Silent Whisper (23 page)

“You’re supposed to being taking it easy,” he said, as I unzipped his jeans, and pulled his erection out.

“Then make it easy on me and quit fighting it, Ryan,” I said, running my tongue down the length of it, as I cupped his balls. Once my tongue moved back up to the head, circling the tip and gently nipping his sensitive ridge with my teeth, he was on board with everything. I devoured him with my mouth and tongue, putting pressure on his perineum with my fingers as he moaned in pleasure. I was doing things to his cock that were new to me…and to him. As I felt the pulsing of his impending climax, I pulled him in deeper, my hands gripping his tight ass, to bring him in closer. He groaned with the release of his warm cum, running down my throat, as I swallowed each powerful stream, moaning with my own pleasure.

“Fuck,” he growled, his hand fisting my hair, “On the bed, now.”

And for the next hour, we fucked with total abandonment like we never had before. I mean as far as our sex life had gone, I’d no complaints, but now it seemed as if we’d been missing out on some primal level that was new to the both of us. And it totally rocked our sexual world.

Afterwards we curled up against one another. A thin film of perspiration coated our naked bodies; the room smelled like our sex and I loved it. I asked Ryan to fill me in on the past few days.

Apparently, my agent had contacted both of my emergency contacts—Mom and Ryan, and both of them had hauled ass to Chester, West Virginia.

My mind was still cluttered with pieces of the puzzle that had been my life for the past several days.

Dream?

Reality?

I couldn’t tell. It’d had been way too vivid and in full panoramic color to be a dream. Besides that, my normal dreams had never made sense. This one
had
in a twisted sort of way. And then how could I explain the
physical
transition away as being part of the dream? I had
felt
the changes in my body temperature; the fullness that spread through every part of me, the realization that it wasn’t my thoughts fluttering through my mind anymore…it had been
her
thoughts.

“You okay?” Ryan asked, pulling me back to the here and now.

I nodded.

“Listen, I made plane reservations for us tomorrow,” Ryan said, his fingers stroking my hair gently. “Ready to go home?”

“I need to talk to you for a minute, Ryan,” I said, running my fingers over his muscular chest. “I need to tell you something, but I need for you to
not
say anything until I’m finished. I know that you’re going to think this was all some comatose dream, but I’m not sure that explains what happened totally. I think it was much more than that.”

“I’m listening, baby,” he said softly.

And then I told him everything that had happened since the car accident with all the detail that I could remember, there were some blank spaces in my journey that I couldn’t recollect, but I was certain I’d remembered the most important parts. When I was finished, I couldn’t look at him. I simply hoped like hell that he wasn’t going to laugh, or have me committed.

His fingers cupped my chin, tilting my face up so that our eyes locked. He studied me for a moment. There was nothing but concern on his face.

He thinks I’m nuts.

But as I continued to gaze at him, the concern was replaced by understanding and sincerity. And then I knew that he was simply trying to digest it all. “I believe you,” he said. “It makes sense when I think back to what the paramedics said when they found you in that cemetery.”

“Who found me?” I asked, suddenly needing to know.

He shrugged. “No idea. A woman phoned 9-1-1 and reported it and then left the scene. The dispatcher said whomever it was that called was whispering. There was no caller I.D. on the call, either. They thought maybe the person was afraid to give a name…or have their voice on tape. The weird thing is…that when the dispatcher went to play it back for his supervisor, there was nothing recorded on the tape.”

“Ryan, you need to take me there. I need to go to that grave again.”

“Parrish,” he said, trying to soothe me, “What do you expect to find?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I just know that it’s something I need to do, and that I need to do it alone.”

“Whoa, wait a minute. I’m not about to drop you off at the cemetery and leave you there. Not happening, babe.”

“You don’t have to drop me off. You can wait in the car, in the parking lot. I need to go to the grave myself. I need to talk to my mother and she won’t appear if you’re with me.”

“And you know this
how
?”

“Just a feeling,” I admitted. “Will you humor me?”

“Don’t I always? Get a warmer coat and let’s go.”

