Forty-Four Box Set, Books 1-10 (44) (101 page)

I opened the door, the cold air hitting my warm cheeks, trying to hold back the laugh until I couldn’t anymore.

Ty was dressed up, wearing a dark suit and tie, and carrying a bouquet of roses in his arms.

“Hi, Abby,” he said, smiling. He handed me the flowers.

“Thank you,” I said, smelling them.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he said.

My heart raced as I looked up into his eyes, those happy eyes that I had missed so much.

“Nice threads,” I said. “I didn’t know it was you at first. I thought somebody was trying to sell me roses.”

He laughed.

“Well, it only seemed fitting for your Christmas dinner. Sorry again about being late.”

He had called me earlier to let me know he would be working late. With all the time he had missed when he was away in Montana, he couldn’t get out of it.

“You’re just in time,” I said. “Come on, I’ll fix you up a plate before I serve the biscotti.”

He took a deep breath. I could tell he was nervous.

He took my hand and pulled me outside with him. We walked to the edge of the porch.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, watching the snow.

“It is,” I said. “Looks like we got a white Christmas after all.”

He squeezed my hand. His palm strangely moist. He was nervous.

I was good with it. With not being a couple anymore.

I smelled the roses again and stared at the fat snowflakes falling fast in the dark, wondering what he had on his mind.

“Ty, we should—”

“Wait,” he said, pulling me close. “I have something I need to say first, if that’s okay.”

I looked up into his eyes.

“I want you to give me one more chance,” he said. “That’s it. That’s all I want. We both know that I’ve been a fool, or worse, and there’s really no excuse for what I’ve done. I should have been here for you, Abby, through all of this. And through Clyde. I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”

“You were here for me,” I said. “If you hadn’t been, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be dead.”

“Well, I want that to just be the beginning. I want you to know that if you take me back, I’ll always be there for you. Whatever ghosts or spirits that come your way, I’ll be there by your side. I see it now. That it’s all real. I didn’t get it before. I couldn’t. But I understand now. I love you, Abby.”

I looked up into his eyes, shining and dancing and full of light and energy.

I started to say something but before I could, he leaned over and kissed me.

The night shook as his lips pressed on mine, gentle at first and then harder. It was a kiss full of longing and passion, full of stars and glittering snowflakes and love. I closed my eyes and fell away, back into our world that we had found up in the mountains, the one I ached for but was sure had burned away forever in a feverish fire.

We stood there in the snow, breathing each other in as I felt the force of that world rush through me like the rapids of a roaring river, sweeping away and destroying the brick walls and barricades between us and then gently lifting me up with the lightest of touches and delivering me into his arms.

When we finally pulled away, I had trouble catching my breath. But a moment later I was kissing him again, losing myself deeper and deeper in his white, swirling energy.

Lost, lost, lost.

Lost in the blinding blizzard of his love, never to be found.

CHAPTER 57

Ty and Kate helped me in the kitchen and while it didn’t take us until New Year’s to get it cleaned up, it did take a long time. It was after two in the morning when we loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

I was exhausted. After Ty left, I said goodnight to Kate and threw myself in bed.

I soon fell gently, like the snowflakes outside my window, down, down, down into a deep sleep…

***

The smell hit me like a train.

It was intoxicating.

Chocolate chip cookies.

Just out of the oven.

Just like Mom used to make.

It smelled like home, so very long ago.

The happiness of the house filled me with its warmth. I breathed it in as I stood in the kitchen. I walked over to the stove and watched the steam rising off the cookies and reached out to grab one.

But the voices stopped me.

The voices of children, coming from the living room.

My heart pounded as I crept out and saw the giant Christmas tree in the far corner. Green and bright and full of life. Full of color. Colors I could see, blinking and beautiful. Red, green, blue, orange. Purple. A huge glittering gold star on top and a large stuffed Santa underneath. Two red stockings were hanging above the fireplace.

There were two kids sitting under the tree, surrounded by boxes and boxes of opened toys.

I stepped closer, desperate to see their faces. Trying to see Kate’s long ponytails and my dark hair.

Looking for Mom.

But it suddenly struck me that I wasn’t in our house. I was somewhere else. It wasn’t our living room. This one was enormous. I rubbed my head, trying to think of our Christmases of the past, if we had visited any relatives or friends. If we had celebrated somewhere else.

And now I could see that it wasn’t Kate and me sitting on the floor next to the tree.  

“You can play with my fire truck if you want,” the younger boy said in a high voice.

“Maybe later,” the older one said.

I stared at them. I didn’t recognize them, but something was familiar. Maybe they were our cousins. Or maybe childhood friends from the past.

“Okay, boys, the cookies are ready!” a voice yelled from the kitchen. “Do you want milk?”

“Yes, Mrs. Morrison,” the older boy shouted.

