A Ghost of a Chance (6 page)

Their portly Mexican waiter, still wearing an oversized green sombrero, approached the table; “Your food is on its way. Can I get anything else for you amigos?”

Hallie piped up cheerfully, “Yes, another Margarita.”

Monica added glumly, “How about another round for everyone?”

He watched and that depressed him. He missed the flesh – moving among people, smoking a cigarette, and having a drink. Putting his arms around a beautiful woman. And Hallie, his Hallie, she was hilarious tonight; Hallie was drunk, but she was dazzling. He actually felt a little sorry for the inept young man that Monica had chosen for her. He was obviously way over his head, trying to make some sort of connection with the moody and mysterious brunette. But she had shut him down immediately and for Jack that brought a further admiration for the woman who was increasingly becoming so pivotal in his transient existence.

Monica, of course, had chosen wrong. That in itself wasn’t a huge surprise. She hadn’t impressed him with any depth of perception. She wasn’t really capable of seeing the quick mind and soft beauty of Hallie Barkly that he had a growing appreciation for. It was too subtle for her kind and admittedly, not to his credit, he hadn’t seen it right away himself. He had once not so long ago spent the balance of his time mixing amongst that superficial breed. But not now, something integral had shifted in him or rather had been awakened. He felt that somehow he’d always been different, misplaced but just elected to ignore it.

But here, when it was really too late for him, he was beginning to want more.

Being around her, knowing who she was, and what he couldn’t have was quietly torturing him.

It hadn’t been a late evening. Monica’s date seemed intent on cutting things short. “You know you could have tried a little harder. Did you even let Greg kiss you goodnight?”

“
I was kind of waiting for him to grow hair on his face before we made out.”

“
He’s not that young,” she sniped back.

Hallie’s head was pounding. She buried it in a pillow on Monica’s couch. “Please he’s a schoolboy.”

“
All right, I admit it. I thought you might do better with someone who wouldn’t be in control of things. And it would have been all right, if you hadn’t drank so much.”

“
It was the only thing that kept me from bolting out the door.”

“
You know, I’m going to have to smooth all of this over with Richard.”

“
Richard is a prick,” she retorted with emphasis.

“
He is not. He just has high standards.”

“
And things would have gone so much better, if I had just written political thrillers.”

“
You know, I’m trying to help you, trying to keep you from burying yourself in that house.” Monica fired back. Jack marveled at their exchange, wondering what on earth tied this relationship together. It was so odd to sit back and watch the fireworks. Monica doggedly clung to her pose of being a caring friend, but it was completely superficial or confused at best.

He’d settled on the deep burgundy brocade couch in Monica’s Condo. Hallie had curled up on the other end, retreating into a pained, little lump.

“
Maybe I like being buried,” she groaned. “I certainly prefer it to evenings like this one.”

Monica flung her blonde head in exasperation. “Fine, I won’t make the mistake of trying to help you again.”

“
Is that a promise?” She grumpily retorted. It was the liquor that had loosened her tongue. He wondered if indeed their peculiar affinity would survive the aftermath of this brutal honesty, not really caring if it didn’t.

“
You know, if it were up to you Edward would be the last man you ever had anything to do with.”

“
Would that be such a tragedy?”

Monica just stood hovering near the couch, her brown eyes reflecting something else. Maybe she did care in her own bizarre fashion. “I don’t know Hallie. Is he the last man you ever want to love?”

“
I don’t want to love anyone tonight. I just want this night to end.” Her voice was muffled. She was talking straight into her pillow.

“
You know, you certainly get bitchy after you drink too much.”

“
As opposed to being that way all the time.”

“
I’ll ignore that. Do you want some sheets for the couch?”

“
No, just go away so my head will stop hurting?”

“
All right, we’ll talk about this in the morning.” She went off in a huff – the door to Monica’s bedroom closing in something between a shut and a slam. Whatever it was really hurt Hallie’s head. This was ridiculous. Weren’t hangovers supposed to occur the next morning? Maybe, she was just cursed.

She kicked off her black leather pumps and pulled the dark green throw from Monica’s couch up to her chin. She didn’t even have the energy to change out of the black halter dress that she’d chosen for the evening. Maybe if she’d worn the red, all would have been different. Maybe if she were different, all would be different. She thought about Jack and wondered if he was all right, if he had eaten all the food that she’d left out, if he was sleeping on her bed tonight.

Jack leaned over her and touched her hair as she fell asleep. It felt warm to his fingertips. As she drifted off to sleep she murmured something inaudible. He indulged himself and thought that in this between state she could feel him near her.

“
Goodnight Hallie. Sweet dreams.”

He smiled to himself. Perhaps it wasn’t right, but he was feeling very territorial with her. Admittedly, he’d been jealous and was well pleased with the night’s outcome. Except the part of her never loving another man. She had too much to give, that just couldn’t be right.

Gabriella was torn in her heart, caught between a place of darkness and light. She knelt upon one of the soft velvet pews of St. Michel’s Cathedral and prayed in reverence for the almighty to guide her out of her torment. Her spirit clung to what was good and right, but her heart was traitorous. It had been drawn into the twisted web of darkness that was Samory’s existence. Tears flooded from her soft brown eyes, her soul enmeshed torturously in the confusion and betrayal of her very essence. How could she truly love one such as he?

