Incorporeal

by Julia Barrett

  Sara felt torn. After resenting ghosts for so many years, I don’t want them to leave. If they leave, that means I must give up all hope of ever seeing Nathan again. I don’t know if I can do that.

  Sara, it’s not like you have a choice. You never had a choice, neither did he, he told you that.

  “Sara?”

  “What?” Her head flew around and she jumped to her feet, thinking the ghost had reappeared. It was Geri.

  “Sara, it’s time to go. You’re soaked to the skin. C’mon, honey. Let’s go.”

  Sara remained quiet, passive, as Geri pulled the raincoat tight around her and led her to the car.

  He really is gone. He’s never coming back, not even as an incorporeal spirit. He won’t show up in my shower. He won’t annoy me in my kitchen. He won’t make love to me in a pool of moonlight. It’s over, Sara, all of it. Life as you knew it is over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sara woke to a ringing phone. Half asleep, she wondered why Dalton or Geri didn’t answer. She rubbed her eyes. Oh yeah, I sent them home six weeks ago. Rolling onto her side, she grabbed for her cell phone, but knocked it off the chest. It skidded beneath the bed and stopped ringing. Screw it. If someone wants to talk to me, they’ll call later.

  Sara closed her eyes and lay back on her pillows. A small, fluttering kick from the baby brought a smile to her face.

  “Oh Nathan, I wish you could feel her. It’s a girl.” She rubbed her fingers against the moving appendage. “How do I know? I just do. I’m going to name her for your mother. I think you’ll like that, but instead of Katherine, I’ll call her Caitlyn. Cait. You okay with that? It’s kind of a more modern version of Katherine.” She waited in silence.

  What? Are you expecting an answer? He never answers.

  “I dreamed about you again last night.” Sara snuggled down into her feather bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin. “It was a good dream. You were here, in bed with me. You held me in your arms and made love to me.” She yawned and stretched, moving languidly, taking her time. “It seemed so real, Nathan. I swear I could smell you, feel you, taste you. You put your hands on my belly and felt the baby kick.” The memory made Sara smile.

  Sara turned onto her side and opened her eyes, studying the morning sunlight as it filtered through the young, tender green leaves outside her window. “Are you at peace, my love? I hope you’re at peace, but I guess the truth is, I’d rather have you here with me. That’s selfish of me, isn’t it? That wouldn’t have been fair to you.”

  I still cry when I think of you, Nathan. But I won’t say those words aloud because I have this irrational feeling you can hear me. I don’t want you to think I’m sad. I’m not sad, at least, not all the time.

  The phone rang again, a muffled sound from under the bed. Annoyed, Sara swung her legs over the side and reached beneath. She managed to snag it on the fourth ring.

  “Hey, Dalton. What’s up?” Sara turned around to sit cross-legged on the bed.

  “Yeah, that’s the plan. I leave tomorrow.

  “No, honey, I’m not changing my mind.

  “The doctor says I’m fine to travel. I may not be in a couple more months, but right now it’s perfectly all right.” Her hand automatically went to her growing baby bump.

  “Yes, I’ll have plenty of room to stretch my legs. The company is sending me first class, remember? I’m making them a lot of money on this deal.

  “You have my itinerary; London first, then I’m heading up to the north of England. After that I’m flying to Spain and then I’ll come home.

  “Because this is something I have to do for my own peace of mind, and you’re not talking me out of it. I need to see where Nathan came from, where he lived, even though I know they’ll be nothing left of him. Besides, I want to check on this de Manua Shipping Company. Who knows? Maybe some of Nathan’s extended family did survive.

  “Yeah, I’m stopping over in New York to pick up the contract.”

  Sara smiled. “I know you and Geri want to be there with me. I’d like that too. I hold Geri entirely responsible for this offer.

  “Hah. You think that’s funny? If I sign this, I’m going to have to produce. No more slacking off.

  “I know. Heather’s a sweetheart. She’s very supportive and she’s been patient with me. I still find it hard to believe Geri handed Heather that big packet out of the blue, and she actually read everything.”

