Possessing Elissa

by Donna Sterling

  Jesse wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Or maybe kiss the sense right out of her. But he couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t risk losing contact with her again. “Those roses mean one thing and one thing only. He can’t wait to get his hands on you.” And then I’ll have to kill him.

  Elissa stiffened and lifted her chin. “I’ve spent a lot of time with Dean in the past ten years, and he’s always been kind, considerate, generous....”

  “Are you telling me you haven’t slept with him?”

  She planted her fists on her hips and glowered. “I’m not telling you anything.”

  He stared at her hard and long, as if rifling through her thoughts to find an answer to his question. On a peculiarly jagged note, he finally queried, “Are you in love with him?”

  She opened her mouth to tell him no, but stopped. How unfair to Dean to tell Jesse something so personal about their relationship before she explained it to Dean himself.

  When she didn’t answer, Jesse shut his eyes in a brief, hard wince. When he reopened them, they’d grown infinitely colder. His voice emerged as smooth and polished as a sea-washed stone. “Has he worked up enough courage yet to pop the big question?”

  “He has asked me to marry him, if that’s what you mean.”

  Though Jesse hadn’t been moving much to begin with, he seemed to lapse into a concentrated state of immobility—as if breath itself had left his body. “And...?” he prompted.

  “And what?”

  “Do you plan to marry him?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Movement returned to him then in the form of a harsh scowl. “The hell it’s not. The man you marry will live with my son, at least part of the time. You don’t think I’d let you and Dean have full custody of Cody, do you?”

  She retreated a step, her hand to her heart, her back to the solid oak door. “Jesse, you can’t—”

  “Don’t be too sure about what I can or cannot do. If you marry Dean, I’ll damn sure share custody of my son.”

  “And if I don’t?” she asked faintly.

  “Then, when I’m home on leave or stationed nearby, I’ll keep Cody. You’d be welcome to stay with us, if you’d like. Or, to simplify matters—” his gaze intensified and his voice lowered to a rough whisper “—we can marry.”

  Elissa gaped at him, stunned. “You and I?”

  “No, I thought we’d advertise for spouses in the personal ads. Of course, you and I.”

  “You’d do that, for...Cody?”

  His lips tightened, his nostrils flared. “I don’t see why not. I intended to change his name to Garrett, anyway.”

  Her bottom lip jutted out with sudden anger. “I’ll marry whomever I damn well please, and I promise you this—it won’t be you. I don’t ask for much in a man, but I do prefer him alive!”

  “Elissa?” Dean’s voice intruded from the other side of the bedroom door, startling her. “Who are you talking to?”

  “I’m...talking...on the phone,” she improvised. “Why don’t you go downstairs and make that popcorn you brought? It’s almost time for your television shows.”

  “They’ve already started.” He sounded petulant, just short of whiny. “I thought you’d be down there by now.”

  “I’ll be down in a moment.” She waited until his footsteps thudded down the stairs before she turned back to Jesse. “Dean doesn’t deserve to be thrown out of your house like a sack of garbage. He’s a good man. An honest man. A man who stood by me when others didn’t.”

  Her emphasis on the word “others” furrowed Jesse’s brow. “Do you mean me?”

  “If the shoe fits...”

  “That’s the whole problem between us, isn’t it, Elissa? You think I ignored your letters. I’m telling you one last time: I didn’t even see them until I got back from my mission. For one thing, you used my old address. A very old address. I was lucky they even reached—” Jesse stopped. “Where did you get that address?”

  She pursed her lips and stared, refusing to say.

  “It was Dean, wasn’t it.” And the picture slid into clear focus. Disturbingly clear focus. Anger—and a dull sense of betrayal—flushed through him, washing away illusions built over a lifetime. As the initial surge of anger ebbed, Jesse realized another truth. He hadn’t ever counted too heavily on Dean’s support. He hadn‘t— and didn’t—believe too much in anyone’s support of him.

  He’d always known deep inside that he was alone.