The sun was shining on this crisp, cold December afternoon as I trudged through the snow of the cemetery where I’d quite literally collided just a few yards away from Karlie Masterson’s grave only days before.

Funny, but it seemed like almost a lifetime ago…or should I say part-of a lifetime? A lifetime that had been cut short on purpose. That is, if I was truly convinced that it hadn’t been some dream generated by my comatose state. I was fairly certain it had been real.

I’d never given much thought about the existence of spirits—or ghosts. I guess I was the type of person who believed that supernatural things were always a possibility; I didn’t see things as being either black or white.

Ryan was the same way. I recalled a photo shoot he’d done the previous year for a piece on the haunted catacombs of Paris. He’d shown me several photos he’d taken where you could clearly see shadowy apparitions amongst the live people that were touring. He’d been so excited over the validity of the photos since he had not only taken them, but developed them as well. I think that had convinced Ryan of their existence, and me as well, though the woman in the black sweater dress that I’d observed that snowy night looked totally different than what I’d seen in Ryan’s photos.

I reached the grave, and felt the chill of the wind kick up just a bit as I stood there, not knowing what the hell I was supposed to do or say to conjure her up. I mean what the hell were the rules with spirits, ghosts, and poltergeists, whatever the politically correct term was these days? Did they only come out at night when it was pitch dark? Could they be hanging around without showing themselves? Could they hear human voices?

I guess I was about to find out.

Luckily no one else was around or I probably wouldn’t have had the nerve to start the conversation just then. I needed to cut to the chase, get to the point with her. She owed me some answers.

“Okay, Karlie. I’m here; you’ve got my attention so you need to let me know that you can hear me.”

I waited, feeling the wind whip around me. I pulled the collar up around my neck tighter. “So, I’m not going to stand here all afternoon and freeze my ass off, you know? You wanted me to do something for you, but before I consider that, you need to clear some shit up for me.”

My voice had gotten louder for some reason, and I quickly turned and looked around to make sure I was still alone. I was.

“Parrish, you have a potty-mouth.”

Huh?

I whirled back around and there she was. Sitting on top of her own headstone, wearing the same black sweater dress, same hose and heels; her legs and arms both crossed. Her voice came out plain, no whispering, and I immediately recognized it.

“You
are
real,” I breathed.

“Well, as
real
as any ghost can be,” she replied smiling.

“I don’t understand—your
voice,
I recognize it now, but I didn’t before—when you whispered to me that night, I mean.”

“That’s understandable,” she said, “Since next to the sense of smell, the sense of sound is strongest in your memory. Even before you were born and then as a tiny baby, you heard my voice—a lot.”

“It’s so
clear
right now.”

“That’s because I soaked up some of your energy while I was in the driver’s seat the last few days, my darling daughter. I hope you didn’t mind. It sure makes it easier for me to get around and communicate for now. It will diminish over the next couple of weeks. But Parrish,” she continued, “I want you to know that circumstances outside of my control brought you to me; I want you to understand that. I had nothing to do with your accident. I’d never do anything to put you at risk. Mommy loves you.”

I shook my head, not able to contain my smile. “I can’t look at you and call you ‘mom’. I’m sorry—and it’s not because I don’t believe you—I mean I got the story firsthand, so I know it
wasn’t
a dream, but damn, you’re
younger
than me.”

And then she laughed and it freakin’ sparkled. “My ghostly form is still twenty-two, but I assure you my spiritual essence is forty-nine. Yep—I hit the big five-oh next May unless I finish crossing over. Then you get to decide what age you want to be, I mean how cool is that?”

“Okay—
rewind
, please? I don’t understand any of this, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to give me a quick ‘Poltergeist 101’ training session.”

“First off, I’m
not
a poltergeist. You need to know
that
right from Jump Street.”

Jump Street?

I was totally clueless about all of this, but I could tell she felt insulted. “Is that a bad thing?” I asked her.

“Yes, most definitely. You see, poltergeists are manifestations of
negative
energy—they’re aggressive and besides that, they can’t be seen. I, on the other hand, I’m a living
soul
that hasn’t totally crossed over into the next world permanently because…well,
obviously
I have some unfinished business that’s important to me.”