  It’s even harder to believe she liked it.

  “Yeah, okay. See you tonight. Remember, cheese pizza, no green peppers.

  “I’m serious. No green peppers. You know how much I hate ‘em.”

  Sara clicked off and tossed the phone onto the pillow. After a quick stop in the bathroom, she headed downstairs.

  Hey Nathan, I eat a healthy breakfast now. Sorry, no coffee though, makes me sick to my stomach.

  As she sipped a glass of orange juice, Sara opened her computer and pulled up her E-ticket. She sent it to the printer and then scrolled through the research she’d done on Nathan’s family, both his mother’s family and his father’s family, and the address for de Manua Shipping. She sent it all to the printer as well.

  I know you can’t come to me, Nathan. I’m coming to you.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nate bolted upright, his body drenched in sweat. Christ, it happened again. I dreamed about her, the redhead with the long, shapely legs and the velvet soft skin.

  He tossed the blankets aside. Naked, he stomped to the bathroom, feeling chilled as the brisk night air hit him. Nate ran a hand over his naked abdomen, remembering the touch of her body against his. This is getting ridiculous. I’ve dreamed of her every night for nearly two months. It’s getting to the point where I wake up and expect to find her in bed with me, in the flesh.

  He stood in the bathroom, staring down at his erection. How am I supposed to take a piss with this bloody raging hard on? It’ll take ten minutes for the thing to go down, unless I use my fist. He thought about it, but decided against it. That would be a waste. It’s her I want.

  Nate closed his eyes, trying to visualize her better, or at least, bits and pieces of her. His hands clenched as he remembered the feel of her high, round breasts, the pert, rosy nipples dangling above his mouth while he reclined back and thrust up into the hottest, silkiest… Stop it. This is fucking insane. And it’s not going to help you take a piss.

  This dream had been different. She seemed different. Nate struggled to remember why. What was different about her? At last he gave up and wandered back into the bedroom.

  Flipping on a light, he grabbed the report he’d been reading before he’d fallen asleep and propped himself up in bed, trying to focus. In desperation he’d resorted to reading financial reports at night in the hopes he’d be too bored to dream about her. No such luck. It didn’t seem to matter what he read, what he ate, what he drank or what he did. She waited for him the minute he closed his eyes. Not all of her; he never saw her all at once.

  The woman is like some incorporeal temptress, something supernatural. A banshee? Lillith? Nate didn’t believe in the supernatural, but then he’d never had a recurring dream like this one.

  Never. Not even when I was a child. What time is it? Nate glanced at the clock. One a.m. Too late to call Jack?

  Nate reached for the phone and dialed room eight forty-seven.

  “Jack, you still up?

  “Good. I figured.

  “You know that bottle of Scotch you were talking about earlier?

  “Yes? Well bring it over. I could use a drink.”

  Nate threw the covers aside once more and reached for the jeans he’d tossed across the back of a nearby chair. He pulled them up, taking care not to catch any parts with the zipper. His hard on still hadn’t gone away altogether.

  What is with this woman? Is she a gorgon who can turn me to stone? Nate snorted. Well, the mere thought of her turns my dick to stone.

  He heard a soft knock. Jack doesn’t waste any time, but then he wo
n’t when it comes to drinking a twenty year old Scotch.

  Nate opened the door.

  Jack waved the bottle of whiskey in his face. “What’s got you up this late, Harry?”

  “A woman. C’mon in.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow and cocked his head, studying the room over Nate’s shoulder. “Where is she? In the bathroom?” His grin was huge. “Did you invite me up to share?”

  “No, I invited you up to share your whiskey. I can’t sleep. Move your ass so I can shut the door.”

  Jack stepped into the room and Nate let the door fall closed behind him.

  Grabbing a couple of glasses from the bar, Jack asked, “So what’s up? I’ve never known Nathaniel Henry Neville to suffer from female troubles, especially when we make these business forays to New York.” He poured some of the pecan-colored liquor into each glass and handed one to Nate. “Cheers.”

