"If I say it as one word, and say it often," he said gruffly, "it is because you specialize in irritating me."
She lifted his hand, pressed a kiss to the tiny cut, then looked up at him and laughed.
"What you're trying to say, Captain, is that I piss you off. It's inelegant, but if you're going to be a twentieth-century male, you'll have to learn the lingo."
Matthew smiled. It was impossible to do anything less, with those blue eyes of hers teasing his but then his smile faded, his frown returned, and he pulled his hand from hers.
"I am not a twentieth-century male, Kathryn. That is what you refuse to accept."
"Don't be so stubborn." She put her hands flat against his chest, reveling in the steady drum of his heart. "This is 1996 and here you are. What else would you call yourself?"
"A freak of nature," he said coldly, "or of darkness. I am not certain which."
"Honestly, Matthew, in some ways you're as impossible as Jason. When I told him I wasn't going to meet him in Florida, that I'd decided to stay here, at Charon's Crossing—"
"You told him what?"
Damn, Kathryn thought, oh damn! She hadn't meant to break the news this way. Matthew was going to try and talk her out of it, she was certain of it. Well, she was just as certain that she wanted a life with him and not with Jason. She'd made a decision. Sooner or later, he had to be told of it and now was as good a time as any.
"I'm not going back," she said softly. Her eyes met Matthew's. "I told that to Jason when I phoned him."
A muscle knotted in Matthew's jaw.
"What do you mean, you're not going back?"
"How much more clearly can I put it, Matthew? I love you. You love me. And we want to be together. Isn't that right?"
"Kathryn." He shook his head, knowing the rest even before she said it. "Listen to me, Kathryn..."
"No. You listen to me, for a change." Her words were rushed, with an almost desperate intensity. "I'm going to live here, with you, at Charon's Crossing."
"Dammit, Kathryn!"
She laughed and looped her arms around his neck. "You see? You're doing it again."
"Kathryn, this is no time to be clever." Matthew put his hands on her waist to keep her from settling against his chest. "There is nothing for you here. This house is little better than a ruin!"
"We'll fix it up together. You can figure out what we need in the way of lumber and paint and all the rest, and I'll go into town and buy it."
"Don't be crazy!" He reached one hand behind his neck, clasped her wrists, and drew her arms down between them. "What sort of life would you have here, madam? In a house in the middle of nowhere, with a man who is not a man."
"You're all the man I'll ever want," she whispered.
She lifted herself towards him, eyes languorous and lips half-parted, and he breathed an oath and pushed her back.
"I am not a man at all," he said coldly. "Shall I walk through a wall by way of reminder?"
She stared at him and then her mouth began to tremble. "All right," she said. "Okay. You come up with a better plan, then." She crossed the terrace with quick steps, turned and glowered at him. "If I could travel back in time to be with you, I would do it. But I can't. This isn't like some—some old 'Star Trek' episode, where characters can float back and forth through a hole in the space-time continuum."
" 'Star Trek'? What is—"
"Dammit, Matthew!" Kathryn stamped her foot. "Do not do that! I'm not going to let myself be sidetracked. You know what I mean. We aren't caught in—in some kind of time warp!" She took a deep breath, then blew it out. "You can't enter my world."
"The woman speaks the truth at last!"
"So I—I thought about the possibility of entering yours."
Matthew frowned. "I don't under..." His face whitened and he strode to where she stood and caught hold of her. "Do you mean, you thought of dying?"
"Matthew! You're hurting me!"
"Are you insane?" he demanded in fury. "There is nothing romantic about death, and nothing predictable, either. I know only what happened to me, not what happens to anyone else. Do you have an answer to the question people have been asking since time began? Nay, Kathryn, I think not!"
"I think not, too. I mean, I don't know what happens. That's why I gave up the idea. Why are you getting so angry? And would you please let go? You're going to leave fingerprints on my arms!"
