Dead and Gone

by Angela M Hudson

  Sam arrived not too long after, and when he saw the ghostly white expression on her face, jumped out of the car before the engine had fully shut off and wrapped her up in his arms. “I knew it.” He squeezed her so tightly she could feel the fear slipping away. “I knew I wasn't just seeing things.”

  “I thought it was you.” Ali wanted to both laugh and cry. “I saw someone walk into the turret and I heard footsteps on the stairs.”

  “That’s what I usually see.”

  “Doesn’t it spook you out?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed, holding her out from his chest slightly. “But I don't think we’re in any danger.”

  “The fire was lit, Sam.” Ali glanced up at the tower. “I’m guessing you didn’t light it.”

  He looked at the tower too, trying to ignore the voice in his head that was telling him things had gotten worse. “No, I didn’t. But maybe you imagined it.”

  “I didn’t imagine it. Go see for yourself.”

  “Come on.” Sam took her hand, the warmth and strength of his touch making her feel silly now for freaking out. “Let’s go up there together. I’ll show you there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He hoped.

  Home Base

  Sam came up behind Ali and put his arms around her where she stood gazing out over the golden horizon. Neither of them said a word since they had entered the library on the top floor, and in a small way, Sam was glad of that. Ali’s dark hair and the way her head fit snuggly just under his chin reminded him so much of Sarah, so, for a moment, he dared to close his eyes and imagine they were together again; imagined it was his wife’s back pressed to his chest, her solemn gaze drifting into another world, as if maybe he might find the right thing to say to make her stay. And yet it didn't soothe him. It didn’t feed his heart or make him feel whole.

  He felt better opening his eyes and angling his face around just enough to see Ali’s beautiful lips. Sam knew he could fall in love with this girl if she let him, and the fact that she had no desire to leave this town made it that much easier to allow his heart to open. But she swore the fire had been lit in this room, and he could smell smoke even if he hadn’t felt the hearth to see if it was hot, which meant something unexplainable was happening in this house, and he was afraid to get close to Ali in case she ended up… hurt.

  He kissed her cheek and held her just a little bit tighter, sinking into her touch when she curled her fingers over his forearms. Ever since that night when she had lain against his chest on the sofa, neither had worked up the courage to openly touch the other, afraid of rejection. The fact that Ali didn’t flinch when he kissed her cheek—that she instead leaned back slightly as if to press every inch of herself against him—gave Sam hope. Turned him on. Made him want her in a way he hadn't let himself before now.

  “Hey,” he whispered in her ear. “You wanna get out of here for a while?”

  “Out of this room or out of this haunted house?”

  “The house, preferably.”

  “Where should we go?”

  “I wanna show you something.”

  “Show me what?” Ali turned in his arms carefully, so as not to make him lower them away from her.

  “A place I’ve never shown a soul,” he said, expecting her to smile. But she frowned instead. “What’s wrong?”

  “Was that there before?” Ali nodded to something behind him.

  Sam turned around and his heart sunk, every cell in his body retreating to the darkest corners of his past. “Uh, yeah,” he said casually, but he knew, and Ali knew, that the yellow envelope had not been there when they entered the room. He wasn’t willing to admit how it might have gotten there and he certainly wasn't ready to tell Ali what was in that envelope.

  Sam backed away and scooped it up, placing it back on the shelf where it had been for the last fifteen years. “So,” he continued without missing a beat, “shall we go for a drive?”

  Ali couldn’t ignore the truth after that—seeing a shadow, hearing footsteps in an otherwise empty house, even swearing on the Bible that the fire was lit—that could all be explained away. But Sam’s reaction to an envelope that had not been there before was unusual.

  As they packed a picnic and gathered a rug and their coats, she didn't have much to say, all her attention set squarely on what the contents of that envelope might be.

  The drive out to Sam’s secret place took them through winding roads, closed in overhead by long branches boasting colorful leaves. It was like driving through an orange tunnel, but the silence in the car ruined the magic a little. Even Sam picked up on it, and for what he hoped might happen when they arrived at this secret spot, he needed Ali to come back to him—to snap out of this mood she’d been in since the envelope.

  “I will show you,” he said. “I promise.”

  “Show me what?”

  “What’s in the envelope.”

  Ali sat up a bit in her chair. “What makes you think—”

  “Ali, I wasn't born yesterday, okay? And I’m sorry. I didn’t want to admit that I hadn't seen it there on the floor before, because it’s not natural,” he said, lifting his hand off the steering wheel to firmly place it back down again. “Things don't just go moving from one place to another. I don't like it. I don't want to acknowledge it. I just want to pretend it never happened, okay? But if you want to know what’s in that envelope, I’ll show you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have a feeling someone wants you to know.”

  “Who?”

  Sam didn't say anything. His fingers tightened on the wheel and he readjusted his seat. Having Sane Sam, Normal, Steady, Unfazed Sam acknowledge that the envelope had found its own way to the floor made Ali feel unsteady, like she’d stepped onto the set of some horror film.

  Isn’t this how it started? she mused. Wouldn't cupboard doors start flying open soon and then creepy hands would rip them out of bed in the middle of the night?

