The Edge of Eternity

by Amanda Stevens

  Elizabeth immediately leaped to Paul’s defense, just as she had earlier with Frankie. “You don’t know him. You don’t know anything about him or me.”

  The dark eyes burned with anger. “Let him go, Elizabeth. I command it.”

  “How dare you—”

  His long, pale fingers stroked down her face yet again, silencing her. “He can never know you the way I know you. He can’t feel your sorrow the way I feel it.” His cold touch drew a shiver from deep within her. “He can’t give you…what I can give you.”

  He pulled away from her then as he turned his attention to the misty darkness beyond the terrace. Reluctantly Elizabeth followed his gaze. She searched the shadows, saw nothing at first, and then the fog parted.

  A small figured darted into her view, there one moment, gone the next.

  “Damon.” His name slipped through Elizabeth’s cold lips on a whisper. She clutched her hands to her heart. “Damon!” She tried to rush toward the vision, but Roland Latimer was suddenly blocking her way. Elizabeth had the sense that she could go right through him, but she didn’t dare try.

  “Get out of my way!” she cried. “I have to go to my son!”

  “Not yet,” he murmured with a smile. “But soon…”

  And then he faded into nothing but mist.

  ELIZABETH’S EYES FLEW open as she called out her son’s name. “Damon?”

  “Take it easy,” a soft voice soothed her.

  “Oh, God, where is he? Where’s my son?”

  “Elizabeth, can you hear me?” that same voice asked worriedly. “Do you know who I am?”

  A face peered down at her in the darkness, and Elizabeth thought at first it was Roland Latimer. Her heart slammed against her chest as she shrank away from him.

  “It’s okay. Don’t be frightened.”

  She recognized then the gentle voice and probing blue eyes of her therapist. “Dr. Summers?” Had she been dreaming? Had she been lying on the couch in his office this whole time?

  The cold stones beneath her bare back brought her sharply back to reality. She lifted a weak hand to her forehead. “What happened?”

  “You fainted,” he informed her.

  “Fainted?” She tried to sit up, but her head was still spinning. Groaning, she closed her eyes. “I feel sick.”

  “I’m not surprised. Just lie still. You’ll feel better soon.”

  Drawing in a deep, cold breath, Elizabeth stared up at him. His blond hair gleamed golden in the moonlight. He looked very handsome and sophisticated in his tuxedo, and she thought how strange it was to see him like this. Out of his element, so to speak.

  She touched his arm. “Are you real?”

  She could tell the question took him by surprise. His laugh seemed a bit strained. “Yes, quite real. Why do you ask?”

  I’ve been seeing things, she wanted to tell him. A man who can materialize from mist. My dead son…

  She blinked back sudden tears and glanced away. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “I saw you earlier inside and you looked upset. When you rushed out here, I decided to follow you and make sure you were okay. Luckily I managed to catch you before you hit the stone floor.” He lifted her wrist and timed her pulse. “Still rapid,” he murmured. “Perhaps we should get you to a hospital.”

  “Hospital?” she said in alarm. “I don’t think that’s necessary. People pass out all the time. It’s nothing to worry about, is it?”

  “Probably not,” he agreed. “But it wouldn’t hurt to get you checked out just the same, maybe have some blood work done.”

  “But I’m feeling better,” Elizabeth insisted. “I just got a little overheated from dancing.” With an effort she sat up and glanced around. “Was—did you see anyone when you came out here?”

  His expression remained neutral, but his eyes searched her face. “Why do you ask?”

  Elizabeth shivered. “Passing out is embarrassing enough, but I’d hate to think there were witnesses.”

  He seemed to relax at her response. “No need to be embarrassed, but if it makes you feel better, you were quite alone on the terrace.”

  Somehow she’d known he was going to say that. Elizabeth wished his assurance made her feel better, but it didn’t. Just the opposite. She really had imagined Roland Latimer. And Damon.

  What was happening to her? Why was her mind conjuring these images? What did they mean? That she was losing control again?

  “Elizabeth! My God, what happened?” She jumped at the sound of Paul’s voice. He’d come through the French doors, and when he spotted her lying on the terrace, he rushed over and knelt beside her. “What happened?” he asked again.

  “She fainted,” Dr. Summers told him.

  The therapist’s tone changed when he spoke to Paul. The soothing tone was suddenly edged with disapproval, and Elizabeth wondered why. She had the disturbing notion that the two of them were keeping secrets from her. She hadn’t felt so alone in months, and experiencing isolation and alienation from those around her was yet another bad sign.

  Paul turned anxious eyes on Elizabeth. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She forced a lightness to her voice she was far from feeling. “I got a little overheated while we were dancing. It’s nothing to worry about.”

  Paul frowned down at her. “I wish I’d known you were feeling so ill. We could have left earlier.”

  “I didn’t know it myself until I came out for some air. But I’m fine now.” When she tried to stand, both men rushed to help her. When she was on her feet, both pairs of male hands reached to steady her.

  “You must be freezing.” Paul shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Let’s get you back to the cottage.”

