Incorporeal (6 page)

Never, girlfriend, you never get to meet him
.
What a sad thought
. “Soon. I’ll try to arrange something soon.” Sara reached for the glass doors leading into the copy place. “Right now we focus on thing number one. I want these manuscripts presentable for Ms. Leah Rosen.”

“
It’s gonna cost you an arm and a leg, but it’ll be worth it when she reads them.” Dalton squeezed her elbow. “I just know she’ll read them. I think you should stick a few gift items in with the books, you know, personalize the submissions.”

Sara took her place in line at the order desk, Dalton trailing after her. “I’ve already thought of that,” she replied. “I’m planning to give her a couple bags of homemade granola…”

Dalton interrupted. “Oooh, that almond granola I like so much?”

“
Yes, plus I thought it might be nice to add a box of scented soaps and lotions, and maybe a few candles. You know how stale a hotel room can get.”

“
Perfect. While you’re in line, I’m going to find you the ideal gift bag, nothing tacky; something that says you’re serious about your work, but romantic when it comes to your fantasy life. You know, exactly the kind of woman a romance writer is supposed to represent.”

“
If you say so.”

“
Hey, Sara, don’t kid yourself, I know so. Romance is all about fantasy and make-believe, that’s why it’s addictive. It’s like the old Calgon commercial,
Calgon, take me away
! You write about every woman’s fantasy man. We all know he doesn’t exist, but we can pretend, can’t we? Seriously, there’s nothing better than a virile, larger than life, pretend man.” Dalton lowered her voice. “A good romance hero is like the fuckinator. He’ll fuck her.
That’s what he does.
That’s all he does.”

“
Go, before I snort coffee through my nose. Go, Dalton, please.” Sara’s shoulders shook with laughter as she watched her friend walk away.
A fuckinator? What a great idea for my next story. Guess I have my own personal fantasy fuckinator
.

I hope Nathan’s there when I get home. This disappearing act is worrisome. Actually, when I think about it, it’s this appearing act of his that should be worrying me more.

Why aren’t you worrying about that, Sara? Don’t you have way more to fear from a corporeal ghost who can, as you told Dalton, fuck your brains out?

I don’t know why I’m not afraid of him, but I’m not. I’m not afraid of Nathan. I’m not entirely sure he’s even a ghost. Maybe that’s worse.

God only knows what he really is. You are fucking a semi-incorporeal being with powers and abilities far beyond your understanding and you haven’t considered committing yourself to an asylum. What’s wrong with this picture, Sara?

Oh, honey, there is so much wrong that I wouldn’t know where to begin.

“
Can I help you, Miss?”

Sara forced herself to attend to the clerk. “Yes, I have several items I need professionally bound.” She pulled three separate manuscripts out of her shoulder tote and set them down on the counter.

“
When do you need these by?”

“
Friday, noon at the latest.”

The clerk’s brow furrowed slightly. “We can probably get it done today, but we’re short staffed this week and pretty backed up. Let me talk to my manager and see what kind of price I can give you.”

“
Thanks,” Sara called to his retreating back.
Great, I love spending more money I don’t have, but if it gets my stuff read, then it will be worth every penny.

***

Nathan returned home, to his dark, dank, deserted corner of purgatory, but the place no longer looked familiar. The stones were wrong, faded; darker than they’d been, if that was possible. He strode from one corner of his abode to the other, feeling the chill of death seep into his bones, and he shuddered. He could hear Sara’s voice –
What bones? You have no bones, you ghost
. The cold had never bothered him before; he’d welcomed it. It bothered him now.

This is not my home. I don’t belong here. I never did
. Nathan knew with clarity that he’d been wrong to remain separate as long as he had. If he’d allowed himself to enter the next realm, he’d have been reborn long ago, centuries ago, born again and again until perhaps he’d have been born into this time, into Sara’s time. He could have loved her as a man loves a woman, protected her, provided for her, given her children, grown old with her and passed on to the next life with her.

