Eternal (17 page)

Love swirled around us, simultaneously palpable and elusive as I melted against him, parting my lips to admit his sweet tongue that delved to mate and spar with mine.

His hands swept down my back, drawing me closer and closer until every inch of his ghostly body countered mine. I surrendered completely. No longer timid, I encircled his neck with my arms and when I did, he moaned into my mouth.

Emotions and physical sensations I’d never experienced combined and unfurled downward inside me until I clung to him. I burrowed my fingers into the thick black hair at his nape and held his head to mine, deepening our already impossibly deep kiss.

I couldn’t get enough of him. I couldn’t be close enough to him. My entire being flooded with the need to meld with his spirit, to draw his very soul within my body and know him from the inside out.

Not yet…

The words he’d uttered when we’d touched hands that first time lingered in my thoughts. I understood what he meant now. I wanted it and a plea hovered on my lips but when an unchecked tear rolled down my face, his kiss turned inexorably tender. My previous thoughts fled as his cool palms cupped my cheeks, tilting my face upward so he could tease my bottom lip between his. Completely at his mercy, I held him as his kisses moved over my cheeks, my scar, kissing away the trails of my tears, kissing the dampness from my closed eyelids, my forehead, the tip of my nose. He grazed my mouth once more and I tasted my own salty teardrops.

My lashes fluttered open as he withdrew far enough to look into my eyes. “Maybe I went to heaven after all,” he murmured. A dimple deepened at the corner of his mouth.

I felt faint. Gloriously lightheaded. I’d never been kissed like that. Not ever. I arched against him, wanting more.

He obliged me, crushing me into the safe haven of his chest as his lips plied mine once more. I could scarcely believe I was doing this—kissing a ghost. Love for him made my heart swell until I thought my chest would burst.

This time, when he dragged his mouth from mine, he snuggled me into his arms and we sank to the floor together. He leaned against a nearby trunk, pulled me back against his chest and he rested his chin on the top of my head.

His arms enveloped me and I rested my hands over his. My gaze dropped to where his fingers entwined with mine and I stared at the marked difference between us.

One alive.

One a spirit.

My hands were dense. Solid. My pink fingernail polish flaked, bluish veins ran underneath the surface of my skin, a tiny scar from where I’d suffered a burn taking something out of the oven marred the back of one of my fingers. In contrast, Jeremiah’s hands appeared faded in comparison, the details less obvious. Peering intently, I could almost see through them. Nothing about him denied the fact that he was a spirit. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I was safe in his arms.

Safe.

Tangling my legs with his, I drew in a deep breath and then let it out along with all the tension in my body.

“What do you feel when I touch you?” he asked softly.

My answer was quick. “Everything.”

He hugged me tighter against him. “Physically. What do you feel?”

His hand twisted so that my palm lay in his. I moved my flesh and blood hand over his ghostly one, sensing the tingling energy, the strange solidity that felt like nothing else I had ever touched. “I can’t explain it.” I stared until our hands blurred into one slowly moving entity. “It feels like water but more solid. It feels like…lightning.”

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Yes, it does.” His hand closed around mine and squeezed. “And when I kissed you? What did you feel?”

My heart swelled. “Physically?” I asked tentatively.

“Yes.”

“I felt…pressure.”

“Did it feel like when that other fellow kissed you?” he asked pointedly.

“Not at all.” My lips pulled into a smile. “No. I felt your kiss all the way down to my toes.” I twisted in his arms. Courage surged hard through my body. “In fact…” With that, I leaned into him and found his mouth again.

Just as before, his fingers threaded into my hair and he held my head as his lips worked their magic with mine.

“Do you feel that?” His lips moved against mine.

I moaned a response as his tongue pushed through my lips, teasing me to counter. One of my hands found his chest as I slid between his legs and turned more fully into him. I had easily stopped myself from going too far before because I’d never been as attracted to anyone the way I was to Jeremiah. But this was different. My body had a mind of its own and I ached to know him in every way possible.

My palm ventured down his chest to his taut stomach. He grew rigid and caught my hand in his as he abruptly ended our kiss.

“No,” he said firmly.