“Okay, I think I understand. So, can you tell me where exactly you’ve been for the last twenty-seven almost twenty-eight years then?”

“In Limbo.”

Holy Mother of Christ.

Having been raised Catholic, I was familiar with Limbo. But this didn’t sound like the Limbo we’d been told about in grade school.

“I thought Limbo was where babies went that hadn’t been baptized?”

I actually saw my ghost-mom roll her eyes, and shake her head, the blond permed curls bouncing. “Yeah, well they told you
wrong
, my sweet daughter. I mean Limbo is the bomb, don’t get me wrong. It’s
almost
perfect, but of course you know it can’t be
totally
perfect or it would be heaven, right?”

I nodded.

“So before I go any further with the things I need you to do for me, I just have to tell you how much I love you, my beautiful baby girl.”

And that got me choked up as I watched my mother tear up.

“You are exquisite. You turned out perfect and though I missed all of those years between then and now with you, I can see that Lana did right by you. But I realize now that she never told you about me—otherwise, you would’ve recognized my name on the headstone of my grave that night you came barreling into the cemetery.”

“That’s why you kept pointing to it?” I asked, wiping an errant tear that rolled down my cheek.

“Yes my darling,” she continued, “You see, if Lana had ever brought you to the cemetery, I would’ve known it and have been able to appear to you just like I did the evening of your accident. I guess I hadn’t counted on the fact that she
never
told you about me at all.”

“Why do you suppose she didn’t?” I asked, feeling puzzled myself. “I think she must have been worried you might want to find Dominic—your father. Do you recall him from our trip?”

I nodded vigorously.

“Lana wasn’t fond of him—of his heritage mostly. I’m sure she felt she was doing what was best for you, and I’m not in a position to second guess her actions. Still, I remember the morning Dominic and I made you,” she continued wistfully. “You were conceived in love, Parrish—a love like no other I promise you. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t around to raise you—but you at least know
that
part of the story now.”

“But I need to know more,” I interrupted her. “I need to know what its been like for you.”

“Parrish, I’ve got to preserve my energy so that you and I can talk about that thing I need for you to do. Sweetheart, I need to get the hell out of Limbo—and you can help me do that.”

“Yeah, I know what you want, and trust me, I’d like nothing better than to honor that request, Karlie—”

“Whoa, hold up there. Do you think you can call me ‘Ma’? It would mean a lot to me and I kinda think I deserve it after all I’ve gone through.”

“Okay—Ma,” I said, smiling. “I really want to find Domi—Dad,” I said, “But all I know is what you knew at the time of the…accident.”

“Accident my butt! You know better than that, Parrish. Walter Locke played mechanic on my car and then slipped some kind of chill pill into the coffee to make sure I didn’t get to where your daddy was. Now I’ve forgiven him for that, because I know that he did it out of love for Lana, and for you, and also because I can’t hold grudges if I want out of Limbo.”

“I barely remember him,” I said, “He died when I was five years old, so I just have a few scattered memories. My mother—er, I mean Lana said that he was a good man. She’s never remarried either. I hope that he didn’t…you know, end up…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence, and besides that, I wasn’t sure if she was tuned into the hereafter status for other deceased people.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a heavy sigh, “He’s
not
in hell. He’s doing a little time in Purgatory, but he’ll get his pass eventually. Maybe before I get mine if we don’t get you on your way. I know Lana was not a part of it, so please don’t blame her, okay?”

I nodded.

“We seem to be getting off the subject again.”

“Sorry Ma,” I said, giving her a sheepish grin. “So, you were going to tell me how I might find my father?”

“Well it’s not like I’ve been able to keep tabs on him, Parrish. It doesn’t work like that. You’re the only person on earth that I have a spirit to human connection with. And even that is limited to when you’re physically within my essence sector. When you drove into the cemetery that night, it was the first time you’ve been in my sector, so that’s the first time I’ve seen you since I left you with Lana that night. By the way, you look just like your father with those dark brown eyes and that thick, dark, wavy hair. I’m so very proud of the woman you’ve become.”