  “You’re angry about Dean giving me your address,” Elissa said. She crossed her arms and watched him with eyes that glittered accusingly. “He said you would be. Don’t you dare hold it against him. I was pregnant with your child. To Dean, that was justification enough to break his promise.”

  “He told you I made him promise not to give you my address?” No wonder she’d been so peeved. Clever, Jesse had to admit. In one fell swoop, Dean had alienated Elissa from him and sabotaged their communication.

  “Why didn’t you want me to have your address, Jesse?” she probed, both anger and sadness in her voice. “What were you afraid I’d do with it?”

  “I never told him to keep my address from you. In fact, I deliberately gave him my current one.” He plied her with a searching gaze. “Why do you think he gave you an address that hasn’t been good for more than eight years now?”

  She blinked, taken aback, but after a moment, she shrugged. “He obviously thought that was your current address.”

  “He wrote the real one on the back of his hairstylist’s business card and slipped it into his wallet.”

  That surprised her, though she refused to be swayed into doubting her knight in shining armor. “None of that matters now. If Dean has to leave this house tonight, so do L”

  Anger tightened every muscle in Jesse’s body. “Go ahead. But you won’t take Cody. I’ll make sure of that.” A bluff, and he knew it. His energy level was too low now to do much of anything, or he would have already strangled Dean. In truth, he barely had enough energy to remain visible to Elissa. Fortunately, she wasn’t aware of that. Another lesson he’d learned in the course of his military career—when low on weapons or men, bluff.

  Elissa squared her jaw. “Don’t threaten me, Jesse.” With one last glare, she stalked out of the bedroom.

  He knew then that he’d made a gross tactical error. Instead of making her see that Dean was the intruder, he had placed himself in that role. He was the enemy now, as far as she was concerned. She might even turn to Dean for help.

  Jesse gritted his teeth. He’d been a damn fool, trying to keep her with him by force, virtually holding her baby hostage. What the hell kind of strategy was that? No better than a terrorist’s.

  He wanted his son, yes. And he wanted Elissa. But not under duress. He wanted her to know the truth about him and his reaction to her letters. He wanted her to stay with him of her own free will. He wanted her to want him.

  How to make her believe his word against a man she’d known for ten years as a friend and maybe a lover? She’d known Jesse for days, not years, and in that brief time, he’d brought her only misery and shame.

  He cursed the mission that had kept him out of touch with her, cursed his cousin for his sly deceit. Most of all, he cursed his own blind stupidity.

  He clearly saw the enemy now.

  Time for a forward advance. He had no weapons. He couldn’t as much as lift an ashtray, let alone assert physical force. He couldn’t be heard to issue challenges or ultimatums; he couldn’t even be seen, except by Elissa.

  Nevertheless, the battle line would have to be drawn. His cousin would have to defend his actions or pay the price for his sabotage. Elissa would have to choose her side of that battle line.

  10

  ELISSA RETURNED TO the living room, gritting her teeth. Jessie had gone too far this time, trying to pin the blame for his own neglect on Dean. If Dean had indeed given her the wrong address for Jesse, it must have been an innocent mistake. />
  Besides, even if her letter hadn’t reached Jesse in time, Dean had spoken with him over the phone, not once, but many times before his mission began. According to Dean, Jesse hadn’t wanted to speak to her or about her.

  A sudden doubt permeated her anger. Was it fair to Jesse to withhold her knowledge of those calls? Should she have broken Dean’s confidence and demanded that Jesse explain? He’d only deny making the calls. What else could he do?

  But the niggling doubt persisted. Was Jesse a liar? Was he? She honestly didn’t know. She wanted to believe he wasn’t. But his own family had warned her repeatedly that he had ways of convincing women—especially vulnerable women—of anything. And with Jesse, she was indeed vulnerable.

  He’d had the gall to ask her to marry him in order to “simplify” his visits with Cody. As if she had nothing better to do with her life than to make things convenient for him. The man’s ego was nothing short of delusional. And yet, for the briefest moment, she’d been tempted to accept his offer!