  A big part of Ali just wanted to pack her bags and leave, but the writer, and the woman falling in love with Sam, insisted on staying and even went as far as to rationalize all the craziness away.

  By the time they arrived at their destination, deep in the winding hills in the middle of nowhere, both Ali and Sam had lightened up a little, while the sky had darkened.

  “Where are we?” she asked, letting Sam place a coat around her shoulders as she hopped out of the truck, stiff and groggy from the drive.

  “You’ll see.”

  “See what?” She followed him around to the front of the truck, which sat with its wheels near the edge of a cliff, overlooking a waterfall on the other side. Her eyes went up and to the evening sky beyond, the entire rock wall across from them surrounded by dense leafy trees. “Sam? See what?” she repeated. “It’s going to be dark in ten minutes.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re waiting for.” He winked at her and laid the picnic rug out over the hood of his truck, putting the basket up next and then offering his hand to Ali.

  “Why are we sitting on the front of the truck?” she asked. “Don’t people usually sit in the bed?”

  “Yes, but you’ll see why in a minute,” he said, winking at her. “Now get up there.”

  Ali hauled herself up onto the picnic spot, and as Sam climbed up too, she got an odd vibe from him that left her wondering if he’d perhaps brought her all the way out here to make love—away from the ghost. If that was so, it would've been much more convenient if he’d said something, because she would have worn a skirt instead of jeans and knee-high boots.

  “Wine?” Sam offered her a glass.

  Thinking back on the unnerving experience in the turret today, she took it without hesitation, drinking down half a glass before tipping the rim toward Sam to get another.

  He laughed, pouring a generous serve, and then poured one for himself. They sat silently for a moment, taking in the scene, and Ali supposed Sam might have brought her out here for the view. Now that she had settled into her spot, spine against the windo
w pane, legs outstretched, she could fully appreciate the sheer height of the falls and the serenity of nature. No cars. Except for the one they were sitting on. No people. No noise other than the rushing water and a few birds settling in for the night.

  “This is perfect, Sam. How did you find this place?”

  “I, uh…” He laughed. “When I first moved here, I took a position as a park ranger, so it was kind of my job to know all the good spots.”

  “Wow.” Ali sipped her wine to hide her smirk. “A ranger, huh?”

  “It paid the bills.”

  “So how did you end up opening a bookstore?”

  “Well, when my great-grandfather died about a year after I came here to live with him, he left it to me. So I abandoned my job as a ranger and went to run the shop. But then,” he said, turning to face her, propping one leg up to rest his elbow on, “when the e-book revolution began in its early days, book sales started to drop, getting worse every year, so I opened a cafe on the bookshop. And the rest is history.”

  “Clever,” Ali said with a nod.

  “Yeah. I thought so too. So did the townsfolk.” He reached into the picnic basket and pulled out the sandwiches. “Hungry?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Cold?”

  “I’m fine.” Ali shrugged, noticing the subtle change in the air as the sun took the last of the light from the sky. Though she couldn't be sure exactly why Sam brought her out here, the woman inside of her understood what was possible with a man and a woman and a picnic blanket in the middle of nowhere. She wanted it, but wasn’t sure how to make it known.

  “So… are you ready then?” Sam said, rubbing his hands together, an eager grin warming his entire face.

  “Ready for what?”

  “To see why I brought you out here.”

  “Um, sure.” She put her glass down in the basket and sat up a little, crossing her legs like a school kid on a story mat.

  Sam jumped down off the hood and Ali thought he was coming around to fetch her, but he went past and opened the car door. The part of her that once thought he killed his wife worried for a moment that he was going to start the engine and drive her off the cliff, but instead he turned the key and the headlights came on.

  “Look,” Sam said, flipping his chin.

  Ali’s eyes took a moment to adjust from the dark to the yellow beams of light shooting out onto the falls, but when they finally focused on the water, a breath escaped her. Beneath the yellow glow, hundreds, if not thousands, of tiny little bugs glistened, like dancing stars.

  Her hand came slowly up to cover her mouth. “How is that possible?”

  “Magical, isn't it?” Sam said, standing beside her with his elbow on the hood.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it. Are they fireflies?”

  “Nope. Just regular old bugs,” he offered. “But when you put light on them, they sparkle. It’s got to do with something in the water.”

  With the rushing falls as their backdrop, each tiny glowing bug seemed to hover in a space that time could not touch, where all the wishes in the world gathered, collecting energy until they could manifest into reality. Ali wanted to reach out and touch them, but she knew they were fickle and would dart away if she didn't first fall to her death over the cliff drop.

  “Come on.” Sam took her hand and helped her down from the hood, showing her instead to the bed at the back of the truck. She laughed as they climbed up, feeling silly when Sam squatted down to turn on the portable stereo he had there.

  “Wow. This is so corny,” she said, but secretly loved it.

  “Would you like to dance?” Sam offered, straightening up to his full height in front of her.

