In the months since moving here, Maggie had been pleasantly surprised to learn that she liked being a home health aide. It was a step down from registered nursing, in both money and prestige, but her stress level had decreased considerably. There was something peaceful involved with taking care of the elderly, in being trusted to come into their homes, into their lives, and possibly become someone special to them, someone they looked forward to seeing and interacting with everyday. The agency warned aides not to become personally involved with the patients. Maggie didn’t understand how that was even possible. They were human beings, not nameless subjects of the state, as the Board seemed to think them.
Evelyn’s toast popped. Maggie buttered it, set it on a tray, and carried it into the living room where she carefully placed it on Evelyn’s lap. “Thank you, dear.” She patted the empty spot on the sofa. “Sit down.”
Maggie sat. She held her tea in both hands and looked around the tiny living room, at the photos of Evelyn’s family, her late husband, her children who rarely visited because they were busy with lives of their own.
Maggie wondered if she would ever have photos like these sitting in her living room. She doubted it. A person would have to first set down roots if they ever hoped to have a family. She doubted if she’d ever remain in one place long enough.
She would have to talk to Nathan. Not for his sake, but for Sarah’s. For some reason, it was important to Sarah that Nathan be put at rest. Maggie didn’t understand Sarah’s and Nathan’s relationship. There was a bond between them. She’d sensed it the moment they came into her apartment. In all the times she’d spoken with the entities that came to her, none had ever been tied to a human. Nathan didn’t seem to be as selfish as most entities were. Most of them refused to leave when she told them to. They never listened, only demanded, and they were usually much more angry than Nathan seemed.
“You have something troubling you.” Evelyn looked at her. Her glasses were crooked again.
Maggie set her tea down and straightened Evelyn’s glasses. She sighed. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“You should rest more.”
“You’re right.” With another sigh, she stood. She’d only taken a few sips of her tea, but she had to get going if she was going to make the Board meeting. “But unfortunately…no rest for the wicked. I’d love a long nap, but—“ Maggie sniffed the air. She smelled smoke.
“What’s wrong, dear?”
Maggie went to the kitchen. She checked the toaster and oven knobs. Everything was fine. She went back to the living room. “I thought I smelled something burning.”
“Have you quit smoking yet, dear?”
“Not yet.” Maggie ran to the basement, checked the dryer.
She was halfway up the stairs when the smoke detector went off. She ran down the hall, grabbed a broom from the closet and fanned it under the detector until it silenced. She checked the rest of the house but saw no sign of fire.
She went back to the living room. Evelyn was standing without any support. “Evelyn, use your walker when you stand, I told you—“
There was something crazed behind Evelyn’s magnified glasses. Hazel eyes hardened, burned with an intensity that made Maggie's nerves stand on end.
Maggie gripped Evelyn’s shoulders. If Evelyn was having a stroke, she had to get her back to the sofa.
“Evelyn, come with me. You’re going to be all right.”
Evelyn wouldn’t budge. Using all her strength, Maggie couldn’t make her move. It was as if she’d suddenly turned to Turner.
Maggie checked Evelyn’s vitals. Her skin temperature was normal, as was her pulse rate. There were no outer signs of stroke, no pupil dilation, no paralysis.
Evelyn grabbed Maggie's shoulders so quickly that Maggie didn’t have time to back away. The old woman’s grip was rock solid.
“Evelyn, you’re hurting me.”
The old woman’s lips curled over her dentures. The smell of smoke was so strong it nearly choked her. Maggie felt the color drain from her face.
“Evelyn?”
“Stay the hell away from McGraw, or I’ll make you wish you were never born.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sarah waited a week before going to see Nathan. She’d driven by French Mountain countless times since learning his whereabouts. Part of her had thought Nathan would have come to her by now. Clearly, he was angry with her. Or worse, maybe he’d left Earth altogether.
The fact that Nathan might actually be gone had become a very real possibility to her. Maybe he’d found whatever he was put on Earth for. That would be in his best interest, she knew, but she didn’t want him gone. Nathan was just one more thing in her life left undone. She had too many regrets. One more wouldn’t make much difference in the grand scheme of things, but having one more regret suddenly seemed like one too many.
From her store, the walk to French Mountain was nearly three miles. She had never climbed a mountain before. She’d learned from her customers that French Mountain was an amateur climb. Locals said there were numerous horseback riding trails leading up it, so it couldn’t be too bad. Plus she’d read two climbing books which were in her store. She’d also purchased hiking boots, as well as a pair of pants that the sales clerk had insisted she needed on her first climb. Now, as she walked the narrow foot trail that led to the mountain, they made annoying swishing sounds.
Minutes passed as she walked. The trail was gradually inclining, but it wasn’t impossible. She was surprised that she hadn’t passed a single person on the trail. She wondered if that was why Nathan wanted to live here, because it was uninhabited.
