It was true. Somehow, she knew it in her bones. Not from the photo of him, just as handsome in an army uniform, but in the things that weren’t adding up. She had never felt his heart, and as handsome as he was,is, only recently had he begun to look like his features had any life in them, any color. Then there were his clothes, the way he spoke ... He was dead. A ghost—but she wasn’t scared. She was angry. He should have told her.
Why didn’t he tell her?
But how would that conversation go?Baby, I have something to tell you, I’m dead, now how about a quickie?
She pushed her phone away, placing her head in her hands. Then she pulled it back once more, reading the article again. It was like a form of torture at this point.
Sun was spilling in through the windows now, like light painting over the dark.
Then he was in the room. Then beside her, hand on her shoulder, and she couldn’t help but stiffen. His lips nearly met her head before he also stiffened, reading the article over her shoulder.
A strangled sound from deep in his throat escaped, as he spun her chair to face him. She didn’t want to look at him, but here he was, on his knees in front of her, the sunlight spilling across his features, changing his blue eyes to buttery yellow, and illuminating every shine of his curls. A sob left her throat as the enormity of the situation sank in, into her bones, her heart.
He was dead. She loved him and he was dead. She covered her hands over her eyes as her body shook. He sighed, despondent, and removed her hands from her face, pulling her close to him, running his hands through her hair and murmuring words of comfort. His whispered words felt like an embrace in themselves, until she remembered her anger. Who had the power to make you forget you’re angry with them? Theodore, apparently.
Julia pushed him away, nearly sending him from his knees, falling to the floor. He caught himself just in time though, hurt flashing across his features.
She shook her head, her mass of pink hair shaking out like a mane behind her. She placed a sarcastic hand over her heart. Her beating heart.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are you hurt? Did I forget to tell you something important?”
He splayed his hands in front of himself in surrender. “Please, Julia. Please,” was all he said.
She gritted her teeth. She couldn’t stay angry. If the roles were reversed, would she have told him? She realized that she didn’t know, and the thought alone had her reaching out for him, running her fingers through his silken hair.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry this happened to you. How is this all possible?”
He squeezed her hand. “I think we should talk.” He rose, and she with him, tucking herself into his neck and planting a kiss there.
“I’ll make tea.”
Once the tea was made and they were sitting at the table, hands intertwined, she looked at him expectantly.
“Where should I begin?”
“I think the beginning would be a good place to start.” She smiled.
“Well, I was born in—”
She coughed lightly. “Maybe not quite that far back.”
He grinned, flicking her nose, and it melted any remaining ire.
When the smile slipped from his face, her heart pinched. She didn’t want to cause him pain, but it was like ripping off the Band-Aid. She wanted the most important facts, not unlike Camilla and her job, to get the cold hard facts and add the little details later, like piecing together a puzzle.
“There was an arranged marriage planned in my family between the oldest son, me, and the oldest daughter, Lillian, of the Pitt family. The idea was to unite the families’ fortunes. The Pitts were likely to lose their pub, and they needed the money from the match. Lillian and I tried to get to know one another, and we did, and we liked each other.Liked. She fell in love with someone from our village and I was happy for her. I couldn’t stand the idea of being married to someone for the rest of my life who I didn’t love.” He chuckled darkly, running a hand through his hair. “Turns out that didn’t matter.” He took a sip of his tea.
“My family was in London, at a conference for the family business. I stayed home to watch the house. It turns out the Pitt family doesn’t take well to being told no. Lillian’s two brothers, Tommy and Eric, came to the house that night to kill me. To take revenge for dishonoring their family, disrespecting the pact. They ... caught me by surprise ... stabbed me, and the world went dark. The next thing I remember is being back on the grounds ... roughly a week after my funeral, I found out later. So here I’ve been, wandering the grounds and the house—I can go no further.”
Julia let all this information sink in. She had roughly one thousand questions, but she knew he was overwhelmed as it was.
She stroked the pad of her thumb over his hand, and asked the most pertinent one on her mind.
“How is it that I can feel you, touch you?”
“I can touch whoever owns this house. I could see and touch my parents, my sister, but they couldn’t see me. It ... broke me, but with you ... I can speak to you. I felt a pull immediately, but I was shocked you could see me. So in truth, I have no idea, but I’m so glad I can.”
“But I took your photo, on my phone.” Her eyes flicked to him. He nodded. Okay, so he knew what phones were, cool. “How is that possible? I sent your photo to Camilla, and she could see you, recognize you.”
