A Ghost of a Chance (10 page)

His blue eyes sparkled in obvious admiration of her spirit. “I am glad you have a strong will Gabriella. You will need it to break free of the monster that has you in his grip.”

“
Samory is not a monster. Stop calling him that.”

He came closer to her, taking her small white hands once again in his powerful ones. “His deeds have been monstrous Gabriella.”

She looked down, unable to face the intensity of his gaze. “He has done what he must to survive.”

He grasped her chin forcing her to look at him. “Then, if he is powerless to stop himself, we must stop him ourselves.”

Her eyes widened with fear, “What do you mean sir?”

There was cold determination in his handsome face now. “He must be destroyed Gabriella.”

“
No!”

“
For his own good, but more so for yours. I am determined he will not have you. Even at a cost to myself. He will never have you.”

And then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with a savage tenderness that forced all other thoughts to blur away in the midst of their mutual passion.

Hallie grimaced, maybe not. Maybe this kiss came too soon. And what would her Sebastian Winter books be with no Samory? But she had to protect Jacob Mcfarin somehow. Why exactly that was she wasn’t sure, only that she liked him too much. She didn’t want to let him go. Samory wouldn’t have him.

But how could she have them both?

She sighed deeply. This was so depressing. She really had to get a life.

Her head throbbed. She closed out the file and began the process of shutting down the computer for the night. She’d figure this out later. She wondered whom her Great Aunt Marie would have chosen. And then she smiled; Aunt Marie would have taken Mcfarin in a heartbeat. She liked her heroes strong, determined, and not shadowed. But Hallie was different. Always it seemed she had been drawn to the complexities, the shadowed mysteries, the comfort of illusion. At least that was how she used to feel.

Now it almost seemed as though something was changing, shifting inside her, and she had no earthly idea why.

Jack sat beside her watching her silently, plotting, wondering how it all would end – knowing that he too was pledged to save Hallie, even at great cost to himself.

It was nearly nine’ o’clock. Jack was playing around at her feet as she sluggishly sipped her second cup of coffee. Every now and then she absently nudged him away as his sharp little teeth began to sink through her slippers, and she began to dimly notice their contact with her flesh. He was in that teething mode like babies go through, or so she was told. She had resigned herself long ago to the fact that there wouldn’t be any children in her life. There had almost been a baby with Edward, but she’d miscarried early on, which, probably, had been for the best. Otherwise, Edward would have told her what to do and how to raise their child for the rest of her life. And well for the child, needless to say, it would have been a poor environment for a child.

Yes, this slow morning seemed to be flooded with dalliances of “what-might-have-beens,” and her incessant reweaving of the worn-out threads of regret. What would it have been like to have a child with another man? One who wasn’t so intensely dissatisfied with her – one like, and then she stopped herself. She looked down at the small puppy playing beneath her kitchen table.

It was the dream; it bothered her. That was part of the reason that she was so tired this morning. The dream or remembering it had kept waking her up during the night. It was really one of those stupid ones like when you’re in a swimming pool and suddenly realize that you forgot to put on your swimsuit. And of course, there is no way to sneak off without everyone seeing you. It was one of those silly kinds of dreams completely not grounded in reality, except for one part. There was a man there. The rest of the dream had blurred into obscurity in the light of day. All except for him, this presence she had felt.

She closed her eyes and the vision of his smiling face rose up before her. He was a nice-looking man, not remarkably handsome like the stuff of fiction but short brown hair, a nice, wry sort of smile, and warm blue eyes that somehow beckoned her in the memory.

It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t get him out of her mind – the touch of his lips, the comforting but thrilling sensation when he had kissed her. She rubbed her eyes. Damn, why couldn’t he be real? She smiled glumly down at the dog. And his name was Jack; she remembered that his name was Jack.

She scratched her little furry Jack behind the ears, and he growled in appreciation. The dream Jack and she could have made nice children together, nice, laughing, unpretentious children. But he was just a dream and all this was, well extraordinarily depressing.

The phone started ringing, and she made her way without interest over to the kitchen counter to pick it up.

“
Hello.”

“
You sound like hell.”

“
Oh thanks Monica. Good morning to you too.”

“
Did you have a late night last night?”

“
No, not really. I just didn’t sleep very well.”

“
Were you alone?”

“
What?”

“
I spoke to Greg.”

“
Oh I see,” putting the pieces together. She groaned inwardly. Good lord, she wasn’t in the mood to deal with this.

“
So, you’re seeing someone. Greg says some guy who’s in shipping or something. Don’t you think you should have told me this?”

“
No, not really,” she yawned unintentionally.

“
Look, I go to all this trouble to set you up with Greg and. . .” Her pitch was getting strident and nearly painful.

And then a thought popped into the building chaos.

“
Monica, do you know someone named Jack?”

Silence, “You mean other than your dog?”

“
Yes, a man, a person, maybe someone you work with.”

“
Well um. There’s a Joseph something down in accounting.”

“
No, no, it has to be Jack.”

Another silence and then dripping with suspicion,

“
What’s this about Hallie?”

“
I’m just trying to find someone.”

