Chapter 27

My mother used to tell me I was a glutton for punishment.

You're too much like your father, Christine. Too headstrong for your own good. One of these days, that stubbornness of yours is going to get you into trouble.

I hadn't heeded her then, and I was doing a poor job of listening to her wisdom now. Every ounce of common sense I had was screaming at me to go back inside and apologize to Erik. But, as it had done so many times in the past, my reckless and willful side shoved common sense right out the damn window.

Fuming, I stomped down the stone steps and trudged through the snow to my Jeep and wrenched the door open. Throwing my phone onto the passenger seat, I climbed inside and stabbed the key into the ignition and gave it a violent twist until the engine turned over. After waiting for the windshield wipers to clear the frost off the windshield and rear window, I jammed the gear shifter into reverse and rotated around to watch behind me as I backed up. I got halfway down the driveway before I slammed on the brakes. The SUV skidded to a stop, sliding slideways on the ice that had formed on my driveway when the temperatures had dropped below freezing, and finally came to a halt halfway onto the snow-covered lawn.

What the hell was I doing? I couldn't drive! I'd been drinking!

I shoved the car into park and petulantly crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't want to go back inside yet, and the driveway was still too close to Erik for comfort right now. I needed to get away, to put more distance between us. But how? And where?

I ran my fingers through my short hair and let out an aggravated sigh.

I guess I could call Jake and ask him to pick me up, but he'd want to know why I so upset and then he'd want to talk about it and try to find a resolution and I couldn't exactly tell him I'd crossed the line and started a fight with my resident ghost. So that idea was out. And Maddie and Rochelle were just as drunk as I was. Even if they managed to get a cab to take them back here, I'd still be in the same boat of having to explain why I was so angry when I'd been fine an hour ago.

I punched the steering wheel. God damn it.

As I sourly stared out the driver's side window, I was suddenly overcome with a crushing feeling of homesickness. I missed my mom. She always had a way of calming me down, no matter how hot and out of control my temper got. She would have known what to do. After a few minutes of quiet deliberation, I sighed and gathered my phone and keys. I opened the door of the Jeep and got out, pausing to lock it behind me, then started down the driveway with renewed purpose. The cemetery wasn't too far from here. Well within walking distance. She wouldn't be able to answer back, but I could still talk to her and sort out my feelings.

The fog that had begun to creep in earlier that evening was even thicker now. It insulated my footsteps and deadened all the sound around me. The streetlights above me struggled to cut through the thick haze, reducing the visibility to just a few feet in front of me. Icy crystals clung to the bare tree branches, glittering like millions of tiny diamonds in the weak, pale-yellow light.

Soon the heavy wrought iron gates of the city's one and only cemetery appeared before me. The metal hinges groaned loudly when I pushed my way through, as if to protest me daring to disturb their slumber and intrude upon the peaceful rest of all who now dwelled within its stone walls.

I quietly wound my way through the rows of graves until I found the two that belonged to George and Diane Davies. My parents. Kneeling, I reverently brushed the snow that had collected on the tops of their granite headstones. Then I bowed my head and finally allowed myself to cry. My sorrowful sobs fractured the quiet serenity around me and seemed to echo loudly against the heavy clouds of mist.

"What have I done?" I wailed. "Oh, God, what have I done? I was just trying to be supportive. And now I've ruined everything! He doesn't want anything to do with me. Mom…what do I do? How do I fix this? He's never going to trust me again."

My heart felt like a chunk of lead in the bottom of my chest. I wouldn't blame Erik if he never wanted to see or speak to me again. I deserved it after the way I treated him.

"You would be so ashamed of me," I whispered, angrily swiping the tears from my cheeks. "The things I said to him…. Terrible things. I was just so…so hurt…that he didn't trust me enough to show me that I didn't even stop to consider his feelings in all of this."

I rocked back on my heels.

"I've got to stop this. I've got to stop thinking that I can have any sort of relationship with him. I'm just going to get my feelings hurt when he doesn't reciprocate how I feel." I let out a brittle laugh. "I mean, who falls in love with a ghost, anyway? Am I crazy, Mom? I'm crazy, right? I know what you'd say. I always fall in love with the wrong men and then hold on way too tightly to something that should never have been in the first place. I did it with Ben and now I'm doing it with Erik. Am I doomed to spend the rest of my life alone, always wanting what I can't have?

