Eternal (27 page)

I could never imagine Briar being anything other than a black boot-wearing badass.

“Her family moved into an old farm house on Rockdale Hill on the south side of Mt. Pleasant and that’s when she…
changed
,” Laura added.

I stared, grasping the meaning behind Laura’s long winded story. Realization struck. “The house was haunted,” I said.

Laura shrugged. “I’m just saying that’s when she changed.”

“My dad told me the farm where she lives is where one of those Bugger Gang members lives.”

I nearly spewed tea across the table. “Booger? Like nose boogers?”

Waylon snorted. “You haven’t heard of them?”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not from here. Remember?”

He chuckled. He spelled
Bugger
out loud. “The Buggers were a bunch of deserters during the Civil War who holed up in a cave around Florence.”

“Where’s Florence?” I asked.

“It’s a town about an hour’s drive south of here in Alabama,” Waylon said. “The gang was led by this dude named Tom Clark who bragged that he’d killed sixteen men in his lifetime. One was a little baby he threw up and caught on the point of his knife.”

A violent shudder tore through me.

“The Florence sheriff eventually caught Clark and two others and the townspeople hanged them without a trial. Legend has it, they buried old Tom right smack in the middle of one of the main streets in Florence because he’d bragged that no one would ever run over him.”

“And one of these guys used to live in Briar’s house?” I asked.

“A gang member, but not one of the three who were hanged in Florence,” Waylon said. “This one was named Zeke Jackson. He came back here after Tom was put to death and it wasn’t long before the authorities caught up with him and hanged him from the big hickory tree in Briar’s front yard.”

I drew in a deep breath. “So, if Briar is open to the presence of spirits, then perhaps she had an encounter with this Zeke Jackson.”

Laura nodded.

I suddenly knew the cause of her darkness. An evil spirit. My insides hollowed. Pursing my lips, I thought back to the things I’d read on the Internet. Spirits’ personalities didn’t usually change after death. If Zeke had been a creep in life, then he was a creep in death as well.

“A ghost like that would make anybody hate spirits,” I mused. “Still, she doesn’t know Jeremiah. He’s not like that.” I almost felt sorry for Briar.

Almost.

“I guess the real issue is,” Waylon began, “if Jeremiah wants to…cross over?”

So many times, I felt guilty for wanting Jeremiah to stay with me, for needing him so much. But after the day I helped that woman to cross and especially after my conversation with Jeremiah about our future together, I knew he wanted to stay.

Laura’s eyes rounded. Her knowing gaze echoed our discussion on the bus this morning.

“He told me he wanted to stay here,” I said.

Laura beamed with secret knowledge and for the first time since Briar accosted me in Mr. Daniels’ class, my effervescent mood returned. Worrying about Briar was pointless and silly when I had every reason to look forward to tonight.

Fifteen

My heart thundered against my ribcage with every step I took toward my house. Mom and David were gone. Ella was tucked safely away at a friend’s house.

Nothing prevented Jeremiah and me from spending the next several, glorious hours alone together.

And while he had no idea what I’d planned, I hoped he’d share my happiness about taking our relationship to the next level. After last night, I harbored no doubt his feelings mirrored mine.

Always…

He’d promised me. And tonight, I would make promises to him.

Floating, I sailed past my parked car. I withdrew the house key from my pocket as I climbed the steps onto the front porch. Anticipation threaded through me. My hands trembled as I pushed the key into the lock. With a shoulder nudge, the door opened. At once, the familiar smell of old wood and antiques surrounded me. I inhaled it, knowing this scent would forever remind me of Jeremiah. Of home.

The house seemed eerily quiet without the comforting drone of the television coming from the kitchen and the high-pitched lilt of Ella’s voice.

Mr. Stella, obviously satisfied that I’d safely made it home, stood and stretched from his position on a sage colored antique chair. In his usual cat fashion, he didn’t bother to greet me otherwise and, instead, turned to reposition himself for an extended nap.

I gently closed the door behind me before I climbed the stairs, wondering where Jeremiah would be. In the attic? In my room?

I was certain he had the run of the house but those were the two places I saw him most often.