  Ali was putty in his hands. All she could do was nod, and hope that at some point in this perfect evening she might convince him to go further than just dancing. Five months without sex, and almost two months living with Sam, sleeping in a room that connected to his by nothing but a fireplace, and Ali just couldn’t keep the idea of his naked skin against hers out of her mind. If she ducked her head at night while he was sleeping, she could see him in his bed as the flames died to embers. He slept shirtless most of the time, and even though he wasn’t muscled like the guys on the front cover of the novels she liked, he was real and solid and manly, and she wanted him. All of him.

  With her chest pressed to his, hand in hand, she tried to imagine what he’d feel like naked. Tried to feel the warmth of his skin through his clothes. There was nothing in this world quite like the feeling of a strong, warm man beneath a woman’s breasts, and though neither of them wanted to admit it, they were both lost in the same dream.

  The trees above them and the rocky cliffs on all three sides made the night darker than it might be closer to town, and with the twinkling lights of little wishes just a few feet away, Ali let the magic take hold of her actions, safe here in the hope that it couldn't possibly destroy their friendship if he rejected her.

  Sam took a deeper breath when her hand slipped from his and ran smoothly up his shirt and around to his shoulder blades. She was freezing cold but he welcomed her touch like air in a stale room.

  Ali couldn’t believe how soft his skin felt for a man, and how warm and firm he was under her icy hands. He didn’t push her away and didn't even shrink from the cold. Instead, he lowered his hands around her waist and drew her just a little bit closer, kissing the top of her head.

  “Are you ready for that?” he whispered, as if he were afraid to disturb the moment.

  “Too ready.”

  Sam wanted to kick himself. It’d been so long since he’d done this that he drove all the way out here—with the intention of making love to her—and yet he didn't bring the one thing a man needed to do that. “Damn.”

  “What’s damn?” Ali said.

  “I don’t have protection with me,” he hummed, his voice so deep and husky she wasn't sure she cared. “But I can’t get you pregnant, and I don’t have any diseases.”

  “Me neither,” she said, knowing that for sure, since she got tested after her ex cheated on her. “But why can’t you get me pregnant?”

  Sam shook his head to say it wasn't a conversation to have now. Ali nodded to accept, and with a subtle step, Ali parted her feet and let Sam move between them, sitting her back on the roof of the cab. But his height restricted any real action in this position—Ali’s hips meeting his thighs instead—and they both understood at the same time that it couldn't possibly work this way.

  Cupping her face sweetly in his cold hands, Sam drew her to her feet again. She could taste his breath on the tip of her tongue, bitter with the remains of fruity wine. When their lips finally touched, the wine ignited the kiss for a split second before it faded, leaving nothing but the taste of each other. He’d forgotten that every girl had her own taste and smell, and he’d wondered about Ali’s lips many times, imagined her so many nights as she lay sleeping in the room beside him that, in that moment, he understood himself to have a very precise imagination.

  That kiss, that deep longing he’d had for love, for touch, seemed to accumulate around the need he’d felt to be close to her, shaping the simplest want of a man into unbearable physical torment.

  Sam lay her down gently on the rippled surface of the truck bed, wishing he’d laid the blanket back here but not willing to break the moment to get it, and let his body feel the softness of her underneath him—the way she melted to his palm and welcomed his hips with open legs. The sun could have risen as he unzipped her jeans and neither of them would have noticed.

  Ali held her breath as he slipped his hand down to her warmest, most private place, wishing he’d just tear off all of her clothes. Things had moved so slowly between them that the pressure, the desire was too much for her now.

  She grabbed his shoulders and he followed her cues, rolling onto his back as she came up to part her legs over his hips.

  “What are you doing?” He laughed.

  “Taking this at my own pace,” she said, unb
uttoning his jeans.

  * * *

  After so long without sex and then a very short and passionate first round, followed by a longer and more pleasurable one, Ali was a little sore. While Sam was soaring. He smiled the entire drive through the dangerously dark forest, still smiling as they came back into civilization. He kept glancing across at Ali to see how she was, but he couldn't read her.

  “Are you afraid to go home?” he said.

  Ali didn’t answer right away, each millisecond of silence terrifying Sam.

  “Why would I be?” she said softly.

  “Because of… of what happened there today.”

  She smiled, shaking her head. “I think I let my imagination run away with me, Sam. That’s… none of that was possible, and I seem to remember a time when I was a child where I was convinced we had a ghost, which turned out to be mice. I’m not going to let my imagination scare me away this time.”

  Sam laughed, glad of that, but also a little worried. He knew nothing about ghosts except that it was better to ignore anything you thought might be paranormal activity. Talking to it, acknowledging it, looking at it or for it, had only ever made matters worse for him. He knew Ali was taking the right approach, but it still worried him. What if the ghost was Sarah? What if she was jealous of Ali?

  “What are you doing?” he asked when she leaned forward to open the glove compartment.

  “We need a different CD.”

  “What’s wrong with this one?”

  Ali raised a brow at the driver’s choice. The words “in my car” and “my baby behind the wheel” really should have spelled it out, and the fact that it didn't probably meant she had poor taste in men. Or at least that she liked men that had poor taste in music.

  “I really should have checked out your CD collection before sleeping with you,” she said.