  If that wasn’t proof of onsetting insanity, what was?

  Silently admonishing herself for allowing any man to demolish her better judgment, she settled back against the sofa cushions beside Dean. Absently, she toyed with the crossword puzzle in her lap—another of Dean’s gifts, and part of a ritual they’d fallen into: television, popcorn and crossword puzzles. She stared in the direction of the television that had already mesmerized him into a stupor.

  What, she wondered, would be Jesse’s next step? The question made her nervous. She’d infuriated him, she knew. It was only a matter of time before he’d retaliate. Unless, of course, he faded out again.

  Despite her irritation with him, worry spiraled through her. Surely he wouldn’t fade away for good, just because she’d angered him?

  No, she told herself, remembering the insults he’d just slung at her. He was too mean to vanish that easily. But he wouldn’t hurt Cody or her, and she seriously doubted he’d hurt his own cousin. So whatever his next move might be, she’d simply ignore him.

  She fiddled with her pencil above her crossword puzzle, and her thoughts returned to his flippant marriage proposal. Marriage obviously meant very little to him if he could offer it so casually. Why should that bother her so?

  And why was she having such a hard time remembering that he wasn’t a man, but a ghost? A ghost with no earthly future; a ghost whose marriage proposal meant nothing, regardless of his shallow motivation for making it. Sadness at that thought overwhelmed her.

  Beside her, Dean, in his Mr. Rogers-style cardigan and tassled loafers, took another huge, buttered handful from the popcorn bowl in his lap and munched in dazed contentment. Every now and then he’d let out a guffaw of laughter at the rerun of the “Donna Reed Show.” Next would be “Father Knows Best.” His enjoyment wasn’t lessened at all by the fact that they’d seen every episode many times over.

  Elissa bent her attention to her crossword puzzle, determined to expunge Jesse from her mind.

  “Hot date, huh?” The comment, lightly spoken, held only a trace of wryness—but a heavy dose of resentment.

  She stiffened. Jesse stood a few feet away, his booted feet spread in a classically virile stance, his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his jeans, his gaze centered on her.

  After a quick glance at Dean, who was still occupied with his television and popcorn, Elissa forced her attention back to her crossword puzzle, reminding herself that no matter what Jesse did, she’d ignore him. She read the first clue to the puzzle—one, across.

  “I’m sorry I said that Dean had sex in mind when he brought you those roses,” said Jesse. “I apologize if I...cheapened the gesture.”

  Elissa read the due to her puzzle again, but couldn’t quite focus on its meaning. She moved on to the next

  “Guess I just didn’t like the idea of another man bringing you roses.”

  The print swam before her eyes. She wouldn’t look at him. She swore she wouldn’t.

  He ambled closer, until his legs and thighs encased in worn denim intruded into her peripheral vision. He leaned one hip lazily against an armchair. “But you weren’t quite right when you said I can’t think past my zipper.”

  A dull heat crept into her cheeks, and a crushing witticism sprang to her tongue. She longed to barb him with her retort, but Dean sat fairly close beside her on the sofa.

  As much as she tried to resist, Jesse’s gaze drew hers—too compelling to ignore—and held her with a seriousness that took her breath away. “The truth is,” he whispered gruffly, “I can’t think past you.”

  Warmth pulsated through her.

  “You believe that I made love to you that night, then went overseas without giving you another thought. That our lovemaking meant nothing to me.” He sank down into the armchair, his knees apart, his forearms resting across them, his eyes now level with hers. “That just ain’t so.”

  The heated sincerity in his stare blinded her to everything but him. She felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into another dimension. A dimension of emotion, of undiluted need. “What about you, Elissa?” he rasped. “How did you feel about our night together? Did it mean anything to you other than a good time?”

  “Of course it did!” The low cry rushed from her lips before she could prevent it.

  Dean cocked her an asking glance.

  “I’m just...just trying to figure out this crossword puzzle,” she uttered lamely. She needn’t have worried. His attention immediately bounced back to the screen—and to the remote control he kept poised to fend off commercials.