  “She’s still a little unsteady on her feet,” Dr. Summers said coolly. “Why don’t I stay with her while you alert someone from the hotel? I’ve seen some golf carts around, I think.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Before Elizabeth could object, Paul swept her up into his arms.

  “You can’t carry me all the way back to the cottage,” she protested.

  “I can and I will. Besides, it’s not that far.” Paul’s arms tightened around her as if he had no intention of ever letting her go.

  It had been a long time since he’d held her that way. Elizabeth had forgotten what it was like to feel so warm and protected in his arms. She wanted to revel in Paul’s nearness, but she almost instantly recoiled from her feelings, as if her sudden desire for her husband was somehow forbidden.

  She hadn’t realized that Dr. Summers had followed them to the cottage until Paul handed him the key. Once he had the door open for them, Paul carried her straight into the bedroom and put her gently on the bed. He took off her shoes and then drew a blanket around her shoulders.

  “You don’t have to treat me like an invalid,” she said with a frown.

  “You fainted,” Paul said. “That worries me.”

  “Well, stop worrying. I’m fine.”

  Dr. Summers walked around to the other side of the bed and lifted her wrist. “Pulse is almost normal.” He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “You don’t seem to be running a temperature.”

  “That’s because I’m not sick,” Elizabeth said impatiently. “And I really don’t like all this hovering.”

  Dr. Summers ignored her complaint. “When was the last time you had something to eat?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t remember. Breakfast, I guess.”

  “You didn’t have lunch?” Paul asked in surprise.

  “I walked back up to the waterfall, remember?”

  He didn’t look happy to be reminded of that. “We should have ordered dinner before we went out, but I thought we’d get something at the dance.”

  “I’m a grown woman. If I get hungry, I’m perfectly capable of ordering room service.”

  “Yes, well, you need to start taking better care of yourself,” Dr. Summers advised her. “I think it would be a
good idea to make an appointment with your physician for a complete checkup when you get back to Seattle. And I’d like you to come in for a session next week.”

  “But I don’t have an appointment until week after next.”

  “Call my office. We’ll work something out.” Glancing across the bed at Paul, he said, “Would you mind if I have a few minutes alone with Elizabeth?”

  Paul looked as if he did mind, but he shrugged and nodded. “Sure.”

  When he stepped out of the room and closed the door, Dr. Summers sat down on the edge of Elizabeth’s bed. “Is there something you’d like to talk about?”

  “What do you mean?” Her stomach was in knots, and she suddenly wanted more than anything to confide everything she’d been experiencing since arriving at Fernhaven. Her conflicting emotions about Paul. The strange visions. Her self-doubts. She badly needed Dr. Summers’ reassurance that she wasn’t losing her grip on reality, but she had to watch herself. Confessions could backfire. If she wasn’t careful, she could find herself back in the psych ward.

  “Earlier you asked about Damon,” Dr. Summers said. “When you came to, you called out his name, as if you expected him to be there.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip. “I wondered when you’d get around to that.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked in that mildly interested but nonjudgmental way he had.

  “There’s really nothing to talk about.”

  His blue eyes probed her face. “Are you sure?”

  “What is it that you want me to say?” she asked in frustration.

  “Whatever it is you want to tell me.”

  The doublespeak could drive a person crazy, Elizabeth thought with no small amount of irony. She turned and watched the mist outside her bedroom window. “Can I ask you a question, for a change?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  When he didn’t answer immediately, she turned back to him. “Well?”

  Still he hesitated. When he finally spoke, Elizabeth had a feeling that he was choosing his words carefully. “I believe in ghosts, but I think they’re manifested from the living rather than from the dead.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Somehow I knew you’d say that. Ghosts are a product of our own imaginations. A symptom of some deep-rooted worry or fear.”

  “That’s what I believe, yes. But what do you believe, Elizabeth?”

  “I’d rather tell you what I know. I know my son is dead. I know he can’t come back to me.”

  “And?”

  Her gaze lifted to his. “And if I told you what I saw tonight, you’d think I’m crazy.”

  “I doubt that.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Why don’t you try me?”

  She shivered in spite of the blanket Paul had covered her with earlier. “What if I told you I saw a ghost tonight?”

  “You mean Damon?”

  She drew a painful breath. “A man. A stranger named Roland Latimer who says he knows me. He says he’s been waiting for me.”

  “Waiting for you?” Dr. Summers’s expression turned pensive.

  Elizabeth nodded. “And the odd thing is, I remember seeing him here last year when Paul and I came up for the ground-breaking ceremony. I saw him staring at me, and it was like…I don’t know…he formed some sort of connection with me. I can’t explain it, but I think he’s been with me ever since I saw him that day.”

  “You mean he’s been following you? Stalking you?” Dr. Summers frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a ghost, Elizabeth.”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “It does. Ever since those strange things started happening in Damon’s room, I’ve been researching the supernatural. I even consulted a medium, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember. And as I also recall, she turned out to be a con artist with a rap sheet a mile long.”

  Elizabeth winced. She’d been taken for a ride by an unscrupulous woman who’d read about Damon’s death in the newspaper and then claimed to have received a message from her son. Thousands of dollars and untold mental anguish later, Elizabeth had learned that the so-called medium was in fact a con artist wanted by the police.