Damn
. Nathan slammed his clenched fist against a wall that was not a wall. It existed only in his mind. He knew he’d created it, along with this space, although he didn’t know how. The rock felt solid nonetheless, and the pain he experienced seemed as real as anything he’d felt when he’d walked the earth as a man. He shook his hand, reminding himself that the sensation was not real.

What about the sensation I feel when I’m with Sara? It seems real enough. God in heaven, it feels real.

But Sara’s home isn’t mine any more than this no-place is
.
What do I have to offer a living woman?
Nathan’s laugh echoed in the empty space, sounding bitter to his own ears.
Nothing whatsoever. I am not a man. I am dead and buried and I’ve been so for centuries.

Then why does my heart seem to beat? Why can I feel the warmth of a fire, the heat of her body; the silky softness of her skin beneath my fingertips?
Nathan closed his eyes and ran his ghost fingers through his ghost hair.

“
I don’t understand.” He spoke the words aloud and as he expected, he heard their faint echo. He turned in a slow circle, staring at the cold, silent space surrounding him.
This is not what I want. I want more. I want her
. Nathan knew what he had to do. It was time to join the dead.

Chapter Five

“
Nathan?” Sara gave the door a shove with her hip. She held the bound manuscripts in her arms, while the straps of her purse and the tote bag managed to dig jointly into her shoulder. It would be nice if he’d show off by opening the door for her. “Nathan?”

There was no answer.

Eyes lighting on the fireplace, hoping for the warm glow of a fire, Sara saw only dark, cold ashes. She turned in a slow, methodical circle, searching for any glimmer of her ghost. The room contained nothing but furniture and empty space. Sudden tears slid down her cheeks, surprising her. She tried and failed to wipe them away with her free shoulder, feeling a chill settle into her heart.

How odd that a long-dead incorporeal spirit could bring such light and warmth into a home. She’d grown so accustomed to Nathan’s presence in recent months that his absence felt almost like an amputation. And there was no mistake, he was absent.

She tried again. “Nathan, where are you?” Not a murmur, not a single, sibilant, ethereal, hiss, not the slightest brush of cool air as he passed by. The room was filled with pure, unadulterated, unbroken silence.

“
He’ll be back. He’s done this before, vanished for a day or two. He’ll be back.”
Fuck. He’d better be
.

Sara dropped manuscripts onto the dining room table, along with her purse and the heavy tote. After she shut the front door, Sara closed her eyes and listened one more time. The ice maker groaned and dropped ice into the plastic tray with a clack. Somewhere a faucet dripped. A far-off siren sounded like the howl of a lone wolf. There was no Nathan.

“
Well this sucks. He leaves without any explanation or a fare thee well and I’m stuck talking to myself. I don’t even have the foggiest notion why he showed up in the first place. Great, just great. I was going to make him tell me about that tonight. I want an explanation.” Her voice rose. “Do you hear that, Nathan? I demand an explanation for your presence.”

What if I never get it?
Sara’s feet refused to move.
What if I never get an explanation for his presence because I never see him again? Oh my god
. Wobbly legs dictated she sit on the couch before she fell onto the floor.
Do you want to see him again?
The answer came to her in a flash.
Yes. I want to see Nathan again.

Are you falling in love with a ghost? Sara, be reasonable
.

What’s to be reasonable about? There’s nothing reasonable about this situation. C’mon, brain, admit it, you’ve fallen in love with a ghost. He may be incorporeal much of the time, but he’s the best man that’s ever happened to you.

Stop. Stop right now. The situation is impossible. A living woman cannot be in love with a dead man.

“
Oh yeah, remember last night? Well he didn’t feel dead last night. His heart beat; he was warm to the touch. I swear, I don’t know what Nathan is, but one thing he’s not is your run-of-the-mill ghost.”

There you go again, talking to yourself.

