A Gift of Grace

by Sarah Wynde

  Grace backed up, then began to drive. The quiet in the car felt natural but she could tell from casting quick sideways glances at Noah that he wasn’t sitting in silence. It was interesting to see him react — blinking, lips twisting, eyebrows subtly lifting and falling. He’d had a lack of expression before, a stillness, that must have been carefully cultivated. Relaxed, his face held a lively warmth.

  After a few moments, Grace had to ask. “What are they saying?”

  Noah’s voice was dry as he responded. “Your nephew is practicing his Spanish, trying to find out why Chaupi hasn’t moved on.”

  “Oh.” Grace frowned. Did Dillon speak Spanish? “When did he learn Spanish?”

  “Not sure he did,” Noah muttered.

  Grace chuckled, feeling more cheerful. While Noah listened to the ghosts, she’d been trying to strategize, to come up with a solution to the problem posed by too much spirit energy in Tassamara. Helping them move on was the obvious answer, of course.

  But she had to admit, if only to herself, that she hated that possibility.

  Dillon had been gone for such a long time. She’d never stopped missing him, but she’ d gotten used to his absence. The empty space he left in her life wasn’t filled and never would be, but she’d adjusted. They all had.

  Only then she’d learned he’d never really been gone at all.

  On Christmas, he’d texted her reminders of holidays long past, like the year her mom had accidentally melted the candy in their stockings by leaving them too close to the fire, and the time they’d both had the stomach flu and she’d thrown up on his presents.

  For the first time in a long time, it had felt almost like a real Christmas.

  And for him to leave now… it would be like losing him all over again.

  Besides, if it was time for Dillon to go, surely he would have his own doorway. There had to be a better answer.

  “What? No.” Noah shook his head. “That’s… no. Not gonna happen.”

  “What is it?” Grace asked.

  “They want me to get Avery to translate.”

  Grace turned onto the road that led to General Directions. “That makes sense, I guess.”

  Noah made a scoffing noise. “How does that conversation go? By the way, could you tell me what a ghost is saying? It’s not like asking for extra towels or the location of the nearest ATM.”

  “Avery would be thrilled,” Grace said confidently. She liked Avery. The innkeeper was opinionated, sarcastic, interesting, and always up for hosting a fun local evening. The B&B’s weekly movie nights sometimes overflowed the sitting room, with Avery the first to throw popcorn at the screen when a character did something stupid. And Avery was a true believer, willing to accept every passing stranger’s stories of kything, nensha and retrocognition.

  But if Avery translated, and they convinced this ghost to move on, would Dillon insist on going too? If he did, he’d miss Natalya’s wedding. He’d miss Akira’s baby being born. He’d miss… everything.

  And she’d miss him.

  “I’d have to explain about the ghosts. About hearing voices.”

  “So?”

  Noah didn’t answer right away. He was staring out the window.

  “A problem?” Grace asked.

  He didn’t say anything for a moment and then he looked her way, with a rueful smile. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told. First time I’ve ever talked about it.”

  “Seriously? You didn’t—” She took a hand off the steering wheel to gesture. “I don’t know. Look for help? Talk to your family? Your brother?”

  He looked out the window again.

  “Not a good subject?”

  He sighed. “I figured I knew what would happen. They’d tell me I was crazy and send me to a shrink.”

  “Maybe,” she conceded. “But a therapist might have helped you cope.”

  “I coped just fine.”

  “Just fine and happily are not the same.”

  “I’m not sure happy is an option for someone who hallucinates. Or is haunted.” He winced, closing his eyes and raising one hand to an ear. “Guys. Sorry.”

  “The chorus kibitzing?”

  “The chorus?” Noah snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “What’s the consensus?”

  He grinned at her. “Strong opinions on whether it’s worse to be haunted or to be the one doing the haunting and one dissenting voice from Rose, who thinks happy is always an option.”

  His grin did interesting things to her stomach. Or maybe it was her bloodstream, sending a hormonal cocktail of delight hurtling through her veins. A little breathless, she said, “I like her attitude.”