"I wish I could really talk to you. Why is it that I can see Erik but no one else? It doesn't make sense. If I can see ghosts, then why can't I see all the ghosts? Why's he so special and you're not?"

I didn't have the answer to all those questions, and unfortunately, neither did my mom.

The silence droned on. Eventually I became aware of the wet snow beneath my knees and how it was steadily seeping into my jeans. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, I was suddenly very conscious of how cold it was out here, and I kicked myself for not bothering to grab a coat when I left the house. All I had to protect me from the sub-zero temperatures was the thin long-sleeve shirt I'd put on to work in the kitchen. And yet, even though I was freezing my ass off, I still didn't want to go back home and face up to all the nasty things I'd said to Erik. At this point I'd rather freeze to death.

Several more minutes passed by as I sat there, quietly feeling sorry for myself, until I was shivering so hard that I could barely move. I knew that I needed to get up and start walking home, and fast, or I would face the very real possibility of developing hypothermia. Dramatic though I was, dying from stubbornness on my parents' graves was just a touch too over the top, even for me.

Something moved behind me, a shadow in the mist. A cat, maybe? Someone else crazy enough to brave the weather to visit a loved one? It didn't matter. My fight-or-flight instincts kicked into overdrive, and I scrambled to my feet just in time to see Erik materialize out of the haze. The fog swirled around him, clinging to his ebony cloak and mask. His orange-yellow eyes shone brightly against the blackness, burning like the embers of a dying fire on a dark winter's night. How was it possible for him to look so dangerous and so incredibly sexy at the same time?

We stared at each other, neither one of using wanting to be the first to say anything. And the longer we stared, caught in a silent stalemate, the more I began to shiver from the cold.

"You're freezing," Erik stated flatly.

"I'm f-fine," I retorted defiantly.

"Nonsense."

With the flick of his wrist, he unclasped the front of his cloak and whisked it off with a flourish. The material spread outward in a fan, chasing away some of the gloomy fog that surrounded us. He gently draped it over my shoulders and pulled the ends towards him, fully enveloping me in its warmth. Stunned, I fingered the smooth fabric wonderingly, amazed not only at the kindness of his gesture, but at the fact that I was wearing something that belonged to a ghost and that it felt as real as any of the rest of my clothing. I closed my eyes, breathing in his delightfully earthy scent, and snuggled deeper into it.

"It was foolish of you to leave with a coat," he admonished as he continued to fidget with the edges, trying to make certain that his cloak was completely closed and wouldn't let in any of the cold air. "I've been worried about you."

"I'm sorry," I whispered tremulously. "I'm so sorry." And then I began to cry all over again.

His hands moved to cup my shoulders and he held me at arm's length as my body shook from the intensity of my sobs.

"I had no right…no right to be angry at you," I wept. "It was your choice, and I should've respected that. I took your refusal personally because I got it in my head that you owed it to me. I should never have said those things. I didn't mean them."

"Oh, Christine," he sighed. He took my right hand and sandwiched it in between his own. "I'm at fault, too. I can be so damned hot-headed sometimes. I'm quick to anger and commonly look for insults and ulterior motives, even when someone is trying to be sincere. I was caught off guard by your request, and truthfully, it terrified me."

"Why?"

"My face isn't for the faint of heart, Christine. Everyone who has seen it has reacted with horror and revulsion. It has poisoned every interaction. I can't let it do that to you. I won't let it ruin what we have together." He pulled my hand to his chest and placed it over his heart, securing it tightly with his free hand. "Please. Please don't ask me to do that."

"I won't," I vowed, squeezing my fingers against his chest to emphasize my promise. Erik tightened his grip on my hand in response and I shuddered from the contact and the weight of his words.

"We need to get you home before you freeze to death," he said, misinterpreting my reaction to his touch.

I withdrew my hand and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I need to get moving. The walk back should warm me up a bit."