  Nate lifted his glass to his friend and drank the Scotch down in one swallow. With a quick shake of his head, he held his glass up for a refill.

  Both eyebrows raised this time, Jack complied. He plopped down on the leather sofa and crossed his legs. “So, why not tell Dr. Jack what’s really bothering you?” He shot a glance toward the bathroom. “You’re sure there’s not a woman stashed away in there?”

  “See for yourself,” said Nate. “There’s no one here but us. I’ve checked.” He sat down across from his friend, balancing on the arm of an oversized chair. He watched Jack sip his Scotch. Nate knew his friend had questions, but he also knew he would wait until Nate volunteered any information.

  Swirling the liquid around in the glass, Nate asked, “How long have we been friends, Jack?”

  Clearing his throat, Jack sipped before answering. “What an absurd question. You know as well as I do we were raised like brothers. Shared the same pram, or so I’ve been told, although I can’t recall that detail myself.”

  Nate sipped his own Scotch. “In all the years you’ve known me, have I ever mentioned a recurring dream?”

  “Ah, so you’re having nightmares. That’s the problem? Do you mean one of those dreams when you show up buck naked in the middle of exams? I’ve had those.” He lifted his glass. “But usually I’m naked in the midst of a rugby scrum. Bugger.”

  Nate laughed. “That’s not quite what I’m talking about. Naked in a rugby scrum, eh? Not my cup of tea.”

  Jack twirled his glass, watching the liquor spin. “Then what are you talking about?”

  “A woman.”

  “I knew it.” Jack rose from his chair and opened the bathroom door. He peered inside. “There’s no one here. Where are you hiding her?”

  “Sit down, Jack.” Nate pointed at the sofa.” Listen to me for a second.”

  Jack sauntered back to his seat. “Sounds serious, Harry. What’s bothering you?”

  “For one thing,” Nate tipped his glass in Jack’s direction, “you can call me by my name.”

  Jack glared at him. “To me you’re Harry Neville. You’ll always be Harry Neville. I’ve never called you by your name. Why should I start now?”

  “Honestly?” Nate looked into his friend’s face. “I don’t know.” He slipped into the chair, stretched out his long legs, and crossed his bare feet on the coffee table. “In this recurring dream I have, she calls me Nathan.”

  Smiling, Jack said, “I knew it was a woman. Where did you meet her?”

  “That’s just it. I haven’t met her. I’m not even sure what she looks like. I’ve only seen bits and pieces of her.”

  “Now that’s interesting,” said Jack. “Which bits and pieces are we talking about?”

  A corner of Nate’s mouth turned up. “None of your business.” He pointed to the bottle. “I think I need another shot.”

  “Finish what you’ve got first. I want to hear more about the bits and pieces.”

  Nate rose to his feet and reached for the bottle. He poured himself another finger and leaned against the desk. “I first saw her two months ago, in a dream, of course. But it was only her hair I saw.”

  “And what color hair does this mystery woman have?”

  “Long red hair, auburn really. It falls in a mass of tangled curls down her back and it smells like summer.”

  “Is she a true redhead?” Jack interrupted.

  “Horny bastard,” Nate replied.

  “Always. Get on with it. I find this fascinating. What color are her eyes?”

  “Hazel. But I can’t seem to see her face all at once. It’s a dream, you know? I might see her lips or her hands…”

  “Ah, so you see whatever she’s doing at the time; is that it?”

  Nate could hear the eagerness in his friend’s voice. “More or less.”

  Jack poured more Scotch into his glass. “Which is it? More or less?”

  Waving off the insinuation, Nate continued his story. “Of late, the dreams have become more intense, more real. Jack, I feel as if I know her, or I should know her. She speaks to me like we’re lovers in every sense of the word.”

  “What does she say?” asked Jack.

  “It’s not so much what she says, it’s the things I know about her. For instance, I know she’s a graphic designer, but she wants to be a writer.”

  “That seems real enough. Are you certain this mystery woman isn’t someone you’ve met at a conference or a reception?”