  His lips quirked but he didn’t answer.

  Returning her attention to the road, she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. She didn’t want Dillon to move on. But these other ghosts, maybe it could be time for them to go. The question was, why were they stuck?

  “Avery won’t mind helping you. They believe in ghosts. But there’s no rush, right? If the ghosts don’t have doors of their own, maybe there’s something they should be doing here.”

  “That unfinished business thing?”

  “Akira says it doesn’t work, but maybe she’s wrong. Or maybe it works for some ghosts and not others. Or maybe…” She fell silent, thinking. Maybe it wasn’t the ghosts’ business that was the problem. Her father’s words to her earlier in the day still had her feeling uneasy.

  Could the business belong to the living? Could spirits be trapped by the people they’d left behind?

  She slowed for the security booth. It was late enough that the guard had gone home, but the sticker on her car’s window lifted the automated gate and let her drive through.

  “I wonder,” she started slowly, knowing she was probably interrupting some ghostly voice.

  “Yeah?” he prompted.

  “I wonder if knowing why you’re haunted might help to, well, get you un-haunted.” She pulled into her usual parking space.

  Would he throw the question back to her, the way she had done to her brother? He wasn’t the only one who’d been haunted. Dillon might be wandering freely now, but he’d started out as trapped as any other ghost.

  But Noah’s situation was different. His ghosts weren’t trapped where they’d died, the way most of the ghosts Akira had told them about were. They were tied to Noah. There had to be some reason for that.

  Every hint of amusement in his voice was gone as he said quietly, “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Grace glanced at him. He was looking away, staring out the window, not moving to get out of the car.

  “No,” she answered, puzzled. “Should it be?”

  “I think so.” He looked back toward her. His face had shut down again, his expression grim, lips firmed, but he shrugged as if resigned. “It’s because I killed them.”

  Grace froze as he got out of the car.

  Killed them?

  He couldn’t be talking about all of them — he obviously hadn’t killed Dillon or Rose and somehow she didn’t think he’d killed some dude with a peanut allergy or a woman telling a guy named Tom to stop driving so fast.

  So… the first three. His friend from Basic. The woman and the kid.

  Shit.

  How did you tell a soldier that the things he’d done in a war zone were not his fault?

  And what if they were?

  25

  Noah

  “You didn’t plant that IED,” Joe said.

  The Arabic woman snorted.

  She knew, Noah thought. She knew.

  He wanted to walk away. He didn’t want to see the shock or the disgust or even the pity that would be in Grace’s eyes.

  But his throat felt tight. He was going to have to talk to them. To Joe, the woman, the kid. And what could he say? How could he apologize for everything he’d done and failed to do?

  First things first, though. Like it or not, he needed to say good-bye to Grace. No stomping straight off to his truc
k like a surly teenager, no matter how much he wished to.

  As he rested one hand on the car roof, waiting for her to get out, a dark blue sedan drove into the parking lot and pulled into a parking spot a few spaces down. Two people emerged: a man that he’d never seen before and a familiar copper-haired woman. Sylvie Blair.

  “Hey, my mom and dad are here,” Dillon said.

  Grace stepped out of the car. She turned toward Noah, opening her mouth, and spotted the new arrivals. A multitude of emotions flurried across her face — recognition, exasperation, annoyance — before she replaced them with a polite neutrality.

  “It appears my brother has reprioritized his workload,” she said, adding quietly, “We’ll talk later.”

  Noah appreciated the reprieve. But at the same time, he wanted to tell her that there was nothing to talk about. If he was haunted because of his guilt, no words would ever change that reality. He couldn’t go back and fix the past.

  Meanwhile, her brother was striding toward him, hand outstretched, Sylvie following a few steps behind.

  “You must be Noah Blake,” he said. “Lucas Latimer.”

  Warily, Noah shook hands, nodding in acknowledgement. What had Dillon said about his father? That he was some kind of psychic, Noah knew, but he couldn’t remember if Dillon had mentioned specifics.