My stomach knotted as I imagined how I’d ask him to make himself scarce while I got ready for tonight. Everything had to be as perfect as possible. I wanted to remember this night for the rest of my life and beyond.

“Jeremiah!” My voice echoed strangely through the empty house and I realized it was the first time I hadn’t had to whisper when I talked to him.

Even outdoors, I feared Ella would sneak up on me, or David, doing yard work, would overhear me talking to seemingly no one.

When I reached the landing and turned to continue up the stairs, I noticed Jeremiah waiting for me at the top. Hands stuffed casually in his pockets, he stood, resplendent in a hazy sliver of afternoon sun. His easy smile deepened the dimples at the corners of his mouth. My heart swelled with love and I dropped my backpack, sprinting up the rest of the stairs until I was in his embrace.

His lips found mine and I yielded completely, and probably would have tumbled backward down the stairs were it not for his arms around me. As his kiss intensified, desire unfurled in my body, making me want to throw all my careful plans aside. I half-wondered what he’d do if I declared my intentions right now. Would he take his old-fashioned stance or would he hold me and kiss me, right now, right here, on the stairs?

The thought of it made my face flush hot. My knees went weak and I thought I’d faint if he didn’t release me. But if I didn’t stop now, I’d never be able to muster the courage to go through with this. Reluctantly, I ended our kiss. Breathless and blushing, I gazed into his eyes. “I…I have a surprise for you.”

His dimples appeared. “For me?”

I nodded, suddenly shy. I felt as if I stood on the edge of some high place, poised to fall.

A mischievous glint sizzled in his eyes. “What is it?” he asked,

“I…I need to get it ready first,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t lose my resolve. “I need you to go downstairs.”

His forehead furrowed. I truly had taken him by surprise.

“It won’t take long,” I promised, but my mind already raced with all the things I needed to do to make this night perfect.

“I’m being banished?” he asked playfully.

“Yes! And no peeking,” I warned him.

He laughed outright. Little tendrils of excitement spiraled through my stomach at the rich and spontaneous sound. I couldn’t believe I was doing this and yet some part of me couldn’t believe I hadn’t already done it. Tonight I would tell the man I loved I was prepared to pledge myself only to him for the rest of my life.

My stomach somersaulted.

“Hurry,” I encouraged him. “I have a lot to do.”

Mirth danced in his eyes as he tucked his hands back in his pockets and, smiling, he bounded down the stairs like any mortal man.

Shaking uncontrollably, I fled up the attic stairs and threw open the trunk. It had been awhile since Mom and I had found the vintage dress but I felt fairly certain it would fit me. My breath caught at the sight of it folded neatly on top of the other assorted items in the trunk. I lifted it carefully by the shoulders. With its row of fabric covered buttons and lace overlay, the dress was as beautiful as I remembered.

It would make the perfect dress for our commitment ceremony. I dropped the lid to the trunk and rushed down to my room to try the dress on. After kicking off my sneakers, I slipped off my sweater and jeans.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror and realized I had on a pair of polka dotted panties and a well-worn cotton bra. If all went as planned, I wouldn’t want to be wearing everyday undies. Unable to believe the moment had really arrived, I shook as I made a frantic search through my dresser drawers until I found a seldom worn pair of lace panties and one of my newer bras.

As I changed clothes, the reality of what I was doing thrummed through my veins. I racked my brain for one shred of doubt, one ounce of reservation.

I found none.

And even though I’d never been in love like this, intuitively I grasped what I felt for Jeremiah was real and pure.

I inhaled as I stared at the dress lying across the foot of my bed.

My wedding dress.

My wedding day.

No family. No flowers. No guests. No cake. No photographer.

Those things didn’t matter. I loved Jeremiah and I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life and beyond.

Trembling, I unfastened the delicate row of buttons down the front. Breathing in the scent of old fabric and cedar, I stepped into the voluminous skirt with its layers of soft cotton lining. Reverently, I pulled up the lace sleeves. The dress fit me better than I’d expected. Besides, the attached sash would take up the slack in the waist.