Irritated, Sara rose to her feet. She cried out loud, “Well who the hell else am I going to talk to? There’s not a soul who knows what I can do, what I can see. Not even my best friend knows, and if she did, she’d run for the hills. She thinks I have a vivid imagination. She likes my stories, but that’s all they are to her, made up stories, fairytales. But they’re not. What happens to me is real.” Her voice shook. “It’s as real as eating a piece of toast or driving to the grocery store or watching a movie or taking a long, hot shower. I can’t keep pretending otherwise. I see ghosts. A ghost has been living in my house for almost three months. I’ve been making love with him. I have to face the fact that I’m involved with a dead man.” Sara stomped her foot. “Deal with it, brain.”

Her stomach rumbled and she remembered that her food intake for the day had consisted of coffee with Dalton and an apple for lunch. “Fine,” she called out to the empty room. “I’ll eat all by myself. And here I planned to make some spicy curry for you, Nathan. Have you ever eaten curry?” She headed to the kitchen. “Do you even eat?”

Sara grumbled as she banged pots and pans around on the stove. Reaching into the fridge, she filled both arms with bags of vegetables and a package of raw chicken. Before she knew it, she’d dropped the slippery chicken onto the floor, the veggies went skittering across the cutting board and she’d sliced her hand with a paring knife.

Sara took a deep breath; wrapped a clean dishtowel around her bleeding palm. “Stop it. You’re acting like a complete idiot. He didn’t abandon you; he’s not capable of abandoning anyone. A ghost can’t fall in love. He’s dead, Sara, dead and buried. Your worlds collided for a moment, that’s all.”

She stared at the mess she’d managed to make of the kitchen, remembering the satisfied sound in Nathan’s voice when he’d told her he’d put away all the groceries.

Enough!
I can’t think about this now
.
I’ll go crazy if I do.

With a sob, Sara ran for the stairs.

***

“
Why have you come, Natan de Manua?”

Nathan paused at the bottom of the majestic winding marble staircase. He stared at the Guardian. “You know why I’m here.”

“
Of course I do.” A smile cracked the stone cold face. “I simply want to hear the words from your own lips.”

Nathan felt like punching the angel.

“
Your pride has ever been your enemy, Natan. We are not.” He moved his golden spear aside.

As he passed the angel, he said, “Nathan. My name is Nathan.”

“
It is Natan, God has given.”

Nathan stopped and turned to look into the imposing face of the Guardian. “My mother called me Nathan, so to you, I am Nathan.”

A wicked grin curved the corners of the creature’s mouth. “So be it, Nathan. I hope you find the answers you seek.”

Nathan continued up the stairs without a backwards glance. “Or you may leave with even more questions.” The voice trailed after him. Determined to ignore his doubts, Nathan increased his pace. He needed to speak with one person, if he could find her.

***

She waited beyond a thin, slivery veil of rain, alone in the ruins of his former home. Nathan felt a bitter laugh well up inside.
It’s not as if anything remains a secret in Sheol, in this realm of shades and shadows
. Of course she expected him, even after so many centuries.

She sat upon the edge of a tumble-down wall, watching him approach. Long golden curls drifted about her serene face, stirred by a nonexistent breeze. She appeared very much the same as she had centuries before, when he’d been a young boy and she’d held him in her arms, comforting him after his brothers had teased him and left him behind to struggle along on his pony, covered in the dust of their larger mounts. Nathan was her youngest, but he’d been her only child to survive the catastrophe.

He dropped to one knee and bowed his head. Reaching for the pale slender hands he remembered so well, Nathan grasped them, folding them within his own. “Mother, here I am.”

Her reaction stunned him. He expected her to pull away, to scorn him, but instead she brought his hands to her lips. “My son, my dear son, you’ve come back to us. You’ve forgiven yourself at last.”

“
Forgiven myself? Mother, I failed you, all of you. I’m not the one who can forgive. It’s you and, and…” His voice broke and he let go of her hands, dropping his head into her lap.