Ghost Writer (Raven Maxim Book 1) (59 page)

BOOK: Ghost Writer (Raven Maxim Book 1)

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I know it sounds sick, and you already think ill of me, but I wanted you to feel the pain I’d been feeling…when you’d pull back from me, not share yourself. I couldn’t take it anymore. You always said you were afraid you’d end up just like your father… heartless… and you almost did. I’m not certain what triggered it—it was probably a culmination of things – but I was so upset, I was losing my husband and my teacher all at once. Once you began writing again, I lost even more of you.

I became jealous of your love for writing. You treated her like a lover. Look, I called your writing a ‘her’ because to me, she was. You’d sneak off to do her in the middle of the night after you tucked the kids in bed. You’d get up in the wee hours of the morning to jump her bones at the crack of dawn. When you’d finish, you’d light a cigarette and bask in the smoke. You’d whisper and write things down, little love letters to the bitch so you could recall what you wanted to say to her once you two hooked up again.

You respected her and took her advice. You found her sexy and irresistible and the children you two created, your books, you coveted so much. I hated her. I hated you for loving her, when I felt no love from you towards me, none at all. I wanted my husband back. I wanted my Sloan Kenneth Steele.

Like I said, you opened a whole new world to me. I couldn’t listen to Miles Davis anymore without becoming angry at you for months on end. You had become a part of me, no matter how much I hated you. We’d been together too long to not be so connected. Sloan, I’m not convinced anything would have kept us afloat, but the way it ended, after all was said and done, wasn’t right; it wasn’t respectful, and that’s what I’m apologizing for. You deserved better than that. I can say this now with pride aside, and anger, too. Because that’s what friends do.

That’s what you were to me, Sloan: my best friend. I heard you’re getting remarried. I never thought you’d even consider it… that’s what you told me time and time again. You said women were evil. I laugh at that now because I knew you didn’t mean it. You loved women in general way too much, but you were heartbroken, so you said what felt right at the time. Michelle and Joel have told me about your fiancée. She has a beautiful name by the way… Emerald, how different, yet, I’m certain, fitting. Joel said she’s a dental nurse. Michelle said she refurbishes old furniture and is really good at it, too. It sounds like she has creative leanings, just like yourself. I believe, in retrospect, that’s what you always needed.

I wasn’t creative. My mind is more black and white, business, dollars. This email isn’t really about me though, believe it or not. It’s about you. Sloan, I will always love you, and that means I genuinely want you to be happy. You’ve been a great father; I can never take that away from you, regardless of the goings on between the two of us, or lack thereof. You’re a great grandfather, too. Michelle says you spoil Jacob to death and love spending time with him. You’re an excellent writer. I’ve read every single one of your books, Sloan…and I’m so very proud of you…

One day, I hope we can be friends again. If we ever get to the point where we can speak without arguing, I’d like to take you out on the town.

Drinks on me.

Love,

Katie

Sloan looked at the computer screen until his eyes blurred. Never, in his entire time knowing that woman, had he ever heard her apologize to him. Technically, he
still
hadn’t, but he smiled, and then burst out laughing, because he knew this was the closest he’d ever get to it. He was a tad bit remorseful he hadn’t read the email when he’d first received it; it would have been a nice present to obtain… but of course, he now staunchly believed timing was not his to control, and everything was revealed the way it should be, when it was most needed.

On a sigh, he turned off his MacBook and the jade green lamp, and extinguished his cigarette in the golden ashtray. Taking a final sip from his glass of Staglin Cabernet Sauvignon, he rose to his feet. As he took a few steps towards the door, he could hear a low murmur. Sloan paused and looked about the darkened office, but nothing seemed out of place. He turned to take a few more steps, and then, his blood ran cold. The muted music, the sound seeming to radiate from the deepest parts of the ocean floor, was unmistakable.

He spun around and flipped on the light, catching the wispy, smoky image of Peter Jones removing a dark top hat from his head in slow motion. Strands of black hair tumbled forward before he looked back up into his eyes, a rascally grin on his face. Right beside him was a feminine form, a distinct smile on her face as she cradled a baby in her arms. White rose petals fell all around the three like glistening diamonds from the sky. The apparitions quickly faded, almost within the blink of an eye, but the petals remained right there, on the ground…

Sloan stood still as time halted. ‘Earth Angel’ by the Penguins could be heard ever so faintly in the distance, the source unknown until it, too, was no longer audible. The scent of sweet cigars, though, lingered in the air. Sloan swallowed hard, his fists at his sides as he nervously chewed on his inner jaw. He’d never actually
seen
Peter before… only smelled him, heard him, felt him…

Gathering his composure, Sloan let his mind piece together the smoky puzzle and accepted the strange, surreal event as true…and then, he burst out laughing. A hearty, body-rocking laugh, the kind that emanated straight from his gut after years of anguish, anger, and sorrow. His eyes blurred with tears of mirth and he nodded his head in understanding. He bowed at the waist, as if he’d done a performance on some grand stage, then stood, perfectly erect.

“Thank you for the proper farewell, Peter Jones.

Through the pages of books, yours and mine, may you live and love once again…”