  “What are you doing here, Lucas?” Grace demanded, before nodding toward his partner in politer greeting. “Sylvie.”

  “Grace,” Sylvie murmured back, a Mona Lisa smile on her lips. “And Mr. Blake. It’s a pleasure to finally see you again.” She put the faintest emphasis on the word “finally.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. If she’d told him more, maybe he’d have arrived sooner. Or not. Maybe if she’d told him more, he would have rolled his eyes and stayed far away.

  Maybe that would have been better.

  “Your mom is really young,” Sophia said. “And your dad is hot.” She sounded disapproving.

  “Ew,” Dillon said. “That’s my dad.”

  “He is pretty dreamy,” Rose said cheerfully. “Such luscious hair.”

  “He is a very attractive man,” Nadira agreed. “You have his eyes.”

  “You should like that, though. You would have looked just like him when you grew up,” Rose added.

  Noah bit back his sigh. Really? Did he seriously have to listen to a bunch of invisible girls crushing on a hot guy? At least they weren’t talking about him this time.

  Lucas blinked at him, a tint of color rising in his tanned cheeks. He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.

  “Did you finish the job you were working on?” Grace asked pointedly.

  Lucas turned his attention to her. “Not exactly, no.”

  “What exactly does ‘not exactly’ mean?”

  Noah put his hand over his mouth, rubbing his chin to hide his smile. It was the same voice she’d used earlier with the guy at the security station, Jensen. It had the same frosty edge, composed of two parts perfect enunciation and one part southern belle, and he liked it. It made him want to kiss her until she melted, until she was disheveled and laughing and breathless, and pulling him closer and kissing him harder.

  Lucas looked pained. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, shook his head, then put his hand over his eyes.

  Sylvie stepped forward. She looked like she was smothering a smile, but she said, “Is Dillon here?”

  “He is, yes,” Grace replied. “Is that why you’re here?”

  Sylvie stole a look at Lucas who still had his hand over his eyes. “More or less.”

  “Is it more or is it less?” Grace said. She turned her attention to her brother. “You have responsibilities, Lucas. It was your choice to take those responsibilities on. We have a reputation to uphold. We don’t walk away from jobs half-done. Isn’t that your policy?”

  Damn, but she was pretty when she was pissed off.

  Noah shifted, feeling a stirring that he was just as glad she was in no position to see. It was more than a little awkward to be lusting after a gorgeous woman in front of her brother, no matter how much the feeling was reciprocated.

  And he knew it was reciprocated. That moment in the kayak, when their eyes had met… if there hadn’t been a crowd of ghosts around them… In a split-second flash of imagination, he saw himself leaning forward, taking her lips, her enthusiastic response, the kayak spilling, the two of them in the water. She’d wrap her legs around him…

  “Oh, God,” Lucas muttered.

  Sylvie was quivering, her lips tucked together as if she were holding her breath. Noah frowned at her. Was she trying not to laugh?

  “We need to talk,” Lucas said.

  Noah wasn’t sure who the words were directed to. Lucas wasn’t looking at anyone in particular, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere over the kayak. Could he be talking to Dillon?

  “No,” Lucas said, eyes shifting to Noah.

  “My dad reads minds,” Dillon volunteered. “He knows what you’re thinking. My mom’s an empath. She can tell what people are feeling. But when they’re together, they’re both stronger. It’s like they’ve got a double super-power when the other one is around.”

  Great.

  That was just great.

  “That would suck,” Sophia said, sounding horrified. “You could never get away with anything.”

  “Man, that would be hard,” Joe agreed. He sounded more awed than appalled. “No little white lies. No claiming traffic was bad when really you were just goofing off.”

  “Lying is the source of all sin,” Nadira said. “You shouldn’t do it anyway. All the same, I would not like to live with someone who knew my every thought.”

  “Nah, you get used to it,” Dillon said. “It’s not so bad. And it’s really fun sometimes, too. I used to try to make him laugh at the wrong places when we were at the movies.”