"I ought to leave handprints on your bottom!" A muscle knotted and unknotted in his jaw. "Just because I ended up here is no guarantee that you—"
"I keep telling you, I realized that! That's one of the reasons I've come up with this plan!"
Matthew's eyes narrowed. "What plan?"
"The one I was explaining before you flew off the handle!" Her expression softened. "I'm going to stay here, with you."
"For how long? You cannot expect to shut out reality forever."
Kathryn smiled. "That's exactly what I do expect. I'm never going back, Matthew. Don't you understand? I'm going to stay with you forever."
He could not help himself. Her soft words sent his heart racing before he realized how futile they were.
"Nay. You cannot."
Kathryn laughed softly and moved into his arms.
"Have you forgotten everything I told you? The world has changed, my love. Women don't let men tell them what to do anymore."
"Kathryn, listen to me. You might as well sentence yourself to life imprisonment."
"Imprisonment? To live the rest of my life with the man I love in a tropical paradise?" She laughed again and put her arms around his neck. "Nay, Captain, I think not."
"Think, Kathryn. You would lack all the wonderful things in your books."
"Indeed. Air pollution, noise, traffic jams..." Her sigh was long and dramatic. "What a tragedy."
"You would have no one to talk with but me."
"Ah. Yet another tragedy."
"You have a life in the world, Kathryn, a career you've said you enjoy."
"The wonder of computers. Wait until I show you what happens with a phone jack, a modem, and an adaptor."
"And what of Waring?"
"What of him? He's dead."
"I don't know that. He may come back, and if he does—"
"Are you afraid of him?"
"Aye. Not for myself, but for you."
"I'm more afraid of the emptiness of a life without you."
"Kathryn," Matthew said tightly, "I will not let you do this."
"I am a free and independent woman. I can do anything I want, and what I want is to be with you." Gently, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed his mouth. "I love you, Matthew."
He tried not to close his arms around her, but it was like trying to keep from breathing.
"Kathryn," he whispered in despair.
"Shh," she said, and kissed him again.
After a while, there was no more to say that could not be better said with mouths and hands and hearts.
* * *
Kathryn would not be moved.
"Stubborn woman," Matthew said grimly, and she smiled and said that "stubborn" was simply another word for "determined."
He gave up arguing. There was no point to it. She had an answer for everything, no matter what he asked or how brutally he phrased it. Even when he reminded her that she would age and grow old while he remained young, she only blanched for a second and then she said that if she could love a 184-year-old man, he could love a 60-year-old woman.
"Especially if she takes a week or two off for plastic surgery," she said, and set him first to grimacing with an explanation of what such surgery entailed and then to laughing with an exaggerated mimicry of what the results might be.
But, in his heart, he didn't laugh. He thought, instead, of what it would be like for him to watch her grow old. Not that he would care about the wrinkles she would collect, nor the sags. He knew, with the clear instinct of a man deeply in love, that his Kathryn would be forever beautiful in his eyes.
What he imagined instead was what agony it would be to see the years race away as she gave up her youth, her very life, for him.
She deserved better. He had to find a way to ensure that she got it, that she had a future instead of a present that was forever mired in the past.
But she was beyond convincing.
And then, quite by accident, Olive Potter paid an unannounced visit and showed him the way.
* * *
"Kathryn," Olive said brightly, when Kathryn opened the front door. "How good to see you again."
"Hello, Olive. Won't you come in?"
Olive stepped inside the house, the smile still affixed to her lips. "My, you have accomplished wonders, haven't you? The place is so polished and bright lookin'!"
"You can't really be surprised." Kathryn's smile was pleasant but her tone was cool. "Surely, you've had a full report from Elvira."
"Sorry?"
"Or from Hiram. Or Amos."
"I'm sorry, Kathryn. I don't know what you mean."
Kathryn sighed. "It doesn't matter. Actually, I'm glad you came by. I wanted to speak to you about selling Charon's Crossing."