  “Tell me, Elissa,” Jesse persisted, his gaze beseeching her with a dark magnetism, “what did it mean to you, that night we...found each other?”

  Everything, she thought. Moisture coated her eyes. Here she was, fighting back tears and proclamations of love, after swearing to ignore him! She had to find more strength than this. She had to harden her heart. In desperation, she scribbled on the corner of her crossword puzzle, Can’t talk now. With a sideways glance at an impervious Dean, she tipped the page to an angle for Jesse to see.

  He read her message, and his gaze entwined with hers. “If our lovemaking meant anything to you, anything at all, you will talk now. And you’ll tell Dean that I’m here.”

  Her lips parted in dismay. Again, she put her pencil to the page and wrote, He might call too much attention to you.

  “I’m not afraid of Dean or anything he can do.”

  I am, she scribbled, underlining the words.

  “Afraid that you’ll lose him?”

  She battled her inclination to tell him he was wrong. She wasn’t afraid of losing Dean; she was afraid of losing Jesse.

  “You don’t love him, Elissa,” he swore with a soft harshness. “If you did, you wouldn’t have gone to bed with me. Not the first time, and not the second.” In a scalding whisper, he added, “You might not know me, but I know you.” Anguish glinted deep within his stare and touched her heart.

  Why do you want Dean to know you’re here? she wrote.

  He read the question, and when he lifted his eyes again, the anguish had vanished, leaving only stark, gray ice. “We have things to settle, Dean and I.”

  His tone, his demeanor, the tense lines of his body, all communicated a threat that scared Elissa. What did he mean to do, and why? Leave us alone, Jesse, she wrote, hoping that by some miracle he’d listen.

  When he’d read her reply, he drew in a long, quiet breath. Then he plied her with a look of utter disappointment—and an odd resignation that pierced her. “Is that what you want? Is it?”

  Even before the question had fully registered, his presence changed. He began to fade. Before her very eyes, his image lost its vividness, and then its solidity, until it wavered like a hologram, transparent and surreal.

  “Jesse!” she cried, reaching for him.

  And then he was gone. Vanished.

  She leaped to the armchair where he’d been sitting and groped the air, desperate to pull him back. “Oh
, Jesse, Jesse, I didn’t mean—”

  “Elissa?” The word was a sharp admonishment as well as a question. She turned to find Dean staring at her with an astonished look. “What in heaven’s name—? Had you fallen asleep? Were you dreaming?”

  Perched on one knee at the edge of the armchair, she gazed at him in mute agony, a sob lodged in her throat. “No. No, I wasn’t dreaming.”

  “You were calling Jesse.”

  She searched wildly around the room, hoping against hope that he might still be there. But the resignation in his gaze remained vivid in her memory. She’d made a choice, and he had honored it. The sob worked its way from her throat to her lips. All he’d asked of her was honesty—to let Dean know he was there. Could that request have had something to do with his final goal? If so, she had failed him miserably.

  Coming to a decision, she returned to her place on the sofa and faced Dean. “There’s something you should know. Something I should have told you earlier.”

  He frowned and lifted a shoulder. “What?”

  “Jesse...” Her throat closed at the mention of his name, and she struggled to clear it. After a moment, she managed to say, “Jesse has been here.”

  Dean’s sandy-brown eyebrows scrunched together. “Of course he’s been here. He lived here.”

  “No, I mean recently. This evening. He was...with us.”

  Dean barked an uncomfortable little laugh, as if she’d made a joke he didn’t quite understand. With a decisive move—one that proclaimed the seriousness of the subject—he aimed the remote control and lowered the volume of the television. “Surely you don’t mean that literally?”

  “Yes, actually, I do. His ghost has been haunting me.” As her words sank in, Dean’s brows rose. Determinedly, she pressed on, “I told you about the first time I saw him—me morning of his death. He appeared again after his funeral, when I came to look at his house. And quite a few times since. That’s why I’m here. To communicate with him.”