The younger one kept playing.

“Hey, Nathaniel, Mrs. Morrison is asking if you want milk.”

My stomach dropped to the floor like an elevator falling fifty stories as I realized what I was watching and who I was seeing.

Suddenly, I felt his breath on my neck. I stood frozen in terror.

“Abigail,” he purred. “So good of you to join me here in my Christmas Past.”

It was the moment I had feared for more than a year now. Since the day he died.

Not a day went by that I didn’t think about seeing his ghost. I had dreaded it. This moment.

And here he was, standing right behind me.

I turned around slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, and found those cat eyes staring at me. Except for being a little pale, he looked exactly the same. His hair, as always, was slicked back into a neat, thin ponytail. I fought hard to hold back my scream.

“Stay away from me,” I said, my voice shaking as I took a step back.

He smiled.

“It was nice seeing you that night,” he said.

I shook my head, not knowing what he was talking about.

“That night. Remember?”

I still didn’t understand.

“It was when you were picking out your Christmas tree with your sister. I hope your Christmas was as nice as the tree you both chose.”

A chill swept through my body.

A plump woman emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray. She put it down next to the two boys and they said thank you at the same time.

“Ben, when can I play with your chemistry set?” the small boy asked, reaching for a cookie.

“In a few minutes,” the older one said. “We can do an experiment together.”

The ghost of Nathaniel chuckled, moving closer.

“I just dropped by because I wanted you to be the first to know.”

I gathered my courage.

“Know what?”

“That I’m back. But don’t worry,” he said, his eyes narrowing, staring at the children. “It’s not you I’m coming for.”

I took a deep breath, and then another as he started walking away.

“Merry Christmas, Abby,” he said, turning. “See you again soon.
Real
soon.”

THE END

Forty-Four Book Seven

by

Jools Sinclair

Copyright © 2013 Jools Sinclair

You Come Too Publishing

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in, or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Grizz

Forty-Four Book Seven

by

Jools Sinclair

PROLOGUE

I wouldn’t have let you die, Abby
, he whispered in the rain.
You had no faith in me then. But I am confident that you will someday.

He stood watching the service from a distance, beneath a large tree up on a hill overlooking the cemetery. The storm was intense. Deep mud puddles were spreading through the grass while streams flooded over pathways that wound through the tombstones. Waterfalls cascaded violently from the rooftop of the mausoleum behind him. A harsh wind blew into the mourners who stood by the open grave, wet and shivering like rodents, listening to the old man rambling on about the Valley of Death and God’s love.

He sighed and picked at his fingernails. It was just an old habit, a reminder of what once was. There was never dirt under his nails now, never lint on his jacket, never a hair out of place. In some ways, really, it was perfect.

He wasn’t cold. He didn’t feel such things anymore. Heat, rain, or snow, none of it touched him. He could move freely about in daylight or darkness without being encumbered by any sort of weather. He was as invisible as Claude Rains on a moonless night, able to float around in the places he used to walk through, able to observe without being seen.

Even she didn’t see him, except in those strange dreams she had. But in her concrete gray world, he discovered that he could slip into the shadows of her life and hide. And he was growing to like it, admiring her from afar, even if she enjoyed a rather monotonous existence.

He was coming to understand that he still loved her, that they had something special. And one day, he would help her realize this.

But not today.

Today he would leave her be, let her feel her sorrow with the rest. He wasn’t a monster. He was a man who appreciated rituals. They had their place. There was grace in saying goodbye properly, even though he had learned that there was really no need.

There was no such thing as death, after all. He felt as alive as ever. 

All those years spent trying to find a cure, this or that serum, to stop something that didn’t even exist. He almost had to laugh. After taking his final breath that day on the bedroom floor when his brother’s bullet ripped through his heart, he curiously found himself hovering near his own body. He was in no pain, no discomfort. He felt lighter and things were dimmer, as if a bulb had burned out, but those were the only differences. He backed up to a corner in the room as the police stormed the house, shocked that no one seemed to notice that he was there.

He waited after the investigators left and long after his body was taken away, not really knowing what else to do. He braced himself, steadying his growing concern about his future. Surely someone had to be coming for him. Or something. But time passed and nothing happened. No white light, no long tunnel, no fire or brimstone, no angels or demons.

No Emma.

He was left all alone.

He wandered around the house before venturing outside, and then roamed up and down the island, watching the distant ferries pass by in the Sound. He had no idea how long he had stayed there. Time wasn’t the same, and it was hard to tell. But he didn’t know where else to go or how to get there.

Until he started following the lights.

One light led him back to the city. Another one brought him to an old opera house where he watched rehearsals for
La Traviata
. Occasionally he fell into a strange, lonely darkness of lost time, but if he found a light on the horizon he was able to pull himself back into the world.