A Ghost of an Affair

by Ellen March

  “Well, he’s gone,” Amy said, patting her friend on the shoulder. “Nothing could come of it, Grace. I mean, he was a ghost.”

  “We’d worked past that,” Grace said, “decided to live as a couple.” She closed her eyes. The conversation was too bizarre. When she opened them again, the sight was not a welcome one. Sage was bearing down on her, a dazzling grin on his face. “Oh, shit! Here he comes again.” She stared at the floor as Sage made his regular appearance.

  “Fancy a coffee?” Ploy number thirteen. He’d tried everything else, but his list was endless. No way was he giving up on her.

  “Why not?” she replied with a complete absence of enthusiasm, not noticing the hope and surprise that lit up his face.

  “Great, when?” He was tripping over himself with eagerness, but he didn’t care. It was the first step. “How about lunchtime?”

  “Yeah, see you at twelve.”

  He sauntered away with a spring in his stride, a smug smirk twisting his lips.

  “You’re not real?” said Amy, sure she’d misheard.

  “He’s been on my back ever since Breece was taken.” Even saying his name hurt and she stumbled over it. “Think it’s about time I gave him some home truths.”

  “You’re not going to tell him what really happened?” Amy clutched her throat in a dramatic gesture picked up from watching bad TV.

  “Maybe then he’ll leave me alone. And the beauty of it is he can’t mention a shrink or he knows he’ll be history.”

  At exactly two minutes to twelve, Sage was at the reception desk, anxiously hovering. Oblivious to the looks he was attracting, he kept his focus on Grace.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded and walked alongside him to the restaurant. His idea of coffee was alfresco. Hers was the subsidised staff canteen. She wasn’t on a date, simply telling him why she couldn’t be with him. Not now, not ever.

  “So? How have you been?” He asked a stupid rhetorical question to break the ice.

  “Truthfully?”

  He nodded.

  “Terrible, miserable. I can’t eat, can’t sleep. I wish I could forget just for a short time.” Sucking in a ragged breath of pain, she continued, “A few minutes is all I ask to escape the agony I feel.”

  He reached over and took her hand. “Sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to cause so much distress for you. You know we can carry on from where we left off?”

  She blinked her eyes, and for the first time since Breece had left her, laughed. A high-pitched shriek of a giggle blasted out and reverberated around the room. She shook her head. “Does your arrogance know no bounds, you pathetic waste of space?”

  “Pardon?” He stopped stirring his coffee, unsure if he’d heard right.

  “You think this is because of you?” She slapped her hand to the table. The cups bounced, and the salt spilled over.

  Automatically he picked up a bit and flicked it three times over his shoulder.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

  “Its bad luck, spilling salt.”

  She was momentarily taken aback. “Since when are you superstitious?”

  “I’m not,” he said. “It’s just force of habit. My mother used to do it. You were saying?” he pushed.

  “I’m in love … totally, absolutely, irrevocably in love.”

  Sage tried to temper the grin that tugged at his lips. “I know. Now all we need to do is set the date.”

  She closed her eyes briefly then flashed them open. “Not you, asshole. Where do you get off that this is about you?”

  He stared at her, confused. “It isn’t?”

  “No it isn’t. I’m in love with a gorgeous, sweet, generous man. His name is Breece Denson.”

  “Oh!” He swallowed that piece of information and wondered why he’d never seen him. It had to have been one hell of a whirlwind affair. “Where did you meet?”

  “At a séance.”

  “He was conducting it?”

  “No, he was the ghost that came through.”

  Sage knocked his coffee over and cried out, “Holy shit, are you for real?” Then looked about uncomfortably at the curious glances he was getting from the other patrons.

  “Yep, we’ve fallen in love, decided to spend our lives together. I won’t bore you with the intricacies, but he’s been taken away.” Her eyes instantly filled with tears, which she impatiently wiped away. Was she ever going to get over this? She knew the answer; she also knew what she had to do.

  She couldn’t continue as she was. Two weeks had been more than enough.