"Yes? Well, that is why I'm here this mornin', to tell you—"
"I've decided not to sell."
"Kathryn," Matthew said sharply, "don't tell her that."
Kathryn glared past Olive's shoulder to where Matthew stood in the door to the sitting room.
"Mind your business," she said.
Olive's eyes widened. "I beg your pardon?"
Kathryn smiled at the realtor. "I wasn't talking to you, Olive. Look, I changed my mind about getting rid of the house. I. meant to tell you sooner, but—"
"Dammit, Kathryn!"
"Dammit, Matthew!"
Olive screwed her head around and glanced nervously over her shoulder. "Who are you talkin' to, Kathryn?"
"Olive, I want you to take this place off the market."
"Off the...? But I don't understand."
"Nor do I," Matthew said grimly. "Nor will anyone with half a brain."
"It's my decision to make, not yours."
"Well, of course it is," Olive said, "but why have you changed your mind?"
"What a good question." Matthew smiled coolly and folded his arms. "Go on, try explaining yourself to her. Tell her you've decided to give up your life for a ghost and see what she says."
"I don't have to explain anything!"
"No," Olive said, "of course you don't. It's only that you've taken me by surprise, especially since I've brought the most wonderful news."
"What news?"
"I've found a buyer!" Olive said triumphantly. "An excellent buyer, I must say. This gentleman owns half a dozen exclusive health and beauty spas in the States and he's been thinkin' of expandin' and, well, he thinks Charon's Crossin' will be just perfect!"
"Sorry. You'll have to explain that it's not for sale."
"Oh, but he's made a fine offer." Olive leaned forward, her eyes bright. "Of course, he wants to see it himself but I've shown him photos, told him it needs lots of work—"
"Well, untell him. Charon's Crossing isn't for sale."
"But why?"
"I'm going to live here, that's why." Kathryn swung the front door open.
"Live here?" Olive looked around her in disbelief. "Surely you are jokin'. Short of rebuildin' this place from top to bottom, the only thing Charon's Crossin' is good for is a bonfire for toastin' marshmallows!"
"Good-bye, Olive," Kathryn said firmly.
As soon as she shut the door she turned around, prepared for another verbal battle with Matthew. But he was standing as he had been, with such a strange emptiness in his eyes that her heart dropped.
"Matthew?" she said. "Are you angry with me?"
He blinked, as if she'd called him back from some dark place, and opened his arms to her.
"No, sweetheart," he said, as she went into them, "I'm not angry. How could I be, when I love you with all my heart?"
* * *
He had the plan now, thanks to Olive.
He stood below the cliff, staring out over the ocean, and wondered why it had taken him so long to see it.
If Kathryn would not leave him, he would leave her.
It was as simple, as perfect, as that.
He could not change what he was, nor the restrictions of his existence. That he was doomed to haunt Charon's Crossing forever was irrefutable.
But what if there were no Charon's Crossing for him to haunt?
With its demise would surely come his. He didn't know what would become of him. He might cease to exist. He might return to that terrible blackness in which he had awakened.
It didn't matter. This had to be done.
The thought that he would never again see a sunrise, or hear the cry of a gull on the wind or taste the salt spray of the sea, made him smile with bitter irony.
What did any of that matter?
Only weeks ago, he had told Kathryn what a fool he'd been to sacrifice himself for love, that love was an illusion. Now, he knew he had been wrong.
Love, true love, was no illusion. It was life's greatest gift, as he had finally learned, and he could rejoice that it had been his, if only for a short time.
It wasn't his sacrifice that had been foolish, it was the cause. Cat had been worth nothing. But Kathryn... she was worth the world.
The faulty hot water heater would make it simple. The old man, Hiram, had explained everything. The valve that must not be opened, the evil-smelling gas that would fill the room, the spark or flame that would so easily ignite it. All that remained was to find the right moment, and quickly, before he lost courage. He could face whatever unknown lay ahead for himself but as time went by, would he be strong enough to take the steps that meant he would lose Kathryn at the same instant he liberated her?