“Why not?” I asked. Heady desire still thrummed through me despite his rejection. I moved toward him again but ghostly hands caught my shoulders and held me at bay.

“Jeremiah, why not?” I demanded.

He inhaled sharply. “Because I’m a coward.”

“A coward?” I asked, not comprehending. “Jeremiah, you fought and died in a war. No one could ever think of you as a coward.”

“Wren, you will grow old before my eyes while I stay the same.”

My heart plummeted. Just when everything seemed perfect, he backed away again.

He continued. “And when you…when it’s time for you to…die, you will go to heaven and I will remain here for eternity.”

Frustration welled. “I’ll stay with you,” I said adamantly, struggling against his vise-grip on my shoulders.

“No. I won’t allow it.”

A burst of anger flashed through me. “This is the twenty-first century. Women think for themselves and decide for themselves.”

He stared and I couldn’t tell if he was relenting or patronizing me. Determined, I returned his stare. A certainty like none I’d ever known existed within me—the certainty that what I felt for Jeremiah would only grow stronger as I grew older. “I want to be with you.”

His hard stare faded into a soft smile. “Then you shall.” His uncomfortable gaze drifted down my body and then returned to my eyes. “But not in that way. Not now. Not today.”

Disappointment flooded me.

I drew in a deep breath and then let it out as he pulled me back into his arms.

“Don’t make the mistake of misunderstanding my intentions. I consider myself a gentleman, but that has nothing to do with why I hesitate.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “For me there is only the certainty of this existence. For you, the promise of so much more waits on the horizon. I want you to be sure. To have no regrets.”

“But, I—” I’d summoned the courage to tell him that I was in love him but he interrupted me.

“I want you to be absolutely certain, Wren Darby. Because then, you will be mine forever.”

Warmth infused my entire body at his intimate words. I longed to tell him I already belonged to him forever but instead of opposing him anymore, I closed my eyes and rested against him. The impact of his statement filled me until I thought I would burst from love and joy.

All concerns about Briar and my near panic attack at the hospital fled until nothing remained except Jeremiah’s sparkling energy encompassing me.

Unaware of time, I don’t know how long I dozed and half-sat there, tangled in his arms and legs. He’d shifted and gently stroked my hair. I’d never known such peace before. I nuzzled my face against the soft fabric of his shirt and breathed in the spicy male fragrance of him. In his arms this way, I easily forgot that he was a ghost. Instead, I pretended he was a flesh and blood man who loved me.

Heaviness settled in my limbs as my consciousness drifted in and out.

“Wren!”

With a startled gasp, I suddenly fell back against the crate. My eyelids flew open as footsteps ascended the attic stairs. Rubbing my head, I sat and willed my heartbeat to return to normal. Jeremiah had vanished.

Mom stopped at the top of the steps and stared. “What are you doing up here all alone?”

I cleared my throat. Although I knew she didn’t have the ability to see Jeremiah, I felt as if I’d somehow been caught up to something. My cheeks flamed at the memory of the kiss he and I had shared. I gulped, recalling the sweet intimacy of half-lying in his arms while he held me. “I—” I stammered. “I like to come up here and sit by this window.”

As Mom came closer, I pushed myself up. “I must have fallen asleep.” I fought a yawn but the need for oxygen proved too strong.

Mom dissected me with a gaze. “Wren, I’m worried about you. Maybe this move wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

Panic raced like an electrical current through my body. “No! I love it here, Mom.”

“St. Joseph called and offered David his old job back with a raise.”

Her unexpected words stung like a slap on my face. My stomach lurched. I never wanted to leave Columbia. I never wanted to leave Jeremiah. “But I like it here,” I protested. “I have friends here.”

“You do?”

“Yes!” I argued.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Please don’t ask me to move again,” I begged selfishly. The idea of going back to Atlanta was so foreign to me now, I couldn’t conceive of it.

Mom pulled me into a hug. “Don’t worry, Wren. We won’t leave if you want to stay here. I just thought you’d want to go back to your friends.”

“My friends are here now.” My voice cracked when I spoke. It sounded very convincing.

“All right.” She patted my back between my shoulder blades. She withdrew far enough to look into my eyes and then she tucked a strand of my dark hair behind my ear.

