Affairs of the Heart (7 page)

The wind howls
continuously around the cab of the tractor and bangs against the
doors. With each new gust, the trailer slides slightly, giving in
to the force. The blowing wind sings a wolf melody, the howling
tune mournful—a beautiful yet deadly blizzard accompanied by the
music of the wind—Mother Nature’s way of easing the cruelty she
sometimes gives so freely.

Snow like this can play
tricks on a man’s vision. Even knowing this, when I see a figure in
the middle of the road, reaction takes over reasoning. White and
flowing, it moves toward me, and then silver-blue eyes bore into my
soul, making me yearn for sweet oblivion. In that swift moment, I
swerve, my mind screaming out the name of the woman who left my
world three years before.

Sandi!

* * * *

Guardian Angel Third
Class Cynamon Bedford watches in horror from her snow-packed seat
perched near the gates of Heaven the crash the phantom causes. The
cherry-red semi-truck’s tires screech to grab solid ground. Metal
crashes and crunches as the truck slides on its side across the
road. The screeching tears at her heart; the driver, Lee Thomas,
has a slim chance of making it.

The crumpled mass of
cherry red, a deadly contrast to the snow, lays in an L shape down
the slope between the road and a line of trees. The cab faces the
way it has just come from, cheery Christmas music fading in and
out, a maudlin contrast. The windshield shattered, glass is
scattered across the snow drifts. Snow quickly blankets the
wreck.

There is nothing she can
do. Helpless, she sits and watches as another life slowly
disappears from Earth. “If only they understood how precious their
time is, maybe the mortals wouldn’t be so careless with the gift.”
One silvery tear makes a slow trek down her cheek as she feels the
dying man’s pain.

“
Come now,
Cyn, truly you can’t be shedding a tear for one mortal after all
these years of watching them.” Abraham, the Supervisory Angel
assigned to keep Cyn in check, chuckles as he
approaches.

“
The man was
only trying to get home to his family.” She swipes at the tear and
tucks her emotions away. “His motivations were pure. If it wasn’t
for the phantom coming at him, he’d still be making his way to the
next stop for the night.”

“
Phantom? One
of our own? Surely you don’t mean to suggest...” Abraham stammers
from somewhere above her. He’s been here longer than she has,
watching life come and go each moment of each day.

Sometimes, she wonders
whether he’s lost compassion for the mortal world and focus. He
hadn’t sensed the phantom. “I most certainly am!” Cyn draws back
her shoulders, ready to defend her observation. “A white, flowing
figure went straight for him. What was he supposed to do? Run over
it?”

Cynamon was a life taken
before her time—much too young by angel standards to be left on her
own. As a former honky-tonk angel, she had to earn her way by
watching over her assignments, especially since she’d lived by
questionable standards. Tonight, she chose to watch over the lone
vehicle on the road instead of the small curly-haired child safely
asleep in her bed.

“
You strayed
from your charge, Cyn.” Abraham throws his hands up in frustration.
“I knew one day this would happen. Why must you always go against
the rules? I hate to think what’s going to happen to you
now.”

Cyn concentrates on the
wreck below, tuning out his lecture as she searches for signs of
life, hoping maybe she’ll hear more than the static holiday music.
She tries to brush away the thought that there’ll be no ambulance,
no help for the poor soul in the truck. He’ll be found too
late.

“
Bella.”

She jerks an ear forward,
edging nearer to the end of her seat. Faint, very faint. Breathing.
Mumbling, a man’s voice. He is alive!

“
Abraham, did
you hear?” She turns to her guardian, hoping he heard the sounds,
too. He didn’t see the phantom, but surely, he heard the penitent
man’s voice. “He’s still alive. We can save him. You know we
can.”

Abraham towers over her
as if he didn’t hear her plea. His wingspan would cover the entire
truck if he spread it out fully. “Not we, Cyn. You. Convince this
mortal to fight for his life, and—”

That’s all she needs to
hear. It seems Abraham is daring her to accept. Who is she to
refuse? Cyn looks up and nods as he envelopes her in his massive
wings.

Truck driver Lee Thomas believes his life is
over after the ghost of his wife who died three years ago steps in
front of him and jack-knives his truck on a snowy Wisconsin road on
his way home.

Cyn Bedford, an angel, must convince him to
fight for his life. She’s broken an angel rule and has fallen in
love with her charge.

Will Cyn truly be Lee’s Road Angel for
life?

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Road Angel © 2013 by Maxine Douglas

MuseItUp Publishing

14878 James, Pierrefonds, Quebec, Canada, H9H
1P5

THE
QUEEN

Contemporary Paranormal by Maxine Douglas

Well Cole
Masterson, you’re in for the adventure of your life
I murmured to myself as my taxi
travelled south down the 710 Freeway through the mid-afternoon
traffic toward the Queen Mary. Now I’d be able to solve the family
mystery regarding my great-grandfather, the gold locket, and Hanna.
Who was Hanna? By the end of this mission I hoped to know. Palm
trees, sunshine and sandy beaches, everything that makes Southern
California a haven to those who come to play. For me playing is the
last thing on my mind. Ghost hunting occupies it more times than
not, and the Queen Mary is the perfect spot to exercise those
inclinations and thoughts.