  “You can’t expect me to believe that, no way!”

  “Believe what you like, but remember the lover in my shower? The marks on my neck? Doesn’t it all add up now?”

  “No, what it says is that I was right all along. You’re heading for a nervous breakdown.”

  She gave a slow sad shake of her heard. “I’m not. I know where I need to go. And it’s to Breece.” She rose, her coffee untouched. “I just thought you deserved to know the story for when, I mean for when you …. Oh, never mind!” She heaved a huge sigh.

  He frowned. “How can you go to him? He’s dead.”

  “Exactly.” She turned and walked away.

  * * *

  Sage shot a worried glance after her and decided to have a word with Amy. What she had said smacked of suicide, and she seemed unhinged. Yet he couldn’t believe she’d stoop to that.

  It was late afternoon before he managed to get Amy alone. He feared for Grace. He’d kept a continuous watch on her, causing mayhem in the operating theatre, appointments postponed, relatives raging.

  And yet he couldn’t stop this almost obsessive need to ensure her safety. He felt driven, as though by an invisible hand. The need to keep her safe was tantamount to any other emotion. One part of him fought against it, the other was filled with an overwhelming protectiveness. It was as if his mind was being taken over.

  “What is this nonsense about Breece?” He got straight to the point, his unnatural worry making him less subtle than usual.

  Amy glanced up and swallowed. “She told you?”

  “Yes, about some stupid idea that she’s in love with a ghost.”

  “It’s true,” Amy said. “I’ve seen it for myself—well, not him, not in person.” She paused, remembering. “He touched me, so I have no doubts. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced.”

  Sage shook his head and paced in a short circle. “This can’t be happening. For Pete’s sake, they don’t exist.”

  “They do,” said Amy.

  He took in a sharp breath. “Okay, so what if they do? Just surprise me and we’ve got a whole flock of the creatures around here. Then tell me why she’s talking of meeting him? Going to him?”

  Amy’s hand flew to her mouth. “Is that what she said?”

  Sage nodded, disbelief at the whole business written clearly on his face.

  Amy snatched at his hand. “Do you love her?”

  “Why?” Now he was suspicious.

  “Because I believe she intends to commit suicide. If you love her, you’ll watch over her, see to her needs?”

  Sage scratched his head. He’d already been doing just that, yet he couldn’t understand why.

  Amy wouldn’t let go of his hand. “Please, if you truly love her, help her!”

  Sage stared down. “Where is she now?” He sounded resigned.

  “It’s Tuesday. She’ll have left already to go into town. Grace is a creature of habit, shopping on a regular basis.”

  “And?”

  “And maybe it might be a good idea to shadow her. You know, follow? In case she decides to do something she shouldn’t.”

  Sage contemplated her. “What? You mean like shoplift?”

  “No!” Amy wanted to tear out her hair in frustration. “Like kill herself!”

  “Surely she’d do that in the house?” His eyes clouded over. “Candles lit in the bath, the room blanketed in darkness.” He smiled. “I can see it
now. It’s awash in a blaze of light, the scent of jasmine infusing the room. The knife glittering, the blade shining, just before it snakes across her wrist. One sharp slice and her life’s blood is pumping out, turning the water red.”

  “Is there something wrong with you?” Amy stared up at him, interrupting his fantasy. Most people she knew dreamt of winning the lottery, forbidden sex, or endless love. Obviously not Sage; he’d apparently spent too much time in the theatre.

  “Sorry, I got carried away. Now where were we?” He flashed an apologetic grin at her, one that never failed to impress. But for once Amy was unmoved.

  “Saving Grace?” She tapped her fingers on the desk. Unable to deny that the man was an unbelievable prick.

  “Oh right, yes, so whereabouts do you think she’ll be?”

  “I don’t know, but can you get your ass into gear and look for her?” Amy spat a scattering of biscuits out of her mouth at him. He brushed at the spray of chocolate bullets on his scrubs.