"No."

"No?"

"You are in no condition to look out for yourself in your current state, and I cannot adequately protect you from the elements or anyone who might accost you on the way home."

"No one is going to 'accost' me on the way home," I laughed. "No one but me is stupid enough to even be out here. And the cold has sobered me up enough that I am in complete control of my faculties. I'll be fine."

"Don't argue with me. Do you have that device that allows you to talk to other people?"

"My phone? Yeah. Why?"

"Call your suitor."

"My what?" I blinked in surprise.

"The man who came over the other day. Call on him and ask him to escort you back to your house."

"You want me to call Jake?" A sharp sting of disappointment knifed through me. So, he knew about Jake's feelings for me after all. And, judging by his suggestion, he was completely okay with it. Which meant that he truly only cared for me as a friend and that I'd been misreading all the signals he'd been giving me, making more out of them then there was.

I shouldn't have been surprised, but it stung, nonetheless.

With a defeated sigh, I pulled out my phone out of my back pocket and dialed Jake's number. He answered on the second ring.

"Hello, beautiful. I was just thinking about you."

I twisted away from Erik, as if doing so would make it harder for him to hear and give me more privacy. "Hi. I need a favor."

"Sure. Anything."

"Can you come pick me up? I need a ride home."

"Of course," he replied. "Where are you?"

"The cemetery. I'll explain later," I said, cutting off any questions he was bound to have.

"Okay. I'll be there in a minute."

"Great. Thanks. I'll meet you by the front gate."

I hung up with him and angled back to shoot Erik a peevish look. "There. He's on his way. Are you happy?"

"Yes. Shall we?"

He swept his arm in the direction of the entrance and waited for me to start walking. Once I did, he fell in line behind me, reaching out every so often to grab my elbow as I tried to work my way around the headstones and the windblown snowdrifts.

When we reached the gate, we both stopped and turned to face each other awkwardly. Wrapping his cloak even tighter around me, I shifted my gaze to my feet and tried to come up with a reasonable-sounding excuse to explain to Jake about why I was in the cemetery in the middle of the night in what was possibly the worst fog we'd had in years.

A few minutes later, a pair of yellow beams of light carved their way through the murkiness, followed by Jake's black BMW.

"That's him," I told Erik and reluctantly handed him back his cloak.

He nodded and took it from me, draping it over his forearm.

Jake pulled up to the curb, the headlights washing over us, and when I glanced back at Erik, he was gone.

Strange, but even with Jake right there, I had never felt so alone.

Jake got out of his car and slammed the door. "Good hell, Christine! What are you doing out here? And without a coat! What in God's name were you thinking?" He shrugged out of his dark gray puffer coat and flung it around my shoulders. "Here, put this on."

While I stuck my arms through his coat, he guided me to the passenger side of his car and opened the door for me. I climbed in and sat down, silently comparing the fresh evergreen scent of his coat to the muted scent of spices on Erik's cloak.

The driver's side door opened, and Jake slid into his seat, shutting it behind him. The cold leather groaned slightly as he twisted to face me. "Do you want to tell me what possessed you to come out here, when you were clearly not prepared for it?"

"I get really melancholy around the holidays." It wasn't exactly a lie. "I'm still getting used to the idea of being alone since my parents died and Ben and I divorced. They used to be filled with all sorts of wonderful family gatherings and activities. Now I have nothing. I had a little too much to drink tonight and I guess I thought it was a good idea to come out here and visit my parents. I couldn't drive, so…." I left the rest of the sentence unsaid, the result obviously speaking for itself.

He let out an aggravated sigh and turned back to grip the steering wheel. "You should've called me. I would've come over."

"I know. I'm sorry."

He put the car in reverse and backed out, and we drove back to my house in relative silence, with only the radio to break up the monotony. Ten minutes later he pulled into my driveway and pegged me with a disapproving scowl when he saw that the rear-end of my Jeep was parked halfway on the lawn next to the pavement.

"I'll fix it tomorrow," was all I said.

He shook his head but didn't say anything. Turning off the ignition, he got out and walked around the front of the car, pausing to look at my handiwork, before he opened my door and waited for me to get out.

