Charon's Crossing (A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel) (49 page)

"And what of Waring?"

"What of him? He's dead."

"I don't know that. He may come back, and if he does—"

"Are you afraid of him?"

"Aye. Not for myself, but for you."

"I'm more afraid of the emptiness of a life without you."

"Kathryn," Matthew said tightly, "I will not let you do this."

"I am a free and independent woman. I can do anything I want, and what I want is to be with you." Gently, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed his mouth. "I love you, Matthew."

He tried not to close his arms around her, but it was like trying to keep from breathing.

"Kathryn," he whispered in despair.

"Shh," she said, and kissed him again.

After a while, there was no more to say that could not be better said with mouths and hands and hearts.

* * *

Kathryn would not be moved.

"Stubborn woman," Matthew said grimly, and she smiled and said that "stubborn" was simply another word for "determined."

He gave up arguing. There was no point to it. She had an answer for everything, no matter what he asked or how brutally he phrased it. Even when he reminded her that she would age and grow old while he remained young, she only blanched for a second and then she said that if she could love a 184-year-old man, he could love a 60-year-old woman.

"Especially if she takes a week or two off for plastic surgery," she said, and set him first to grimacing with an explanation of what such surgery entailed and then to laughing with an exaggerated mimicry of what the results might be.

But, in his heart, he didn't laugh. He thought, instead, of what it would be like for him to watch her grow old. Not that he would care about the wrinkles she would collect, nor the sags. He knew, with the clear instinct of a man deeply in love, that his Kathryn would be forever beautiful in his eyes.

What he imagined instead was what agony it would be to see the years race away as she gave up her youth, her very life, for him.

She deserved better. He had to find a way to ensure that she got it, that she had a future instead of a present that was forever mired in the past.

But she was beyond convincing.

And then, quite by accident, Olive Potter paid an unannounced visit and showed him the way.

* * *

"Kathryn," Olive said brightly, when Kathryn opened the front door. "How good to see you again."

"Hello, Olive. Won't you come in?"

Olive stepped inside the house, the smile still affixed to her lips. "My, you have accomplished wonders, haven't you? The place is so polished and bright lookin'!"

"You can't really be surprised." Kathryn's smile was pleasant but her tone was cool. "Surely, you've had a full report from Elvira."

"Sorry?"

"Or from Hiram. Or Amos."

"I'm sorry, Kathryn. I don't know what you mean."

Kathryn sighed. "It doesn't matter. Actually, I'm glad you came by. I wanted to speak to you about selling Charon's Crossing."

"Yes? Well, that is why I'm here this mornin', to tell you—"

"I've decided not to sell."

"Kathryn," Matthew said sharply, "don't tell her that."

Kathryn glared past Olive's shoulder to where Matthew stood in the door to the sitting room.

"Mind your business," she said.

Olive's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"

Kathryn smiled at the realtor. "I wasn't talking to you, Olive. Look, I changed my mind about getting rid of the house. I. meant to tell you sooner, but—"

"Dammit, Kathryn!"

"Dammit, Matthew!"

Olive screwed her head around and glanced nervously over her shoulder. "Who are you talkin' to, Kathryn?"

"Olive, I want you to take this place off the market."

"Off the...? But I don't understand."

"Nor do I," Matthew said grimly. "Nor will anyone with half a brain."

"It's my decision to make, not yours."

"Well, of course it is," Olive said, "but why have you changed your mind?"

"What a good question." Matthew smiled coolly and folded his arms. "Go on, try explaining yourself to her. Tell her you've decided to give up your life for a ghost and see what she says."

"I don't have to explain anything!"

"No," Olive said, "of course you don't. It's only that you've taken me by surprise, especially since I've brought the most wonderful news."

"What news?"

"I've found a buyer!" Olive said triumphantly. "An excellent buyer, I must say. This gentleman owns half a dozen exclusive health and beauty spas in the States and he's been thinkin' of expandin' and, well, he thinks Charon's Crossin' will be just perfect!"

"Sorry. You'll have to explain that it's not for sale."

"Oh, but he's made a fine offer." Olive leaned forward, her eyes bright. "Of course, he wants to see it himself but I've shown him photos, told him it needs lots of work—"

"Well, untell him. Charon's Crossing isn't for sale."

"But why?"

"I'm going to live here, that's why." Kathryn swung the front door open.

"Live here?" Olive looked around her in disbelief. "Surely you are jokin'. Short of rebuildin' this place from top to bottom, the only thing Charon's Crossin' is good for is a bonfire for toastin' marshmallows!"

"Good-bye, Olive," Kathryn said firmly.

As soon as she shut the door she turned around, prepared for another verbal battle with Matthew. But he was standing as he had been, with such a strange emptiness in his eyes that her heart dropped.

"Matthew?" she said. "Are you angry with me?"

He blinked, as if she'd called him back from some dark place, and opened his arms to her.

"No, sweetheart," he said, as she went into them, "I'm not angry. How could I be, when I love you with all my heart?"

* * *

He had the plan now, thanks to Olive.

He stood below the cliff, staring out over the ocean, and wondered why it had taken him so long to see it.

If Kathryn would not leave him, he would leave her.

It was as simple, as perfect, as that.

He could not change what he was, nor the restrictions of his existence. That he was doomed to haunt Charon's Crossing forever was irrefutable.

But what if there were no Charon's Crossing for him to haunt?