  Sage didn’t bother replying; instead he headed for his car and slid it into gear, in search of Grace.

  He parked and glanced around. The traffic at this time of day was particularly bad. Five o’clock, the start of the afternoon rush hour. Everyone was in a hurry: no stopping no hesitating, it was the commuters’ rush home.

  * * *

  Grace stood on the edge of the pavement. She felt empty, but also scared and giddy with the excitement over the prospect of seeing Breece again. Then she hesitated. What if she missed him? How many dead people floated around in the atmosphere or wherever they lurked?

  Still, she reasoned she would have a head start. The balance would be even.

  At least they would both be dead.

  She’d left a note for Amy in her drawer, promising to visit as a ghost if she could. There was no one else who would miss her. She thought briefly of Sage. But no, he would be more concerned about himself than her premature death. He’d soon find someone else for a Saturday night fuck.

  She sucked in the last of what would be her final breath. Smelled the exhaust fumes, the stale odour of food, and the sweet aroma of burnt cakes. It made for an interesting combination, but not one she wished to taste.

  Her glance flitted up, past the high rise buildings of cold stone whose blinking windows shimmered in the late afternoon sunshine. And past it, up to the blue stratosphere that circled them, a covering shroud of air. One she would shortly be giving up.

  Grace wondered if Breece was looking down on her, but she doubted it. If he was really there, a black cloud would be shading over her. He wouldn’t approve. He’d told her she shouldn’t commit suicide. Yet what she was experiencing was already a living hell.

  For two whole weeks she’d waited, talked to him, but to no avail. Her words were met with nothing but cold, bleak silence.

  She couldn’t stand to live the way things were now. He had shown her how to love and how to fuck and how to feel completely alive for the first time. Which was ironic, considering he was dead. Yet he’d shown her more of life than she’d ever experienced with a mere mortal.

  She wondered where he was and what he was doing. Was he fucking another woman who had called him forth? But no, she knew he wasn’t. He was in as bad a place as she was. She hoped with all her soul that place wasn’t the literal Hell.

  The articulated lorry trundled its way towards her, its huge wheels bearing down on her.

  With her head held high, she stepped out in front of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “No!” Sage sprinted towards her. He felt as if he were flying or being dragged along. He slammed her to the side just as the lorry hit him. He glanced over at Grace.

  She was alive. He’d saved her.

  The groan of metal reverberated around his head along with the screaming screech of brakes. He welcomed the darkness.

  Grace lay sprawled on the pavement. She remembered stepping out into the street and being slammed back. She rose onto her elbows and squinted at the body in the road. Sage lay silent, one leg bent oddly. Blood streamed over his face and pooled on the cold concrete.

  She raised a trembling hand to her mouth. Dear God in heaven! What had she done?

  The lorry driver clambered out of his truck, his mobile stuck to his ear. “Yes, now, at once! Just get an ambulance out here asap.” He dropped it and stared at the man lying unconscious; at least he prayed he was unconscious and not dead. He turned to the woman with the flaming hair, tears dripping down her pale face. She stared at him with black eyes.

  “I didn’t see him till the last moment,” the man said, shaking his head in disbelief. “He came out of the blue.” He knelt before the prone body and with shaking fingers felt for a pulse. “Come on mate, don’t you dare die on me!” He’d been lucky he hadn’t hit him straight on, that he’d somehow turned the truck so it veered away, giving him a glancing blow to the side. Yet he knew that the weight of the lorry he drove was still enough to kill a person.

  The scream of sirens rent the air. Flashing blue lights broke through the traffic, and the ambulance tore alongside.

  Grace was numb as she watched the paramedics tend to Sage. She couldn’t believe he’d been the one to save her. Why now? Why now, probably for the first time in his life, did he have to commit a selfless act?

  “Will he be all right?” she asked the paramedic tending her, checking for damage. Her legs were bruised and scraped from the impact of the pavement when she’d been thrown clear, and her wrist ached where she had landed on it awkwardly.