She stopped to drink from her water bottle. The forest had grown thicker and was now deathly still. She wondered if there were bear here. She’d never spent much time outdoors. Growing up in the city, she’d once ran away from home and had gotten lost downtown. She’d been terrified, but she’d never been completely alone. As an adult, she’d suffered times where she’d felt utterly alone, especially after her miscarriage and her divorce.
Now she was totally alone.
She wondered if she’d get lost out here. She really had no idea where she was going. Locals told her this trail led to the top of the mountain, but that was no guarantee she’d find Nathan along the way.
Her breath quickened. She took another gulp of water, felt her pockets and realized she’d left her anxiety medication home. If she had a panic attack out here-
A twig snapped behind her. Sarah whirled around to see a squirrel scamper off.
The forest was silent.
“Nathan?” She squared her shoulders. “Nathan McGraw, I know you’re up here somewhere. I know because Stan told me, and…and he never lies.”
She looked around. Nothing.
“If you’re up here, you will answer me. I demand it!”
Fear ate apart the reserve she tried to build. Nathan had gone away, and she’d never gotten the chance to make things right between them. It was just one more regret. And Nathan was a regret she’d never forget.
* * *
Nathan pounded the final shingle onto the roof of his cabin. With his mind, he had created a machine which would make shingles. It was an exact replica of a picture of one he’d seen in a book in Sarah’s store. He didn’t much care that his creations were cheating. At least they’d been things he had conjured on his own instead of taking them from Cole.
The horses had long since vanished. He didn’t know why. One night, they had simply faded away. It wasn’t something that happened quickly. He had noticed them beginning to fade that afternoon. As the hours passed, they became lighter, and by sundown, they were gone. He prayed they went to a good place, somewhere far away from Cole.
Nathan climbed down the ladder. He stepped back and admired his work. It was a humble cabin. A simple one room with joined fixtures and a mammoth chimney constructed from the rocks he’d brought up from a nearby stream. Three days ago, he’d created a window over his bed. So far it hadn’t disappear
ed like the horses had. He supposed the horses’ disappearance had something to do with them once being alive. If once living things could not stay on Earth long, how was it that he could? Perhaps he’d never really existed at all.
But he had to have existed. He’d once had a family and friends. And Jane.
It was strange how his memory of Jane seemed detached to him now. At one time in his life, he would have sold his soul to be with her. But now…he stopped wondering what had become of her or who, if anyone, she had ever married, and how she had died. Those thoughts had become replaced by Sarah. He wondered how she was faring. If she could one day find a way to stop being scared to live without aid of medicine that she thought she needed just to cope. Her family was still with her. He was glad of that.
He knew her family was there because he’d gone to check on her about a week ago. He hadn’t appeared to Sarah, but had inquired about her through Stan. Nathan had no idea why the man could see him, but he guessed it had something to do with his mentality.
Nathan was about to go inside the cabin when he heard his name.
Sarah.
Only it wasn’t as before. Not far away this time. She couldn’t be here. She had no idea where he was. Unless Stan had told her.
Nathan listened in the direction of her voice. There was anger in it. She thought he’d gone away for good.
Something soft warmed a part of his dead heart. Sarah should have no reason to be angry if he were gone, unless—
Unless she missed him.
He shouldn’t go to her. No good would come of it. If anything, he could harm her. He had no idea what or where Cole Turner was, but Cole could no doubt harm anyone who blocked his path to whatever it was that he sought. And he had a feeling Sarah somehow crossed that path.
Nathan heard Sarah swear at him. Then he heard the sound of her footsteps retreating down the mountain.
Regret settled. He didn’t want her angry with him.
And that was suddenly more important than whatever danger he was about to put her in.
* * *
Sarah hadn’t realized how far she had hiked until she started back down the mountain. She concentrated on her footsteps so as not to slip on the loose rocks. She didn’t see the man in front of her until his feet were directly in her view.
She stared at the large, black soldier’s shoes. One of the buckles were still missing.
She stepped back.
Nathan’s gaze recognized her. It wasn’t a look that someone gave to an acquaintance. It was something softer, something warm that said he was glad to see her. No one had looked at her that way in a very long time.
Her cheeks began to burn.
“Hello.”
His voice was soft, and for a moment, Sarah wondered if he’d said anything at all or if she’d just imagined it.
She met his gaze. It was innocent and intense at the same time. She looked away, ran her eyes down the length of him. He no longer wore his beat-up jacket or vest. His white linen shirt was unbelted, and it fell almost to his hips. Perspiration soaked his hair and collar.
“You’re sweating. I didn’t think ghosts—“ She stopped, realized how ignorant she sounded. “I mean—“
She looked down at his hands, which were gripped in tight fists. She took one of them. It immediately opened and his fingers intertwined with hers.
“You’re still cold, yet you’re sweating. Do you feel cold?”
“Not anymore.”
Sarah looked at him. His gaze no longer held innocence. The tension in the air increased so rapidly she had to tell herself to breathe.