With its demise would surely come his. He didn't know what would become of him. He might cease to exist. He might return to that terrible blackness in which he had awakened.

It didn't matter. This had to be done.

The thought that he would never again see a sunrise, or hear the cry of a gull on the wind or taste the salt spray of the sea, made him smile with bitter irony.

What did any of that matter?

Only weeks ago, he had told Kathryn what a fool he'd been to sacrifice himself for love, that love was an illusion. Now, he knew he had been wrong.

Love, true love, was no illusion. It was life's greatest gift, as he had finally learned, and he could rejoice that it had been his, if only for a short time.

It wasn't his sacrifice that had been foolish, it was the cause. Cat had been worth nothing. But Kathryn... she was worth the world.

The faulty hot water heater would make it simple. The old man, Hiram, had explained everything. The valve that must not be opened, the evil-smelling gas that would fill the room, the spark or flame that would so easily ignite it. All that remained was to find the right moment, and quickly, before he lost courage. He could face whatever unknown lay ahead for himself but as time went by, would he be strong enough to take the steps that meant he would lose Kathryn at the same instant he liberated her?

Matthew bowed his head to whatever power might still exist in the cold and desolate world that was his.

He had the plan, and the resolve. All he needed now was the opportunity.

"Help me," he whispered.

And that came, too, with the sunset. Kathryn was dressing for dinner and he was out on the terrace, waiting for the charcoal in the grill to reach the right color before putting on their steaks, when he heard a knock at the front door.

He went inside the house just in time to see an envelope come sliding under the door. He bent down, picked it up, and peeped out the window. A boy was racing down the driveway on a strange, two-wheeled vehicle.

Matthew looked casually at the envelope. It was addressed to Kathryn from something called Western Union. He shrugged, started to toss it on the table... and hesitated.

Open it,
a voice inside him seemed to whisper.

He frowned. He had never opened nor read correspondence not addressed to him in his life and this letter was surely not for him.

Open it!

He cast a quick glance up the steps. He could hear the shower running. Quickly, he ripped open the envelope, unfolded the note inside, and read it.

It began with today's date and was from Kathryn's mother. She had had a call from Amos Carter and another from Jason.

"Both of them are worried, and now so am I," the note said.

She was in Miami and would be flying into Hawkins Bay late tonight by charter. Kathryn was to meet her at the airfield promptly at ten.

Matthew read the note again. Above, on the second floor, the sound of the shower stopped.

"Forgive me, Kathryn," he whispered. He crumpled the note and the envelope in his fist, went quickly out to the terrace, tossed both onto the fire and watched them burn.

* * *

"Ah," Kathryn sighed, stretching luxuriously, "that was wonderful."

Matthew smiled. He reached across the table, took her hand and kissed the fingertips. She looked especially lovely to him tonight, in a pale blue halter dress and with her hair tumbling over her shoulders.

"It was nothing, madam," he said. "A candlelit table on the terrace, a bouquet of roses..."

"Pink roses. My very favorite kind."

Matthew grinned. "Excellent news, since those are the only ones that grow at Charon's Crossing."

"The wine was lovely, too."

"A vintage bottle, unearthed from the wine cellar to accompany a pair of steaks grilled to absolute perfection. ''Twas nothing but a modest repast."

Kathryn smiled. "You were teasing me the other day, when you said you didn't know how to cook."

"Every man knows how to char a side of beef."

"Starting with the first caveman. What is it with guys and open fires?"

"Something deep and primitive, perhaps." Matthew's eyes glittered. "Akin to what seems to be our native dexterity with television remotes."

Kathryn laughed. He was right. For a man who'd never seen a television set until a few days ago, Matthew had shown a remarkable and, she suspected, completely male affinity for channel surfing.

"I can't deny that you took to the tube like a veteran."

"Well, the TV is a remarkable invention. But I think, in the final analysis, I prefer the radio."

"Really? Why?"

Matthew smiled and got to his feet. "Stay right where you are and I'll show you." Moments later, soft, romantic music drifted out into the flower-scented night. When he came back to the table, he held out his hand. "Because of that. The music." His smile was bittersweet. "It takes me back to a time when both I, and Charon's Crossing, were real."

"Don't say that! You're as real to me as anyone could ever be."

"Close your eyes," he whispered, slipping his arm around her waist, "and picture this place with candles blazing in every room."

Kathryn laid her head on his shoulder.

"It must have been beautiful."

"Oh, aye, it was. The lights, the music, the food and drink..."

She smiled. "Impressive, hmm?"

"Very." He turned her towards him and smiled in return. "And, though you have not deigned to ask me, madam, I can assure you that I, too, was an impressive sight."

Kathryn laughed softly. "No pink T-shirt and faded Levi's, hmm?"

"Please, m'lady. My buttons and buckles were so highly polished they could have served as signal lamps. I was a wonder to behold."

She smiled but for all his joking words, it was easy to imagine him in his nineteenth-century finery. He would have been the most handsome man at the party, and the most sought after.

"Catherine must have been a wonderful sight, too," she said softly, stroking her palms over his shoulders.

Matthew grimaced. "Do you mean Cat? To tell you the truth, sweetheart, I cannot even remember her face."

"You don't have to say that."

"I say it because it is true." He put his hand under her chin and lifted it gently. "She was a cat with sharp claws and a cold heart. You, sweetheart, are a kitten, sweet and soft and always warm in my arms." He bent his head and brushed his mouth over hers. "I love you, Kathryn. You will always be with me."