  She glanced at Dr. Summers. “I don’t believe all psychics are phonies.”

  He shrugged. “That’s debatable, I suppose.”

  She hesitated, not sure how much more she wanted to reveal. But it was a little late now to go back. “Some people believe that when a loved one dies, a door is opened. A…gate that connects this world to the hereafter.”

  “I’ve heard that theory.”

  “When I was in a coma after the accident, I think I followed Damon through that gate. I wanted to be with him so badly, but…something kept pulling me back. Dr. Summers…” She moistened suddenly dry lips. “What if when I came back through the gate…someone came with me?”

  “This Roland Latimer, you mean.”

  Elizabeth’s hands were trembling, so she kept them hidden beneath the blanket. “What if he’s the reason I heard music coming from Damon’s room? What if he’s the one who scattered toys and slammed doors…because he wanted me to think it was Damon? He wanted to keep me connected to his world any way that he could.” She was whispering now, almost afraid to say the words aloud. She was terrified to give free rein to the thoughts and fears she’d been struggling with for months, but she couldn’t seem to hold them back. It was as if she’d opened a floodgate.

  And it explained so much. Her disconnect from the real world. Her refusal to accept her son’s death. Her turning away from the one man who might have been able to help her.

  “It’s apparent you’ve given this a lot of thought,” Dr. Summers said noncommittally.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes. “Believe me, I know how all this must sound to you. But what if it’s true? What if this…entity has been using memories of my son to lure me back through that gate? What if it started with the sleeping pills?”

  “You think a ghost caused you to take an overdose of sleeping pills?”

  “I think my desire to be with my son has made me vulnerable to him. And he knows that. He uses it. He’s been waiting all this time for me to come back here, where his hold over me is even stronger….” She trailed off and glanced back out at the mist. “Now do you think I’m crazy?”

  “No, of course not. But I do think you’re under a tremendous amount of stress.” Dr. Summers got up and walked over to the window to stare out. He searched the darkness for so long that Elizabeth had almost started to wonder if he was looking for Roland Latimer.

  When he finally turned, his features were set in such a way that she couldn’t possibly tell what he was thinking. “Have you told Paul about any of this?”

  “No. I wasn’t even going to tell you. I was afraid you’d both want to have me committed again. But I know what I saw, Dr. Summers. I know what I feel.”

  “Let me ask you something, Elizabeth. What happens when you see this…entity, as you call him?”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “If you truly think he’s from beyond, then you must be frightened of him.”

  “I am.”

  “What do you do when you see him then? Do you run away?”

  Her frown deepened. “No, I can’t.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  “I told you, it’s like he has some sort of hold on me.”

  “Do you feel trapped?”

  “Yes, but at the same time I’m…drawn to him.”

  “Would it be fair to say that you experience conflicting emotions where he’s concerned?”

  She hesitated. “Yes, I guess so.”

  He walked back over to the bed and sat down. “How did Paul react when you told him you wanted a divorce?”

  The question took her by surprise. “We’ve already discussed that. He agreed to the divorce if I would come up here with him for the weekend.”

  “It other words, he put conditions on the divorce.”

  “Yes.”
r />   “How did that make you feel?” When she didn’t answer, Dr. Summers lifted a brow. “Did you feel trapped, Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “What about now?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think you do. Paul wants to reconcile, doesn’t he?”

  “He says he does.”

  “And how do you feel about reconciliation? Conflicted? Torn? Pressured? You see where I’m going with this, don’t you?”

  “You think Roland Latimer is a symbol of what is going on in my marriage. A manifestation of my emotional state. My confusion.” Elizabeth hesitated. “I’m not sure I buy that.”

  “Is the alternative so much easier to believe?”

  “That he’s a ghost, you mean?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

  “Which is why I want you to come in for a session next week. We’ll talk about all this at length then, but for now you should probably get some rest.” He stood. “I’ll have my secretary call you and set up an appointment. In the meantime, if you need me for any reason, you know where to find me. And Elizabeth…” He paused at the door. “Try not to worry. We’ll get it all sorted out.”

  Elizabeth wished she could believe that, but whether Roland Latimer was a ghost or a figment of her imagination, there was no way this was going to end well.

  Chapter Eleven

  Throwing back the blanket, Elizabeth got up and tiptoed to the door. She opened it a crack and glanced out. She couldn’t see Paul or Dr. Summers from where she stood, but she could hear them at the front door. They spoke in low tones, and she put her ear to the opening, straining to make out the conversation.

  “…stressful time for her. The last thing she needs is to feel pressured,” Dr. Summers was saying.

  “You gave me that advice once before,” Paul said angrily. “And I made the mistake of listening to you then. I gave Elizabeth the time and space you seemed to think she needed and I nearly lost her. I’m not about to let that happen again.”

  “I understand how you feel, but you have to think of Elizabeth’s well-being. She’s made great progress in the past several months, but she’s still walking an emotional tightrope. If you keep pressuring her, you could push her right over the edge. And this time we might not get her back.”