Ghost of a Chance Book 1 in Above the Grave Trilogy (10 page)

“Not now, Brendan.” Drew said rubbing her head.
“Actually, if you could find something a little less depressing
that would be nice. Especially since the damn cable guy won’t
come in the house again since you kept moving the cable wire
every time he turned around.
If you knew what you were
missing you wouldn’t be such an ass about having television.”
The piano picked up its pace and Drew danced her way to the
bedroom.

The hot bath felt amazing.
The music drifted in from
the living room and she found that it was quite relaxing. She
had filled the bath with bubbles that covered everything up to
her chin, just in case. She had almost drifted off to sleep in the
bath and hadn’t even noticed the piano had stopped playing.

He knew it was wrong to look in on her while she was
bathing but something made him go through the door anyway.
He watched her breath. She was so beautiful. She had enough
bubbles to supply an entire spa so all he could see was her face.
He stayed long enough to make sure that she didn’t fall asleep
in the tub then when she started to sit up he left the room and
whispered good night so low that even he barely heard it
himself.

The next day Drew could feel him watching her every
move. She could feel his movements as if he were trying to
smother her. She felt him stiffen with every movement around
the house and felt him leap forward with the first spray of
pledge.

“Don’t worry; it won’t hurt your furniture.” She said.
“It helps protect it and leaves a nice clean shine.” She
demonstrated with a wipe of the cloth. “See!”

She felt him back off then and knew that he was
pleased. She drew open the curtains and opened the windows
for fresh air. She then set her canvas up in the living room.

She had promised Liza that she would put her painting
away for a while but it was in her blood. She craved the feel of
the brush in her hand. She told herself that she wouldn’t paint
faces, only objects.

She painted a tree, a very “happy” tree she thought,
some flowers grew around the trunk. She tried very hard to
stay focused, to draw happy things. Somehow she was lost
again. Lost in a world she knew nothing about.

She drew him again. He was tall, so tall that she had to
stand on her tip toes to kiss his lips. His shoulders were broad,
so broad that he could swallow her when he wrapped his arms
around her to dance closely as they had in so many of her
dreams.

She felt her temperature rise as his hands fell across
her breast. Her toes curled as his other hand reached around to
brace the back of her neck as he leaned in to take her mouth in
his.

She had never been kissed that way before. She had
never really even been kissed before for that matter. She had
never felt that way before.
She dropped her charcoal stick
when she heard the table next to the couch tip over. It had
made her jump and startled her back into reality.

When she looked around her there were drawings
everywhere. At some point she had traded her paint brush in
for charcoal. She saw his face again, everywhere. Her eyes
focused then on the drawing that she had just been working on
when the table crashing broke her trance. She saw what she
had never experienced before in her life nor had any desire for.
She saw the image that had just been in her mind. She saw
them together on paper in front of her, making love. She saw it
and she fainted.

Chapter 4
The Moon

Brendan hadn’t meant to knock over the end table. He
had been watching her paint like a mad person, painting after
painting. She painted half of his face in one then threw down
her brush, tore the paper off and sketched just his eyes with
charcoal. She tore the paper off again and again all following a
crazed episode of drawing him. She was in a trance.

She had finally stopped and just stared at the blank
canvas.
He thought that she was done.
Then she started
drawing very slowly.
She was mumbling something under
hear breath that he couldn’t understand. He walked away. Not
sure what to do. He couldn’t let her continue this fanatical
episode. When he turned around and saw what she had drawn,
the two of them together as only he had imagined, he had
started toward her, to stop her somehow, and ran into the table.

He saw her eyes then. She was frightened. He didn’t
understand why, but when the color left her face he knew that
she was going to faint. He ran to her and caught her before she
could hit the floor. He tucked her into her bed then left her
once again. This time he put the paintings and drawings up
stairs where she would never see them. And even went as far
as hiding her art tools. He didn’t see the point of her going
through it all over again.

Is this what she had been doing in the back room? He
had peaked in and saw the paintings of himself, of Liza, and of
Mary Ann on the walls. He had never watched her go through
her trance. He didn’t know how she knew what they all looked
like, but seeing their faces reminded him of a past long ago that
he didn’t want to think about. He loved those women with all
of his heart. He couldn’t bear to look at them so he stayed
away from her drawing room.

If he had known what was happening to her when she
was painting, he would have stopped it long ago. He made a
mental note that he was going to have to keep an eye on her.
She obviously needed protecting, maybe from himself, he
wasn’t quite sure. Was it his ghostly presence that was causing
her insanity? He didn’t know for sure. He knew that if it was
that he wasn’t doing it on purpose. He would do what was in
his power though to keep her from going insane.

Drew woke alone in her bedroom. She couldn’t
remember how she had gotten there. She opted for a bath to
snap her out of whatever she had fallen into. She could hear
the piano playing in the living room. It was a very sad tune. It
made her want to cry. The bath was very relaxing as usual.
She closed her eyes and listened to Brendan play. She was lost
in her own thoughts again and didn’t hear the music stop.

“Why are you so hateful to your mother?” Brendan
said.

Drew almost jumped out of the bath.
It took her a
moment to collect herself. “Great. You are silent for a week
and then when you do speak you want to talk about my retched
mother?”

“Let’s talk about the paintings then. Do you know the
man in your paintings?” Brendan said quietly, almost fatherly.
Drew felt the tug of a hair brush through her wet hair then. It
should have freaked her out, but it was very relaxing so she laid
her head back and enjoyed the moment.

Drew felt herself slipping into a trance. She closed her
eyes. “I’m not sure. I feel like I do. I don’t even know his
name.”