"Thanks."

I started up the driveway and climbed the stairs to the porch with leaden steps. Jake took his key remote and pressed the button to lock his car. It beeped and the amber signal lights flashed once. I glanced back at him questioningly.

"At least let me see you inside and help you get situated."

I nodded. I didn't have the strength to argue. It had been a long night, and the events of the past few hours and the cold had drained all my energy.

Inserting the key into deadbolt, I unlocked the door and pushed it open, motioning for him to follow me inside. He waited as I emptied my pockets, placing my keys and phone back on the end table, and then slipped his coat off. He took it from me automatically and tossed it on the table next to my keys and pointed to the couch.

"Sit."

I did as I was told, watching sullenly as he flittered about the living room. He plucked my quilt off the top of the cedar chest and hurried back to me.

"You don't need to fuss over me," I said muttered. "I'm fine."

What I really wanted was to be alone and have a chance to mull over my thoughts.

"It's no bother," he replied. He unfolded the quilt and settled it over me. "Really. Now, which way to the kitchen?"

I made a feeble gesture and he disappeared. Craning my neck over the back of the couch, I angled my head to listen and tried to figure out what he was doing in there.

"You've got quite a mess going on in here!" he shouted. I heard the faucet turn on and the metallic sound of water hitting the bottom of my tea kettle.

"Yeah," I yelled back. "I'm in the middle of a kitchen remodel. Sorry for all the clutter."

"Hey, at least having no cabinet doors on your cupboards makes it easy to find things," he chuckled. "How do you take your tea?"

I frowned, instantly thinking back to the night that Erik had made me tea. It felt wrong, somehow, to have Jake doing the same thing.

Don't be ridiculous! I chastised myself. It's not as if Erik owns the action. It was one time, and it didn't even mean anything.

It didn't mean anything. Erik had proven tonight that his feelings for me were strictly platonic. That was a good thing. It meant that I could stop second-guessing everything he said and did.

It was freeing, actually, I decided. I wouldn't have to be weighed down by the futility of trying to figure out how to make a relationship with a ghost work and wrestling with the fear that I was crazy for having allowed myself to fall in love with someone who—quite literally—couldn't love me back.

It also meant that I could stop feeling guilty about liking Jake. I was free to pursue a relationship with him without worrying that I was destroying my chances with Erik.

"Two sugars," I told him.

"Two sugars…," Jake repeated. He rummaged around the kitchen until he found my sugar bowl, just as the kettle began to whistle. "Ah!"

Presently, I heard the sound of him stirring the sugar spoon into the cup and a few seconds later he reappeared, holding two steaming mugs of tea in his hands. Handing me one, he sat down on the couch next to me.

"Thank you."

"Certainly." He waited for me to take a few sips, and then asked, "Feeling better?"

"A bit."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

There it was. I knew he couldn't resist the chance to play the hero and fix the situation.

That's not fair. He's just trying to be supportive and show you he cares about you.

"No," I replied at length. "I just want to sit here and be with you, if that's okay."

"Of course, it is. Come here."

He curled his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side, planting a gentle kiss on the top of my head. I nestled against his chest with a sigh and reveled in the feeling of physical contact. There was no doubt about how Jake felt about me. No will he-won't he or is he in love with someone else questions racing through my head every time we were together. I knew exactly where I stood.

I was determined to allow myself to enjoy it. I figured I deserved a little happiness.

XXX

I watched, unseen, from the shadows as Christine drifted to sleep in the arms of her lover. Unaware of my silent intrusion, the boy readjusted the quilt he'd draped on top of her and pulled her closer so that he could rest his cheek against the top of her head. She sighed with contentment and tightened the arm she had wrapped around his waist.

Oh, Christine! If the world was fair, it would have been my chest you fell asleep on. My arms that cradled you and held you tight.

But the world wasn't fair, and no amount of hoping or pining would bring me back to life. Even if by some miracle she were to reciprocate my feelings, I could never be a real-life husband to her, standing proudly at her side, meeting her friends, growing old together.

It was better this way, I told myself, over and over again until I began to believe it. It was better this way.