The Winter Spirit ARE (8 page)

I couldn’t hold back a stupid grin. “No,” I said. “Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment but I can take care of myself. He’s not…a bad guy.”

“He’s not the guy for you.”

The air in the room seemed to change, to thicken, like I might float to the ceiling. “No,” I said. “I think you’re right.” And then I realized my hand was on his arm and I could
feel
him. I looked down. “Oh my God.” I gaped at my fingers against his sleeve. I rubbed them back and forth a little bit. The cloth of his cuffs was soft. I moved my hand, rubbed my thumb along his wrist. His skin felt cooler than mine, but not cold, and maybe a little too smooth. But other than that… “I’m touching you,” I whispered and lifted my eyes.

Gabriel was staring at me, a small, sad smile curling his mouth. “You are.” He gently stepped away from me.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.” He nodded and disappeared, leaving me alone with the shards in the kitchen.

“I know for a fact you can help me clean up,” I mumbled, but my heart wasn’t in it.

“Who’re you talking to?”

I spun around. Owen was peering into the kitchen. “Oh, just myself. It’s nothing. I didn’t stack the dishes very well.”

“Oh.” A slow grin climbed his face. “So do you want to pick up where we left off? Maybe in my room? When you’re done here…”

I sucked in a deep breath and faced him head on. “I don’t think so, Owen. I…I have to admit, I’ve thought about you like that a lot, but I don’t know if it’s what I really want. So much time has passed and—”

He stepped into my space and ran a finger from the middle of my chest to my bellybutton. “Did I come on too strong? Was I too rough?” He bit his lip and sent me a cheeky smile. “I see a guy like you, and you’re like a teddy bear, you know?” He made grabby hands. “I want to squeeze you.”

“I’m not sure I want to be squeezed,” I told him.

“Well, that’s okay with me. I can take it easy. Come see me later, Nate. We can have some fun.”

Some fun. And then what? Whatever this was for Owen, it’d never be what I wanted from life. And maybe I was shooting myself in the foot. After all, chances like this didn’t sprout from the snow on a daily basis around here.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” His face fell and I felt bad. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” he said, then hesitated for a second and pressed close again. He lightly kissed me on the mouth, once, twice, then leaned back and laughed bashfully.

Now those kinds of kisses I
did
like. Just not from Owen.

After I tidied up the shards and put the dishes away, I resolved to go read a book in my room and think. Somehow over the past twenty four hours my lusting for Owen had gone from hot-blooded to lukewarm and I realized I was probably attracted to the idea of the two of us back when we were young, rather than the men we’d become.

It gave me a little ache in my chest, a small pang of loss, but I realized it was the death of a dream, not a lost love.

As I walked past the reception desk, the phone rang. Since it was almost ten pm I would usually have let the answering machine take it, but since I was right there…

“Lake House B&B, this is Nathaniel. How may I help you?”

“I’m calling for Owen Ashurts,” a woman said. “Is he staying with you?”

“Who’s calling?” I asked.

“Brenda Ashurts,” she said. “His wife.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Stared at the painting behind the desk of Lake Michigan at spring time until my eyes went gritty. “He’s in his room,” I managed to croak eventually. Hopefully she thought I’d been looking through the guest registry or something. “I’ll put you through.”

I tapped the forwarding button and Owen’s room number. The phone only rang once.

“Hello?”

“Owen, there’s a phone call for you.”

“Who is it?” he asked.

I took a noiseless breath, said, “Your wife,” and connected the call. Elisa’s Christmas tree twinkled at me and I glared at it as I stomped up to my room.

He came to find me half an hour later, with a knock soft and hesitant enough I felt comfortable ignoring him, and he didn’t push. I sat in my rocking chair with a blanket over my knees and the murder mystery I hadn’t been able to pay attention to.

I didn’t see Gabriel appear, but I knew the moment he was there. The air crackled a little. The hairs on the back of my neck rose with anticipating awareness. I realized I’d been looking forward to spending time with him. That I’d been waiting.

I watched him approach in his suit and impeccable hair and wished I could do something to offer him some respite.

“Do you play chess?” I asked and Gabriel’s eyes lit up. I brought out the game—something Uncle Jack left behind—and set it on the little wooden table between the rocking chairs. I won the first round, but Gabriel won the one after that, and I didn’t realize how late it had become until a giant yawn cracked my jaw. As I packed away the pieces, everything I’d forgotten for a blissful while came tumbling back.

Owen’s poor wife… I sank back down in my chair, knowing I wouldn’t sleep well tonight.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Gabriel said. The kindness in his voice made my throat close up and I looked away.

“Cheaters,” I whispered. “I hate them.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I said it though, didn’t I? That he was probably married. Divorced, my fat ass.”

“Your ass isn’t fat.” Gabriel’s hand hovered over mine for a second. When I thought he’d pull back, he slowly let it settle down. It was a cool touch, refreshing. “Even before you knew, you felt it was wrong. Your instincts are good, Nathaniel.”

“I stopped him for a totally different reason.”

“The result is the same.”

I chewed on my lip and shook my head. Owen didn’t mean anything to me, I realized that now, and still I felt…dirty. My eyes burned.

“Ah, sweetheart,” Gabriel whispered. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing happened.” I shrugged, trying to hide how the endearment made me ache inside. “It was a long time ago.”

His eyebrow quirked in question. “Either it didn’t happen or it was a long time ago, it can’t be both.” When I said nothing, he went on, “Was it a boyfriend?”