“
What about the shipping guy?”

“
Oh yeah, well.” What about the shipping guy? Whoever the hell he might be. “That’s an on again off again thing.” Didn’t she sound shallow and highly in demand?

Steely and calmly, “Well, then Greg.”

“
Nope, not Greg. Absolutely not.”

“
He likes you.”

She was getting nowhere – time to close this down. “Look I need to go. We can talk later, all right?”

“
What’s going on with you Hallie? You’re really beginning to worry me.” Actually she sounded more perturbed than worried.

“
I’m fine. I’ve just got to figure out some things.”

Hallie was stretched out on her bed working on a letter. Jack was lying beside her contentedly breathing in the smell of her hair. She washed it with some vanilla scented shampoo, and he loved it. Why? Probably, just because she used it. He loved being close to her, watching her expression. Maybe it wasn’t particularly productive, but he was peaceful doing it.

She was scribbling on a yellow notebook. She should be working on the book. Her editor had called that morning not long after Monica wondering when he could expect her first few chapters. In a few days, she’d told him. It was feasible but she was so unsettled about the course of the book, about so many things. So, she decided indulgently to pour out her anxiety-ridden heart to her newfound, invisible friend.

Dear Jack,

(It began)

He leaned over and indulgently kissed her softly on

the cheek.

I know this is sudden, but I really need a friend right now. And since you’re not really here to tell me that I’m wrong about everything you’re the perfect candidate.

He smiled, a silent confidant, that didn’t sound so bad.

I’ve always been accused of being impractical. That was my ex-husband Edward’s daily litany. “You are foolish and impractical Hallie.” I’ve often wondered why he married me at all; he seemed so absolutely dissatisfied with me all the time. Monica said it was because he felt he could mold me into what he wanted. Isn’t that funny? I mean why didn’t he just marry a lump of clay?

He frowned. He couldn’t for the life of him understand how any man could see Hallie for anything but the sparkling bright, dazzling person that he saw now. He would give just about anything to spend five real minutes talking with her, laughing with her, just being with her. He slumped back on the bed. He was depressing himself.

Anyway, it was tough, real tough, for me to admit that all my years with Edward were a wash. And shamefully, I will admit I tried to become what he thought I should be. It was the easiest way to keep peace but so exhausting. I was just so tired all the time. It plain wore me out. And I became something that I really hated. I was boring. Edward’s molded Hallie was boring, not someone I’d want to sit down and even have a cup of coffee with.

He couldn’t imagine having a cup of coffee with Edward except perhaps to throw it in his face.

And Jack, I made that mistake that I thought I never would. I thought for a while if there were just children then maybe it could work out. I’m ashamed of it, but I felt like such a failure. He told me what a failure and disappointment I was to him and I bought it. Thank God there weren’t children, but now there won’t ever be and.

She stopped. Why was she opening all this up? This was so pointless dredging up all the old pain, making it raw all over again.

Tears were running down her face. And it pained him terribly to see her so upset. How could he help? He’d never bothered to help anyone before. And now, how could he help anyone the way he was?

He was angry and overwhelmingly frustrated at the state of things. Then it clicked in, the one thing he did always have going for him – his unyielding determination.

Gently, but with purpose, he reached out and softly touched her cheek – touching her tears with his fingertips. He could actually feel their moistness on his skin. It was physical. And then for just a flicker of an instant, everything became different. It seemed for a moment that everything around them stopped. Hallie froze and then pulled back unexpectedly. Her face reflected genuine surprise, almost as though she had felt it too.

Her hand flew up to her face on the spot where he’d made contact. “What’s happening?” she whispered out loud. “What’s happening to me?”

“
What’s happening to me?” Gabriella peered with trepidation into the oval mirror atop the dark mahogany-wooden dresser that her father had ordered specially constructed for her by an artisan in Lyons.

The soft brown eyes staring back at her were troubled deeply. The presence of Jacob Mcfarin in her house tonight had shaken her more profoundly than even she had thought possible. Out of a semblance of decorum, she had slapped his face, but it was with a mixed and confused heart. And she felt in the core of her soul that he knew it as well.

She wrapped the light cotton robe covering her nightgown more tightly around her. The night was warm, even balmy, but her flesh was chilled, chilled by her wavering spirit. There could be no denying It now. She was beginning to doubt Samory.

Hallie hesitated. It was strange. Her fingers were actually trembling. She had no idea where this was going. Impatiently, she turned around half-expecting to see someone behind her bending over her shoulder, and she was surprised in some part that there was not. What on earth had gotten into her? She returned to the screen, consciously brushing away the doubts that were creeping inside her mind, the ones questioning her grip on reality.

Jack stood quietly beside her. She had looked right at him, directly at him and with expectation in her eyes and then disappointment. If only he could find some way, some stronger way, to breach the barrier between them. The fact that the barrier was life itself at this moment seemed only a minor complication.

Perhaps he was not the man that. . . that he had represented himself as. Perhaps Jacob was being honest. Perhaps, all that she had come to believe, to trust, was really a fabrication, a thin veil covering the truth.