My hands trembled as I did up the never-ending row of buttons. What would Jeremiah think when he saw me? Would he find me beautiful or would he think I was being foolish? My heart hammered as I turned to look at my reflection in the mirror.

I stared, shocked. Instead of a carefree, layered-top, jeans-and-sneakers wearing teen, a lady gazed back at me. I realized for the first time in my life, I was seeing my true self. Stepping closer, I ran my palm over my cheek, uncertain the mirror reflected my own face.

“I look…pretty,” I mumbled aloud. I hadn’t thought of myself as pretty since my accident. The sudden insight caused unexpected tears to well in my eyes.

Joy inundated me as, with renewed purpose, I brushed my long, dark hair and put on just enough lip gloss to freshen my face. Part of me couldn’t believe I was actually going through with this. And yet, I couldn’t wait to declare my love and my commitment to Jeremiah.

I slipped on a pair of pale pink ballet flats and checked my reflection once more. “Nice,” I said proudly. Excitement thrummed through me at the thought of presenting myself to Jeremiah.

Impatient for our night to begin, I gathered every candle I could find upstairs and rushed back to the attic to prepare for what I hoped would be the most romantic moment of my life.

After rolling out one of the many antique rugs stored in the attic, I situated and lighted the candles.

This place with its massive fanlight had always been magical to me. Even more so now.

I stepped back and surveyed my creation. Muted light shone through the thick glass of the fanlight, casting long shadows on the faded red and gold Oriental rug. Flickering candle flames created an enchanted glow. It was just as I had imagined and exactly what I wanted.

Although no photographer stood by to mark this moment, I knew it would remain indelibly etched in my memory, just as Jeremiah would remain as I knew him now, eternally young, for the rest of my life.

A chill passed through me but the sensation was only temporary. I’d already accepted the idea that I’d never have children of my own or know the aspects of having a relationship with a physical man. I didn’t need any of that. Jeremiah’s presence would always be enough for me. What he had to offer was just as wonderful in its own way. I could be with him and know him on a level I could never know another mortal person.

A smile crept across my face as I recalled the time he’d levitated me several feet off the floor and then later, when his spirit had come into my body, I’d felt him as if our souls had blended into one.

Without a doubt, he’d
learned
me from that experience as well. He’d felt my emotions, seen my life, knew my deepest, darkest secrets.

And still loved me despite them.

Steeling myself, I swept the attic to check for any changes or last minute details. Everything was perfect. Nothing was missing.

Except Jeremiah.

Fear lurched that my knees would give way as I walked to the top of the attic stairs and called to him. “Jeremiah, I’m ready.” My voice quavered.

An ethereal glow appeared in the open attic doorway and as it moved up the steps, it took shape and form and by the time he reached the top, Jeremiah was fully visible.

His eyes sparkled when he saw me. “You look…beautiful.”

My heart went crazy as terror and joy vied for prominence in my being.

“What are you doing up here?” His gaze only left mine for a second to take in the candles and rug.

I wiped my damp palms on my skirt. “Jeremiah…I…”

Fear consumed me and I wrung my hands. What if he turned me down? What if he thought I was just a silly teenager?

He closed the distance between us. His palm cupped my cheek and his thumb grazed my bottom lip. I detected a sort of knowing in his gray eyes. His smile encouraged me to continue. “Jeremiah, I want you to know…I wanted to take advantage of this time we have to be alone to…to…”

I sounded like a stammering idiot. I wanted to kick myself. Hard. Why couldn’t I utter the poetic words I’d so carefully planned?

His fingers dropped to the satin button at my throat.

I shook uncontrollably.

“This dress suits you,” he drawled as his soft gaze moved over my face.

I bit my bottom lip. Why couldn’t I shake this sudden timidity? I’d been so certain. And then, instead of any of the calm, beautiful words I had imagined reciting, I blurted, “I love you.”

His smile reached his eyes. “I love you, Wren. More than you could ever imagine.”

Courage surged. “I…I want to be your wife. Right here. Right now.”

I beamed, instantly wondering if I’d just made a complete and utter fool of myself in front of the man I loved.

A pained look twisted his features.

Disappointment flooded me. “I’m sorry. I—”