Ah hell, what harm could it do to tell a ghost my one and only sad brush with romance. “Yes. I thought we were in love. I was wrong. There’s nothing else to it.”

“He cheated on you.”

“Yes.” I didn’t want to hash it out any further but I knew so much about Gabriel, about his heartbreaking tale. While my story paled in comparison, I instinctively knew he’d never see it as a competition. “In the grand scheme of things, it’s meaningless,” I said. “I’m better off without him, because he never wanted me to go ahead with the B&B idea. I was tempted to listen to him. He was so much smarter than me, so much more handsome.” Just like Owen, I thought. “I found out he was sleeping around. I ended it. That’s all there’s too it.”

“You got hurt.”

I shrugged. “Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

“Nathaniel?” Gabriel’s hand left mine and I looked up, afraid he’d disappear again, but he was right there, fingertips an inch away from my cheekbone. “I think you’re a very handsome man.” I began to shake my head but he stopped me with the gentlest touch. “You are,” he whispered, and his eyes went wide, startled, making me wonder what I was missing.

What I wasn’t missing was the spark of heat that raced from his fingertips to the core of my being. As I stared at him, lost in the depth of his eyes, it was as if he grew more solid.

“What’s happening?” I whispered.

“I…don’t know.” He blinked and withdrew his hand.

“Don’t go,” I quickly said. “I mean, unless you have to? Can you control…”

Some of the teasing light reappeared in his gaze. “I can come and go as I please,” he said. “For a few days at least.”

“Why now? Why only a few days?”

He looked away. “I don’t know.”

A lie, but I let it slide. “Then…won’t you stay? And talk? There’s still so much I’d like to know about you.” His face shuttered down. “Not—not about your death, if you don’t want to talk about it. But your life. What it was like as a Navy officer back then? What you did with your spare time? And 1915… Did you know you’d get involved in the First World War?”

Gabriel shifted and ran his thumb over the arm of his chair. He hesitated, then said, “We knew something was brewing, yes. But we had no idea about the scale of it. Of what would happen. It was…an adventure, almost.” He leaned back, rocking slightly, before going still and cutting me a quick glance. “You really want to know about me?”

“Yes.” I meant it with all my heart. He smiled, wide and guileless. “You’re very handsome too,” I blurted out and for a second his expression flickered. He looked vulnerable and open. It didn’t last long. He tugged at the cuffs of his suit, swung one knee over the other, and began to talk.

“So you want to know about 1915. It was certainly a different time, from what I’ve seen. Good in some ways and not so good in others. It was the year of the attempted bombing on the Vanceboro Bridge. And the first stone of the Lincoln Memorial was put into place.” He smiled gently. “I remember that very well. Babe Ruth hit a home run. But on the other hand…” His face grew very serious. There was a mesmerizing quality to his voice and for a moment I could see it in his eyes; the man who’d been in the Navy, who’d commanded people, who demanded their respect, knowing he deserved it. “Tens of thousands of people died in mine explosions. The Japanese were forbidden from owning property. As for the Navy… I was there when the occupation of Haiti began. It was France who had the closest ties with Haiti, but even then we started to feel the German influence.” He blinked at me, as if he suddenly felt self-conscious for talking so much.

“I wasn’t a very good history student,” I admitted sheepishly. I hadn’t been a very good student at all, really. More interested in practical things than anything else. I didn’t do too bad managing the books and bills of this place, so I figured I faired pretty well. I did feel a marvelous awe at sitting next to a real US Naval Officer who’d made history happen. “Babe Ruth is still a legend,” I said, wanting to lighten up the conversation a bit. “He’s one of the greatest players that ever lived. He established a lot of records. Two of them still stand, I think. He was a womanizer and a drinker, but he did a lot of good too. He has his own candy bar.”

“Really? I played baseball,” he said, laughing a little. “Casually, of course. But I was very good.” I tried to imagine him in the funny baseball outfits, but couldn’t. “I must be boring you,” Gabriel eventually said.

“What? No, not at all. I’d love to hear more. It’s so interesting. What else is different?”

He smirked. “Well, fashion certainly hasn’t improved.”

“
I
am comfortable,” I said, running a hand over my chest. “While
you
are all trussed up.”

Gabriel shrugged gently. “I’m used to it.” He rose to his feet and I followed suit. “It’s late. You should sleep. We’ll talk again soon, if you want.” He ducked his head, trying to hide his smile. I really wanted to see his hair all natural and loose. And maybe him in nothing but his shirtsleeves. I started to understand the appeal of Victorian novels promising glimpses of ankles and wrists. “I enjoy your company, Nathaniel.”

“I enjoy yours too.” I grinned and gave him a funny little salute. “Sir.”

His eyes twinkled as he laughed. “Good night.”

“Good night, Gabriel.”

He began to shimmer. His eyes never left mine until he was gone.

Chapter 5

“So I expect your night went well?”

“Huh?” I blinked at the kitchen window in front of me, then turned toward Elisa. “What? When did you get here?”

She parked her hands on her hips and made a ‘duh’ face. “About fifteen minutes ago. Seriously, I could’ve burgled the whole place and you’d never have known. Didn’t I tell you I’d be taking care of breakfast this morning?” She waggled her eyebrows. “Well? Did you have fun with Owen?”

And there went my good mood. “Do you mean before or after his wife called?”

She made a hilariously outraged face. “Oh my God, you’re not serious.” Coming closer she whispered, “That douchebag! Did you guys already—” She wobbled her head side to side. “—you know.”