  Deliberately, Noah forced his attention away from the ghostly voices. Maybe he should mentally start reciting the alphabet or the Military Code of Conduct. Or maybe he should sing.

  “You’ll have plenty of chances to talk to Noah,” Grace said, moving around to the front of the car. “He starts work on Monday.”

  Not “Kiss the Girl,” though. That wouldn’t be a good choice. The reminder of the kid singing sha-la-la-la had Noah fighting to maintain a straight face. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sylvie losing her struggle not to giggle.

  Lucas, however, wasn’t laughing. “What?” he said to Grace.

  Her smile was not friendly. “Noah starts work on Monday. With the security team, for the moment.”

  Noah stuffed his hand in his pocket, wrapping his fingers around his truck key. He didn’t want to disagree with Grace and he didn’t want her brother reading his mind. But he wasn’t so sure…

  Sha-la-la-la, he thought, as loudly as he could.

  Sylvie snorted.

  “We discussed that,” Lucas said to Grace. “I told you my position.”

  “Your position is an opinion.” Grace folded her arms across her chest. “And your opinion is irrelevant.”

  Lucas took a deep breath. Maybe he was counting to ten.

  Sylvie put a hand on his arm. “Maybe we should all go inside and talk. We can hit up one of the vending machines for a snack along the way. It’s been a long day.”

  “It’s been a long week.” Lucas glared at his sister as if he blamed her for that.

  “Dillon was missing for weeks, plural.” Grace moved her hands to her hips. “Shouldn’t that have meant for some long months?”

  “Oh, don’t you start with—” Lucas’s tone was heated.

  “Nope.” Sylvie’s gentle touch turned into a firm grasp.

  “Uh-oh,” Dillon said, sounding guilty. “Are they fighting about me?”

  “Did you let them know where you were?” Rose asked him.

  Sylvie began tugging Lucas toward the door of the building. “You are not doing this. Not like this. We’re going to get a snack and maybe a drink, hit
the restroom, and then we’ll sit down and talk like civilized people. No saying things you’ll regret later just because you’re tired and hungry and worried.”

  Lucas let himself be towed along.

  “I sent them some texts while I was away,” Dillon said. “Told them I was fine.”

  “Parents like to know more about their children than that,” Nadira said. “You’re as bad as Noah. Never calling his mother. Hmph.”

  Ouch. Noah winced. Over the years, Nadira had commented caustically on his behavior more than once. More than a few times, in fact. He’d thought of her as the voice of his conscience sometimes. But it was different now that he knew she was another person, not just his subconscious.

  “I’ll text them,” Dillon said. “Right now.”

  Grace let her hands drop, eyes searching Noah’s face. “Don’t worry about Lucas. He likes to think he’s in charge, but he’s not.”

  “I’m not worrying.” He needed to tell her that he wasn’t sure about working here, about working for her. It would be a mistake.

  And it should feel like a mistake to her, too, he thought, closing his hand around his truck key. He’d just told her that he’d killed three people. Shouldn’t she be rescinding that job offer right about now?

  “He’s over-protective,” she went on. “It’s not personal, really. He just thinks that anyone who worked for AlecCorp is… well…” She shrugged.

  “A killer?” Noah said gently. It was not untrue. “Or traumatized? The returning vet as ticking time bomb?” He didn’t blame her brother, but a hint of the bitterness he felt at life post-Iraq seeped through. People were quick enough to thank him for his service, but it didn’t help him fit in any better.

  “It’s not the military he has issues with,” Grace said. “He was investigating AlecCorp for months. He’s not a fan.”

  “He’s not the only one,” Nadira said. “Those people…”

  He could imagine the disapproving shake of her head and her pursed lips, and his own lips twisted into a wry smile.

  “Eh, they weren’t so bad,” Joe said, before adding a reflective, “Well…”

  Noah knew exactly what he meant. AlecCorp had been a mixed bag. There’d been some guys there that he’d want to keep his little sister away from, too, if he had one. “It’s not a problem. I understand. But…” He should tell her he didn’t want the job. Instead he found himself saying, “I should go.”