As she bent her head in heartfelt agony, behind her she heard the heavy drop of footsteps begin the long walk down the marble aisle at the heart of St. Michel’s. Unexpectedly startled, her heart clutched in surprise as the sound ceased abruptly just beside her. She lifted her tear filled eyes hesitantly only to see a stranger staring down at her.

Hallie paused for a moment, stuck. She was completely stalled. Really, it was kind of nuts adding another character in the mix just now. It certainly hadn’t been her original plan. Actually the idea had popped into her head on her drive home from Richmond and then increasingly had been nagging at her all day.

She had left Monica’s early, neither in the mood nor the proper physical state to entertain any rehashing of the night before. But she had inferred from her friend’s aloof behavior at their brief parting that Monica was none too eager to prolong her stay. She evidently had more serious concerns, namely smoothing the water with old carrot-top Richard. It was just as well. Hallie was out of sorts and suddenly preoccupied with a piece that she felt was missing from her book. There needed to be more struggle, sort of like. . .

“
A triangle, a love triangle.” Jack spoke it out loud for what felt like the thousandth time that day. It had occurred to him during the night that the easiest and best way to connect with Hallie was through her writing and what better way than to introduce himself as –

He was a tall man, a tall muscular man whose face was well tanned. It was evident even to Gabriella in her state of upset that he had spent much of his time outdoors amongst the elements. His hair was a light brown, nearly of a chestnut shade, as was the well-clipped beard on his face. But it was his eyes that were astonishing. They were not like the dark obsidian pools of Samory but rather a deep blue hue, clear and vibrant like the living ocean. She smiled involuntarily as something distant and almost unfamiliar coursed through her veins – the sudden, sweet, desperate rush of hope.

And then she stopped. Hallie’s hands froze, paralyzed over the keyboard. Something had gripped her, like a vise descending – a crushing sudden feeling of panic and confusion that was targeted around her heart area. She sat, breathing shallowly, feeling completely stunned. Jack felt it too. It was obvious that something was violently resisting this. He sensed the tangible blast of iciness directed toward Hallie. Scanning the room, he again could perceive nothing visual.

“
Where the hell are you, you coward?” He demanded angrily. But there was no response, only the persistant, relentless cold.

Then as though something was guiding him an idea crossed his mind. He tried to mentally picture Hallie surrounded by a blanket of warm air that would block the chill that had come into the room. He focused intensely with all his concentration on the image. Beside him he could hear her breathing deeply.

“
Okay, take it easy,” he whispered.

Several times her fingers reached out to touch the keyboard and then withdrew. He bent in close to her and spoke softly in her ear. “It’s all right. She looks into his deep blue eyes.”

She nodded, as if to reassure herself, and then started typing.

“
I’m sorry Sir. You look as though you recognize me from somewhere.”

He smiled in an enigmatic fashion that made Gabriella exceedingly uncomfortable. “I must admit that I have come a long way to find you Mademoiselle. You are undoubtedly Gabriella Martresse.”

She stood up, self-consciously straightening out her long, satiny skirt that had been crushed momentarily while she was kneeling. “I am sorry, sir. You have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.”

The stranger smiled widely with a curious glint in his eyes that almost made her blush under the scrutiny of his gaze. “Forgive me my lady, I am the captain of a seafaring vessel that has originated from the ports of the Americas. My name is Jacob, Jacob McFarin and, if I may speak bluntly, I am here to rescue you.”

The little black dog followed Hallie around the house in a state of what Jack could only perceive as bewilderment. She would move from one room to another with what seemed to be deliberate purpose and then leave off drifting away in thought, absently passing by the love-starved pup. Jack Jr. had several times wandered near him in a state of confusion. He didn’t understand as Jack did that his owner was preoccupied, caught in another world of her own making.

She had only written a brief introduction of Jacob Mcfarin’s character but even that seemed to bother her. At first, he thought perhaps it was the struggle that had taken place with the unknown entity, but the expressions reflecting on her face were not of upset or concern.

Once and awhile he could detect the slightest flicker of a smile. If she were another woman, he would have said she had just met someone new, someone who interested her – perhaps even attracted her.

When she finally settled in one spot for a while, she curled up on the recliner in the den holding a delicate heart-shaped necklace in her hand that she had picked up in the bedroom. It was one he hadn’t seen her with before. He stood across from her, silently focusing in on her eyes. They had a faraway look that leapt out at him. It was actually physically tormenting to him, at least as physical as he could be. Jack knew women, and he knew that Hallie was daydreaming. And if he didn’t miss the mark, she was daydreaming with interest about the seafarer Jacob Mcfarin. Damn the bastard. It was a hell of a position to be in to be jealous of your own self-created character. What was all of this? He wanted, well damn it, what he wanted right now wasn’t possible, but that certainly didn’t stop him from wanting it.

“
Well, Mr. Jacob Mcfarin I presume.”

Jack turned to the round face of Hallie’s great Aunt Marie, “Don’t rub it in.”

“
No, no, it seems like a good move to me my boy. You, well he, seems to have reached her in a fashion.”

He sighed deeply. “Yes, but what’s my next move?”

Hallie continued to hold the necklace in her hand, unconsciously fingering it absently almost as though she were meditating with rosary beads. “Where did the necklace come from?”

“
I gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday. She carries it around when she is particularly bothered about something. That’s why I’m here. I could feel her thinking about me.”

“
You can actually feel when someone thinks about you?”