without warning Zeke, she jumped from the slow-moving wagon, crying Shain’s name.
He met her halfway, sweeping her into his arms and hugging her breathless. She willingly denied herself further breath as he kissed her senseless. When he finally raised his head, she sagged happily in his arms.
“You came back,” Shain murmured.
“Did you doubt I would?” Alaynia asked with a slight frown.
“No,” Shain replied, caressing her cheek. “If I had, I’d have ridden out after you and dragged you back, no matter what those darned spirits said. I’d have fought Heaven for you, and Hell if necessary.”
“My masterful husband,” Alaynia said with a smile, laying her head against his chest.
“Sure,” Shain said wryly, his laughter rumbling beneath her ear. “I’m the boss around here, remember? And you know what my most important responsibility is?”
Alaynia drew back to gaze into his face. “What?”
“Making sure my witch angel always knows how much I love her.”
“I love you, Shain,” Alaynia said, his name muffled against his lips as he lowered his head and kissed her again. Without breaking the kiss, he bent and lifted her into his arms. He only took one step toward the veranda, however, before Stubborn’s frenzied bray sounded.
“Now, what the hell?” Shain asked as he turned with her in his grasp.
They watched the mule break free from Zeke’s hold on its bridle and tear back down the driveway, the wagon bouncing along behind him. Zeke plopped his hands on his hips, then shrugged. He started walking toward Alaynia and Shain, then halted, his gaze settling beyond them.
Shain turned again, and Alaynia saw the group on the veranda. Sylvia sat dangling her legs over a railing, with Francesca standing behind her. Basil stood on the top step, his arm around a woman Alaynia hadn’t seen before, though she looked like an older version of Jeannie. Feet crunched on the shell-strewn driveway, and Alaynia glanced over Shain’s shoulder as Zeke stopped behind them. The elderly man’s reverent gaze was tinged with trepidation, and he made sure he stayed behind Shain.
“That’s Missy Laureen,” he whispered reverently.
“It sure is, my old friend,” Basil called. “We just wanted to say goodbye—for now at least. And I wanted to let you know, Shain, that Laureen assured me we’d still keep an eye on things. If you’ve a mind to, Laureen would be a pretty name for our first great-granddaughter.”
“You’re a fine man, my grandson,” Laureen said in a soft voice, which nevertheless carried to them. “Don’t worry any more about rumors as to Chenaie having spirits floating around. Now that your grandfather and I have found each other again, I’ll keep him much too busy to bother you, and the stories will fade out.”
“Thank you, Grandmother,” Shain called.
“And, Alaynia,” Laureen said. “I couldn’t ask for a better wife for my grandson. I wish you all the happiness in the world, my dear—and in the next one, too.”
“Thank you,” Alaynia replied.
“Say,” a different voice said, drawing Alaynia’s attention to the faintly-defined figure stepping out from behind one of the veranda support posts. “Are we going to stand around here chatting all day, or are you all going to take me to see this computer thing?”
“Mister Jake,” Zeke said in a devout voice.
Jake turned and waved at them. “I’ll see you some day down the road, my old friend, Zeke. You two, also, Shain and Alaynia. But right now, I’m sort of itching to get on with this new facet in my life—or, maybe I should say, my afterlife.”
Francesca floated down the steps, growing in height and her wings spreading wide, concealing the figures behind her. A brilliant glow surrounded her, and Alaynia realized they were leaving.
“Goodbye!” she called.
A faint chorus of responses answered her.
“Thank you! Thank you for bringing me here, Basil,” she cried, but without so much as a flicker, the figures were gone. The veranda was peaceful in the early morning sunlight, with no sign the spiritual visitors had been there. For just a brief instant, she felt a wrench of loss, but a deep serenity quickly filled her and she settled against Shain’s chest.
“Zeke,” Shain said, tightening his arms around her. “Do you want to come in and have some breakfast?”
“No, suh, Massa Shain,” Zeke replied. “Ain’t quite ready to walk ‘cross that there porch yet. And I figure that mule’s a waitin’ for me just down the road. Gonna go find him. ‘For I leave, Mister Jake told me to remind Miss ‘Laynia to check that there lottery ticket. And I sure would like it if you and Miss ‘Laynia come over to supper tonight.”
“We’ll do ...” Shain began. Alaynia pinched his arm, and Shain flinched, gazing down at her in question. However, he didn’t need an explanation. “Uh ... would you like to go over to Zeke’s this evening, darling?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.
“Sounds lovely to me, sweetheart,” she replied.
Zeke nodded and trudged back down the driveway while Shain carried Alaynia toward the veranda. After climbing the steps, he avoided the doorway and walked over to the swing in a shadowed corner, where he sat and adjusted her on his lap. She tilted her head back, sure he was going to kiss her, but after a few seconds, she opened her eyes.
He was staring toward the graveyard in the distance, a look of pure bewilderment on his face.
“What is it?” she asked. “You’ve been acting like you were perfectly comfortable with our visitors—your normal, take-charge mode. I do believe I would have fainted and missed all of it, if you hadn’t been there for me.”
“Then I’m sure as hell glad you couldn’t read inside my mind,” Shain growled. “Or feel my stomach trying to clench around those butterflies flying around in it. Do you realize we’ve just got through talking to two angels and a ghost? No, three ghosts.”
“No, darling,” Alaynia explained. “I believe your grandfather was the only ghost. Laureen and Jake were spirits. They’re only called ghosts when they stay on the earthly plane and keep contact with us, instead of ascending to ...”
“Alaynia,” Shain interrupted. “Shut up so I can kiss you.”
“Yes, darling,” Alaynia agreed.
“Ah-ha,” Shain murmured. “I think I’ve finally found a way to get you to do what I ask of you. Just offer to kiss you.”
“Dream on, darling,” Alaynia replied, tracing a finger down his cheek. “Don’t you want a kiss in return? We need to make this a cooperative effort.”
“Cooperative,” Shain said, as though he had only discovered the word. “Similar to compromise, huh?”
“Right. I’ll talk to Zeke this evening and see if he still wants the house built. If so, I fully intend to finish the job. But I’ll wait until we get back from that honeymoon you promised me, if you want.”
“Alaynia.”
“What, Shain?”
“Shut up so I can kiss you and you can kiss me back.”
“Yes, darling.”
Dedication
To Dianna Miller, who
introduced me to Southern Ghosts
Copyright © 2005 by Trana Mae Simmons
Originally published by Five Star (ISBN 978-1594143250)
Electronically published in 2012 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.