Turning onto Queens
Highway—formerly Pier J—at the south end of the Long Beach Freeway,
the world’s once largest transatlantic vessel, loomed in front of
me. I knew she’d be large, but I never imagined the magnitude of
her presence. It was as if I could feel the past calling to me.
Climbing out of the taxi, I felt dwarfed by her shadow, and more
intrigued than I wanted to admit being a skeptic.

I handed over my bags to
the bell captain, and stepped into the elevator outside the ship.
Once on A Deck, I slowly walked through the door and into another
era. An era of 1930s glitz and glamour with a week’s worth of ocean
as a backdrop. The floors gleamed and the shops glimmered with a
long forgotten style. Okay, so we’re basically in dry dock—but we
are surrounded by water and most of it the Pacific Ocean so it felt
like I was about to sail away on a transatlantic
adventure.

And, strangely, it felt
like coming home as I boarded the ship I’d never stepped foot upon
until this moment. A chill crept through me as a picture of those
glamour years danced before my eyes and the iconic Titanic flitted
through my mind; minus the sinking into freezing cold water of
course. I was entering another world and I felt it down to my
bones. I walked over to check in, sure the chill was anything but
déjà vu. The smarmy desk clerk beamed at me no doubt glad of the
publicity I might bring to this floating hotel.

“
Welcome
aboard the Queen Mary, Mr. Masterson. We’ve worked hard to meet all
your requirements, including making sure the other guests will not
interfere with your investigation. You’ll be staying starboard side
in room A105.” He handed me the keycard, then pointed toward a
hallway just past a small lounge. “Enjoy your stay with
us.”

“
Thank you.”
I gathered my bags then walked the short distance to the room.
Pausing for a moment at the small hallway entrance to the room
door, I gazed in awe of the mile long corridor disappearing into
infinity.

At that moment of
anticipation a delicate shadow caught the corner of my eye and I
smiled. “And so it begins,” I muttered, swiping the keycard. I
opened the door and stepped into a long narrow room. Nothing
paranormal in nature jumped out to greet me. Two twin beds lined
the wall to the right with a small round table and lamp sitting
between the foot of each of them. A television stand sat directly
across from the table, leaving barely enough room for one person to
pass by.

It was pretty much what I
expected. Yes, my room was a bit meager than the first class
accommodations I could have stayed in. But it was exactly what I
wanted, simple and cozy affording me the quiet I needed to
work.

“
Alrighty
then, good thing I opted to room alone after all.”

Tossing my bags on the
far bed, I unpacked for the next week or two. Taking the digital
camera out of its protective casing, I checked the lens and the
amount of space left on the SD card. A quick glance into the bag
holding the 35mm affirmed my supply of black and white film was up
to par.

When G.H.O.S.T. received
a call to investigate the Queen Mary, there was no way I could turn
down a chance to disprove the ghost stories surrounding one of the
most historic hotels in the country. The entire purpose of this
requested investigation was to find a rationale reason for what
people thought they saw along the ship’s hallways, in pictures, or
at pianos. Nine times out of ten, a camera will pick up dust
particles in the air that seem to suggest spirits moving around.
With the ship’s history of service during World War II, I hated to
disprove the theory of the ship being haunted, but it was part of
my job and I’d perform it to the best of my ability.

This assignment has
become two-fold and personal. Not only would I be able to do what I
loved—dissecting hauntings—but now I’ll also be able to find out if
in fact the stories about my great-grandfather were true, and not
the ramblings of a lonely physician treating the wounded during
World War II.

According to the tattered
journal packed safely between my socks and underwear, my
great-grandfather Dr. William Masterson fell in love with an
English nurse while caring for the wounded aboard this ship called
The Grey Ghost during the Second World War. My great-grandfather
went on leave promising to return for the young lady the next time
The Ghost came into port.

Upon the ship’s return,
William found the nurse was gone. Instead, he’d been met by the
ship’s commanding officer and given a small pouch housing a gold
locket. He’d recognized his beloved’s locket on sight because it
contained precious pictures of them and his heart had broken. The
commanding officer told him, Hanna Amery had died of influenza on
their return voyage from Sydney, Australia and been buried at sea.
As she lay dying, he’d promised her to deliver the package to Dr.
Masterson upon the troopship’s return to the States.

After seeing the beauty
of the lobby with its art deco and highly polished woods, it was
hard for me to believe this luxury ocean liner had ever been a
troopship, let alone that great-grandfather was ever aboard her. A
ship regarded so highly by Hitler that he’d placed a bounty on her.
The first U-Boat commander who sunk The Grey Ghost would receive
two hundred fifty thousand dollars plus instantly become a hero.
Fortunately, the Ghost’s propellers were so loud the special sonar
equipment on the enemy’s U-boats was useless. If not for that, The
Grey Ghost and her eight hundred thousand soldiers would have
perished in the seas, and I wouldn’t be aboard now spending the
next few weeks investigating every nook and cranny.