“I heard you tell your friend that you were in love with
him.” He said even quieter.

 

“I know. That’s silly isn’t it? I don’t even like men.
They scare me.” She said sleepily.

 

“I don’t scare you, yet I am a man.” Brendan said as
he continued to brush her hair gently.

She felt his finger tips along the edge of her hairline
now and opened her eyes. “I didn’t think of you that way
before I guess.”

“Why aren’t you afraid of me? Most women scream at
the thought of a ghost and swoon at the thought of a man. You
are a strange one, Miss Drew.” He stopped brushing her hair
then and she could hear his footsteps walk towards the door.

“Will you come back after I get dressed?” Drew said.
She didn’t know why but she didn’t want him to go. “I think I
may have some wine and I wouldn’t mind some company.”

“Aye.” Was all that he said and he shut the door.

What was she doing to him?
She was stirring up
feelings in him that he hadn’t felt for a very, very long time,
inside and out. Was it even possible for a ghost to be aroused?
The feel of her hair on his skin, the smell of the lavender in her
bath, how was it even possible?
had moved things around but
He had played the piano, he
he had never
literally
felt

anything since, well he didn’t like to say died but it was true.
He had died. He had no sense of smell, he had not once had
any sense of touch in one hundred and fifty years yet he felt
her.

He had been watching her all week. She was definitely
different than the women from his time. She spoke to him a lot
and he was afraid to answer her. She spoke to herself a lot
which confused him because he wasn’t sure if she was talking
to him or not. He had learned a lot about her in such a short
time and yet really didn’t know her at all. He had wanted to
touch her though so many times.

He loved the way that she would tuck that pink strand
of hair behind her ear and bite her thumb nail when she was
really thinking.
Or, the way that her face would bunch up
when she was reading what looked like a love story, as if she
were confused. He didn’t know what made him finally go in
and talk to her; he just knew that it was time.

Drew dried off and found a long silky white night
gown that Liza had given her as a way to tell her to girly up
after having to borrow sweats to sleep in. It still had the tag on
it. She was feeling like a woman and wanted to look beautiful
for some reason. Normally, jeans, a t-shirt, and boots or cotton
sweats and a tank top were her cup of tea but she was feeling a
little feminine this evening and Liza’s gift was the perfect thing
to set it off.

She lit candles and even added a little rouge to her
cheeks. The mirror in her room had been turned around to face
the wall the first time she came into the room just as all of the
other mirrors in the house had when she moved in. She turned
the hair dryer on and closed her eyes as the heat relaxed her yet
again. She hadn’t realized how tired she was.

He would have to tell her about the wine cellar he
supposed.
For tonight though he would bring her what he
knew that she liked as she had brought it from the outside and
put it in that strange box that kept things cold without ice.
It
was
a chilled strawberry
wine that
had been bottled in
Ponchatoula he noticed.

When he heard the hair dryer he knew that she must be
dressed and let himself in. He almost dropped the tray that to
the human eye would seem to be floating in midair.
She was
absolutely beautiful.
She stood in candle light facing the
mirror. Her eyes were closed and the air from the dryer blew
her long gorgeous blonde hair away from her face. The white
gown that she wore made her look even more like an angel. He
was glad that she couldn’t hear the moan that he had just
uncontrollably released from somewhere deep within.
He saw
her eyes start to flutter open and quickly moved before she
could see him in the mirror. He wasn’t quite ready for her to
see that he was literally the man of her dreams.

He set the wine glass and bottle of wine on the night
stand and watched as she put the hair dryer in an ancient
drawer. She then brushed her hair again with the antique silver
brush that he had remembered to be a gift from his parents to
his sister.

How he had missed his sister.
They had been very
close and he would have killed the murderer himself if he had
only known who had done it. Even more he would have kept
her safe from harm if he had known that she was in any danger
at all.

Drew laid the brush down and looked around the room.
She could feel his presence, but had no idea where he was
exactly.

“I know that you are in here. Where are you?” She
said.

 

“By the night stand and I brought you some wine.” He
said still watching her.

“Thank you. That was very sweet.” She walked
towards the night stand then. “Have I ever, you know, walked
through you?” She said hoping that she wasn’t doing that at
the moment.

He laughed a deep laugh that gave her goose bumps,
the good kind that make you want to grab someone close and
hold on to them. She wasn’t use to those kinds of feelings
though for men and she really didn’t know how to react to
them.

“No, you haven’t. Someone did that once and it wasn’t
very pleasant. So, I try to avoid it as much as possible.”

“I see.” She said a little uncomfortably. “Well, please
excuse me then while I pour myself a glass of wine.” She
poured the wine and sat on the bed. She knew at that moment
that it wasn’t going to take long for her eyes to close for the
night.

“Why is it that your Irish accent comes and goes,
Brendan O’Keefe?” She said after taking a sip of wine to calm
her nerves.

“How is it that you know my name?” He asked her.

 

“You first, we can take turns if you like. I have a
million questions.” She said excitedly.

“As do I. Fair enough then.” She felt him sit beside
her on the bed. “I suppose it comes because I was born and
raised in Ireland. I moved here just ten years before…well,
you know. I suppose it has been quite a while since I have
been home so it fades now and then. Now you, how is it that
you know my name lass?” She smiled as she was sure that he
added lass in there on purpose, as if to prove to her that he still
had a little Irish in him.

“From the… library, I did some checking after I
learned that I had a roommate.” She didn’t really want to tell
him about the cemetery yet. He had paused several times as to
not say that he died she assumed that he didn’t really want to
talk about it.

“Really? They have information about me at the
library? What information do they have exactly?” She felt the
bed move as if he had sat up straight.