  “No.” Nate was certain. “I’ve never met her in real life, yet I know her father died when she was a child. Her mother put her into foster care. I know that she…” He glared at his friend. “If you make an off-color remark, I may have to toss you out.”

  Jack threw up a hand as if to say, I’ll behave myself.

  Nate continued. “I know she has the longest, shapeliest legs any woman has ever wrapped around my ass and I know her taste like I know the taste of my favorite cabernet.”

  Jack gave a snort, but otherwise kept silent.

  “I get the feeling she knows me, things about me I don’t even realize. It’s got me spooked, Jack, but I can’t stop the dreams. The minute I close my eyes, there she is.” Nate ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Jack’s fingers tapped the edge of his glass. “Why, you do the same as any red-blooded Englishman, you find yourself a woman and you fuck her brains out. That’s what you do. It would seem celibacy does not agree with you. How long has it been since you and Marcy split up?”

  “Five months,” Nate replied.

  “And who have you dated since?”

  “Nobody of any significance.”

  “See?” Jack waved a hand at him. “There’s your problem. Not enough fucking. A man needs a good fuck every few days to stay in shape. When did you say these dreams began?”

  Nate swallowed the last of his Scotch. “Two months ago.”

  “And what were you doing two months ago?”

  “I don’t know.” Nate thought for a moment. “I was in Spain, on business. Yes, I was in Spain, on the Atlantic coast.”

  “Was there a woman? Did you meet with a redhead in Spain?”

  Nate shook his head. “No. I spent the entire time meeting with the investors and the ships’ captains.”

  “Well, there’s your problem. Like I said, celibacy doesn’t agree with you. You need a woman, my friend, and fast.” Jack set his glass down and stretched. He gave a great yawn. “I’m off to bed. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, but I don’t put much stock in dreams.” He rose to his feet. “The Scotch will put you to sleep. If she reappears,” he patted Nate on the back, “give her my room number.”

  “Jack, there’s something else.”

  Jack stopped in his tracks, but Nate hesitated. This is going to sound like I’ve gone off my nut.

  “What else?”

  “This last dream, the dream I had tonight, I don’t know how to say this. It’ll sound idiotic if I say it aloud.”

  “Say it anyway. I’d like to hear it.”

  “We’d, well, we’d…”

  �
��Dream fucked?” Jack interrupted.

  Nate rolled his eyes. “You know what? Goodnight. We both need some sleep.”

  “No, tell me more.”

  “Sorry, Jack, I’m done for the night.”

  Jack leaned his back up against the door. “Tell me.”

  “She held my hand and slid it down to her belly. She had one of those baby bumps the celebrities are always showing off in the gossip rags, and she asked - Can you feel the baby kick? I did, Jack. I felt the baby kick.” Nate tossed back the rest of his Scotch.

  “So you knocked up a dream girl?” He laughed. “How do you know it’s yours? There are billions of men in this world who dream of fucking strange redheads. Any one of them could be the imaginary father.”

  “You think I should see a doctor?” Nate asked.

  “You mean a shrink or an obstetrician? Jesus, Harry, you worry too much. Hell no, like I said, find a redhead and fuck her brains out. That’s my prescription. Better than antibiotics. Just remember to wear a jacket so you don’t make any dream babies.” He opened the door. “I’m off, early meeting. You have a meeting as well. You should hit the sack. Besides, you have a plane to catch,” Jack glanced at his watch, “in less than eighteen hours. Night, Harry.”

  “Night, Jack.”

  Nate set down his glass and walked over to the window. He pulled aside the heavy curtain and stared outside at the bright New York night. The city that never sleeps.

  I didn’t tell him I know her name, the redhead. It’s Sara, Sara Wise. And the child she’s carrying, maybe it’s only in a dream, but that child is mine.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nate was late. His meetings had gone long and now he’d be lucky to make it to Liberty International before his plane took off. Screw my bag. I’ll have a courier bring it to me later if necessary.

  His driver dropped him at the curb in front of Continental. Nate ran, dragging a beat up suitcase behind him, his soft calfskin satchel slung over his shoulder. He headed straight for the first class ticket counter. Thank God there’s no line.