I trembled under her gaze. What would she think if she knew I had kissed a ghost in this very spot?

Thankfully, she lacked my intuition. She gave me that indulgent mom smile I knew so well and then she turned her attention to the host of trunks and crates in the attic. “I wonder what’s in all of these?” she asked curiously. “Have you looked?” She glanced back at me conspiratorially.

I shook my head. “No.”

Mom gave a little laugh. “What do you do up here all alone? Talk to the ghosts?”

My heart skipped a beat. “Ghosts?”

“I’m just kidding,” Mom said. “Really, you’re as bad as Ella.”

“Ella’s seen a ghost here?” I tried to play dumb but I recalled with vivid horror how Ella had accurately described Jeremiah.

She waved her hand in dismissal. “You know Ella. She saw the tooth fairy, too. And described
him
in lurid detail. Pink tutu, wings and all.”

I laughed outright at that. Ella was definitely the type who’d describe the tooth fairy as a male.

Mom hugged her arms as she explored the attic. “It’s chilly up here.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

She peered behind one of the support beams. “Is there a light?”

“I don’t know.” I hoped she wouldn’t find a switch. Somehow, seeing my sanctuary in the garish glare of artificial light did not appeal to me. I wanted it to forever remain a dark, mysterious…ghostly place.

Mom strode across the floor to the trunk Jeremiah and I had leaned against earlier. She raked her finger through the thick layer of dust on the top. “Have you looked in this one?”

“No.” I joined her next to the trunk.

In one swift motion, she reached down and seized the latch. When she lifted the lid, the rusty hinges protested.

Dust motes glimmered in the light filtering through the thick glass of the fanlight. The cedar lined trunk appeared to be packed with old clothing. Folded neatly on top lay a gray, woolen jacket with tarnished brass buttons. I assumed the capital ‘I’ emblazoned on each of them stood for
infantry
.

My heart pounded in my throat as my mom gingerly lifted the jacket by its shoulders. “Would you look at this!” she exclaimed. “This probably belonged to the people who lived here. It looks like something from the Civil War.”

Thankfully, the jacket didn’t capture Mom’s interest for very long. She passed it to me. I ran my hand over the rough, knotty wool and then opened the coat to look inside. It had been lined with a sort of crude, discolored fabric. Faded markings had been etched on the interior pocket. I held it closer to the window so that light fell on the writing.

J. Ransom. 20th Tenn.

All at once, the blood rushed from my head and I braced myself to keep from swooning. This coat had belonged to Jeremiah.

He’d probably been wearing it when…he was struck. Electricity raced up my spine and exploded in my scalp.

I glanced at Mom who bent over the trunk, rifling the contents, before I hugged the jacket close and breathed in the ages old scent of cedar and wool. Whether it was my overactive psychic sense or my imagination, I thought I detected the same woodsy, masculine fragrance that belonged only to Jeremiah.

And then, unable to resist, I slipped the jacket on. The garment dwarfed me but gave me the same sensation of being enfolded in Jeremiah’s arms. The intimacy of wearing something he’d worn seeped straight through my skin and permeated my soul.

Mom peeked back at me and then laughed. “Good idea. That heavy old coat will stave off the chill.”

I couldn’t quell the wide grin that played on my lips. She had no idea.

“Look at all this stuff!” She produced some time-discolored, crocheted doilies, a carefully folded baby’s christening gown and other items that really did not interest me.

Hugging my arms close, I rubbed the sleeves of the coat, wishing Jeremiah watched, hoping he sensed how much in love I was with him at that moment.

Mom reached inside the trunk and gingerly picked up a time-yellowed wedding dress. A row of tiny, satin covered buttons trailed up the lacey front. With the high collar and puffed sleeves, this dress seemed remarkably conservative in contrast to today’s standards and yet it held a timeless beauty.

Would I ever wear such a dress? Maybe someday, I’d marry here and descend the broad staircase, wearing this very dress, clutching a bouquet of red roses while a string quartet played and my family proudly watched.

Something twisted in my heart at the innate knowledge that I’d never have such a wedding.

Averting my gaze, I realized I’d chosen a different path.