Matthew bowed his head to whatever power might still exist in the cold and desolate world that was his.
He had the plan, and the resolve. All he needed now was the opportunity.
"Help me," he whispered.
And that came, too, with the sunset. Kathryn was dressing for dinner and he was out on the terrace, waiting for the charcoal in the grill to reach the right color before putting on their steaks, when he heard a knock at the front door.
He went inside the house just in time to see an envelope come sliding under the door. He bent down, picked it up, and peeped out the window. A boy was racing down the driveway on a strange, two-wheeled vehicle.
Matthew looked casually at the envelope. It was addressed to Kathryn from something called Western Union. He shrugged, started to toss it on the table... and hesitated.
Open it, a voice inside him seemed to whisper.
He frowned. He had never opened nor read correspondence not addressed to him in his life and this letter was surely not for him.
Open it!
He cast a quick glance up the steps. He could hear the shower running. Quickly, he ripped open the envelope, unfolded the note inside, and read it.
It began with today's date and was from Kathryn's mother. She had had a call from Amos Carter and another from Jason.
"Both of them are worried, and now so am I," the note said.
She was in Miami and would be flying into Hawkins Bay late tonight by charter. Kathryn was to meet her at the airfield promptly at ten.
Matthew read the note again. Above, on the second floor, the sound of the shower stopped.
"Forgive me, Kathryn," he whispered. He crumpled the note and the envelope in his fist, went quickly out to the terrace, tossed both onto the fire and watched them burn.
* * *
"Ah," Kathryn sighed, stretching luxuriously, "that was wonderful."
Matthew smiled. He reached across the table, took her hand and kissed the fingertips. She looked especially lovely to him tonight, in a pale blue halter dress and with her hair tumbling over her shoulders.
"It was nothing, madam," he said. "A candlelit table on the terrace, a bouquet of roses..
."
"Pink roses. My very favorite kind."
Matthew grinned. "Excellent news, since those are the only ones that grow at Charon's Crossing."
"The wine was lovely, too."
"A vintage bottle, unearthed from the wine cellar to accompany a pair of steaks grilled to absolute perfection. ''Twas nothing but a modest repast."
Kathryn smiled. "You were teasing me the other day, when you said you didn't know how to cook."
"Every man knows how to char a side of beef."
"Starting with the first caveman. What is it with guys and open fires?"
"Something deep and primitive, perhaps." Matthew's eyes glittered. "Akin to what seems to be our native dexterity with television remotes."
Kathryn laughed. He was right. For a man who'd never seen a television set until a few days ago, Matthew had shown a remarkable and, she suspected, completely male affinity for channel surfing.
"I can't deny that you took to the tube like a veteran."
"Well, the TV is a remarkable invention. But I think, in the final analysis, I prefer the radio."
"Really? Why?"
Matthew smiled and got to his feet. "Stay right where you are and I'll show you." Moments later, soft, romantic music drifted out into the flower-scented night. When he came back to the table, he held out his hand. "Because of that. The music." His smile was bittersweet. "It takes me back to a time when both I, and Charon's Crossing, were real."
"Don't say that! You're as real to me as anyone could ever be."
"Close your eyes," he whispered, slipping his arm around her waist, "and picture this place with candles blazing in every room."
Kathryn laid her head on his shoulder.
"It must have been beautiful."
"Oh, aye, it was. The lights, the music, the food and drink..."
She smiled. "Impressive, hmm?"
"Very." He turned her towards him and smiled in return. "And, though you have not deigned to ask me, madam, I can assure you that I, too, was an impressive sight."
Kathryn laughed softly. "No pink T-shirt and faded Levi's, hmm?"
"Please, m'lady. My buttons and buckles were so highly polished they could have served as signal lamps. I was a wonder to behold."
Charon's Crossing (A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel) Page 33