  The young girl glanced over at Sage. She wore a mask over her face. “The fact he’s still alive is a good sign.” She returned her attention to Grace, checking her wrist. Noting how she winced. “We’ll get that checked out in X-ray.”

  Sage was lifted and carried on a stretcher into the ambulance. The doors remained open.

  “You okay to stand?” The masked girl helped Grace to her feet, and holding her by the elbow steered her into the interior. The doors closed, the siren swirled, and they headed to the hospital at a furious speed.

  The closest hospital was the one both Sage and Grace worked at, and the surgeon tending to Sage was most likely a colleague that played golf with him.

  Grace was ushered into a waiting wheelchair. Despite her protests that she could walk, she felt weak, shaky, and very cold. The shock was wearing off, and the full import of what had happened was stealing over her body, ripping her nerves to shreds.

  It wasn’t until hours later that she was given the all clear. Her wrist wasn’t broken, merely badly sprained, but she had a low pain threshold, so she went to the pharmacy for painkillers. She deliberately ignored the inquiring glances sent her way by people who recognized her from the reception area in the appointments section of the hospital.

  Gripping her stash of pain relieving drugs, she headed to the main desk to inquire after Sage’s whereabouts. No matter that she considered him a twat; she couldn’t leave without being assured he was going to pull through.

  There was no news yet. Grace sat down in the waiting room outside of surgery and flipped through magazines. Eventually she glanced down at her watch then rubbed the back of her neck, which ached from the position she’d been sitting in.

  She guessed that as a surgeon he’d received preferential treatment. But then she tried to tamp down her bitchy thoughts. They fled back to Breece, and she knew that the next time she tried, she’d have to be more careful. She’d arrange to be alone, in a place where no one could interfere. All she was asking was to die. Was that so difficult?

  She sniffed as a tear burned down her cheek. She didn’t bother scrubbing it away, knowing from experience that it would be the first of many. Leaning forward into her hands, she sobbed for Breece, wanting his hands touching her, wanting to see his sexy eyes darken as he came, to hear his cheeky laugh that sent shivers racing through her. Most of all she wanted to feel him, his rock hard arms holding her tight, safe.

  A nurse trod quietly into the small r
oom. She paused and stared down at Grace, who was quietly weeping.

  “Miss McGillis?”

  Startled, Grace glanced up. She hadn’t heard the woman enter. Scrambling to her feet, she cursed the surge of pins and needles that sped through her legs. “Is he going to be okay?” That’s all she wanted to know, and then she could leave with no further guilt and try again. Because she’d made her mind up to find Breece, and if this was the only way, then she was going for it.

  This time she would overdose. Grace checked the supply she had in her bag—but shit, she hated swallowing pills! She debated crushing them. Already she was working on plan B.

  “By some miracle yes, he’s going to be okay. Battered and bruised, with a nasty cut on his head.” She smiled. “Other than that, no broken bones.”

  “So he didn’t need an operation?” She’d been picturing him in theatre.

  “No, but you can imagine what the staff is like around him.” She blushed. “We needed to ensure he’d not suffered any serious head injury. He did have quite a lesion on his forehead, and he was unconscious for some time.”

  “Was?”

  “Yes. He’s in a private room and asking to see you.”

  “Er, what, now? Won’t he need his sleep?”

  “Come on, I’ll show you where he is.” Without waiting for a reply, she walked away, letting Grace trundle behind.

  The door shut quietly behind her. Sage lay wired up with his eyes closed. His dark hair was a stark contrast to the whiteness of the pillow. A bandage was wrapped around his head and a large bruise on his chin. She turned to leave, having concluded that he’d gone back to sleep. Relief bled over her that she didn’t have to listen to one of his lectures. He would tell her how fortunate she was that he’d saved her, that she was indebted to him. She almost groaned aloud, because she knew damn well what a sanctimonious twat he could be.

  “Grace, come here.”

  Shit. “I can come back tomorrow. I can see you’re tired.” She was determined to escape.