Lord help her, she was attracted to this man. It wasn’t right, but there wasn’t any other explanation. And she had no idea what to do about it.
She didn’t know who took the first step. Suddenly the distance closed between them. He took both her hands, tangled his fingers in hers. She leaned into him. His breath on her forehead, labored, heavy, and she knew she should look away because if she didn’t—
He didn’t give her the chance. His mouth found hers, pulled her into a kiss that was both innocent and wicked at the same time. She felt his hands release hers. They moved to the small of her back, lower until he was pulling her full length against him.
When it was over, she forgot everything she’d planned to say to him.
“Are you angry with me?” He touched his forehead with hers. “For doing this?”
Sarah shook her head. She was a million things, most with no words to put them to, but angry was not one of them.
He stepped back, took her hands again.
“What are you doing up here?”
“Living.” The corners of his eyes turned up, as if what he’d just said occurred humorous to him. “Trying my best to anyway.”
“All alone?”
He cocked an eyebrow, his made Sarah realize how stupid her question was. Of course he was alone. His whole existence would be alone for all eternity.
“You came to see me.” His question was more of a statement. He smiled. It was full of self satisfaction and confidence.
“I want to apologize for what I—“
“Shh…” He pulled her beside him. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Sarah followed him as he led her through the forest in silence. The woods had become so thick she found herself wondering if this side of the mountain had ever been inhabited with human life. She suddenly realized she had been nowhere close to finding Nathan on her own.
He held back a branch for her and laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your breeches.” His gaze ran the length of her. “They make sounds when you walk.”
“It’s the latest fashion.” She pretended to model for him. “Don’t you like them?”
“Not especially.”
“At least I’m not missing my shoe buckle.”
He laughed again. It was rich and full, something she could tell he’d denied himself for far too long.
She walked through the spot he had cleared for her. Her breath caught.
The forest opened to a clearing. The house there looked like something out of a Brothers Grimm fairytale. Made of logs, there were two small windows on each side of the front door. A Turner chimney snaked up the side of the house.
There was no way anyone could build a house without first clearing a path up the mountain, yet there was none. The home just stood here in the middle of the forest as if it had always been. As if it belonged here.
Nathan hopped up onto the front step. The door did not have a handle, but opened with some sort of rope and pulley system. He held the door for her. “Come in.”
The interior was humble, rough, definitely built by a man who planned to live here alone. It was one large room which housed a table and two chairs made from white birch. A bed of white birch was against the far wall. The fireplace was large enough for a person to walk in. It blazed and crackled, sending shadows dancing over their heads.
“It’s what you wanted, what you’d planned to build in Salem…I mean White Creek. You did this all by yourself?”
He smiled, as if pleased by her reaction. “Yes.”
“No magic?”
He shook his head, then glanced at the stained-glass window over the bed. “Only a little.”
The window was like something out of the Sixteen Chapel. It was at least six feet tall. It depicted a forest with birds of all colors and species. Two mythological beasts, griffins she thought they were called, stared out from each side of the glass as if guarding them.
“I thought you wanted to live in White Creek?”
“I did. Once. Now there’s nothing left for me there.”
Sarah didn’t miss the hurt in his voice. Clearly the building of this home was an act of desperation on his part. Nathan wanted security, companionship, belonging, and he knew of no other way to attain it than by creating this home.
She looked around the room. There was nothing personal here. She knew he coul
dn’t read, but she wondered what sorts of things he would have furnished the place with had he been living.
“Do you, did you, have any hobbies or anything…when you were living?”
He looked at her as if he didn’t understand.
“Was there something you liked to do, that you still like to do?”
He seemed to think for a moment. “I like to work. Use my hands. I built quite a few homes in White Creek. I received payment in return.”
“No, I mean besides work.”
“There was always work to do at home. It wasn’t like it is here. You couldn’t buy food. You had to hunt for it or grow it.”
“So you like to hunt.”
“Not especially. I had to do it to eat.” He was quiet for a moment. “I guess I don’t need to eat anymore. I hadn’t thought of food at all. Ma used to say I ate her out of house and home.”
She tried to picture what his mother must have looked like. She must have been someone who found joy in simple things like home and family. Like Nathan did.
“I fished.”
“Fished?”
He nodded. “Did anyone ever take you fishing?”
She shook her head. She went boating more than once, but that was all.
He stepped close.
“Do you like my home?”
The tension between them increased, if in fact that was possible. He was watching her mouth intensely. Studying her.
“It’s nice,” she answered.
He brought his mouth down on hers. His tongue invaded slowly at first, then came hard and fast. Sarah struggled to keep up with him, but it was almost too intense. She clutched his shoulders, brought them around to the span of his back, felt the cords of muscle under his thin shirt. She wondered what it would be like to make love to him. Was it even possible? It must be. For someone to be able to kiss like this, to play with her feelings, make her feel like this. For him not to be capable of—
Ghost Of A Chance Page 12
