“Go on,” Nanette instructed. “Don’t worry about searching for information now. If you get more time later, then you can try to find something.”
The laughter got louder, and he stood. “I think you’re right.” Finishing off his cup of coffee, he placed his mug in the sink. “I may already have a letter.”
Nanette crossed the kitchen and hugged him, and his face was suddenly smothered in her thick black hair. “Tell me all about her when I get back,” she said, then turned and exited through the back door.
Dax watched her climb into her old red Camaro, and smiled. The Vicknairs may not have a lot of money to spare, with every dime going into keeping the house from falling in, but even if they didn’t drive the newest cars around, they sure enough drove the coolest. Or in Nan’s case, the fastest.
He watched her head out, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake, then examined the sky. It was growing darker as late afternoon turned to evening, and he hoped that his ghost would show soon. He’d always had a soft spot for kids, whether they were breathing or not.
Dax exited the kitchen, then made his way up the stairs to the rose-tinted sitting room. The tea service was void of an envelope, but he’d barely crossed the room when a pale purple letter materialized in its center.
“Perfect timing,” he said, stepping forward to verify the fact that the name on the outside, written in his grandmother’s swirling script, was his.
Dax.
Adeline Vicknair’s favorite scent, magnolia, wafted from the stationery. Sitting down on the red velvet settee, Dax picked up the envelope, and the giggles in his head immediately ceased. He opened it and withdrew the usual three sheets of paper composing a medium’s assignment. The top one, on pale purple stationery with a scalloped border, was his grandmother’s letter.
Dax read the information at the top of the page.
Name of Deceased-Priscilla “Prissy” Fontenot.
Reason for Death-Car accident.
The bottom of the page identified what the young spirit had to do to cross over.
Requirement for Passage-Making sure her father is okay and telling her parents goodbye.
Dax nodded at the familiar requirement. Often, particularly in the case of an accident, a ghost would want to let the person who felt responsible for their death know that they weren’t hurting on the other side, that they were, in fact, in a better place and that they would see each other again. What’s more, a ghost could view those they were close to on this side from the other realm. That fact always seemed to ease the minds of the loved ones who remained here.
Dax frowned. Ghosts could see individuals that they were close to on this side. Could Celeste see him? Did she ever try? And would he be able to sense her watching? Surely he would sense something if she were, wouldn’t he? But he hadn’t felt her at all, not since the day she left.
Frustrated with that realization, he dropped the purple page on the couch, then moved to the second sheet. As usual, it listed rules for dealing with the spirits. Naturally, he knew them all, but since he was required to read the pages in their entirety before his assignment officially began, he read them again. They were pretty basic. Take care of the spirit’s needs in a timely manner, don’t abuse the bonding that occurs between medium and spirit, and don’t touch a spirit.
He dropped the sheet of rules on top of the first page and moved to the final page, the official document directing his grandmother to assign Prissy Fontenot to one of her grandchildren. His assignment, like the rules, was straightforward and to the point. Basically, he had one day to make sure the young spirit took care of her business on this side and headed toward the light.
One day. Not much time for visiting, but the spirits seemed to know best when it came to ghostly requirements for crossing. Maybe the little girl would get too attached if she spent longer with her parents before crossing, and then find it harder to go to the light. Or maybe someone was waiting for her on the other side, and she needed to get there quickly. There were all types of reasons that the powers that be could have given Priscilla-Prissy-Fontenot such a short time to fulfill her requirement for crossing. But at least the requirement was an easy one, and one Dax could help her with in a prompt manner.
If she only had to see that her father was okay and say goodbye to her parents before she crossed, Dax could tell her how to visit them. They wouldn’t be able to see her, of course, but they’d still feel her presence. Once she saw they were all right, she would immediately cross over.
He refolded the pages and tucked them back in the envelope. How long before the little girl showed?
“We’re here,” a small voice whispered from behind him.
Dax’s first thought was…we? Then he turned and saw a tiny girl, smiling softly, with a beautiful golden-haired beauty holding her hand.
Celeste.
Her hair was as long as he remembered, the blond spirals touching her waist. Last time he’d seen her, she’d been wearing a yellow tank top and jeans, but now she wore a loose white gown that barely clung to her shoulders and was so sheer, he could almost-almost-see if she was a real blonde.
A whirlwind of questions cluttered Dax’s mind. How was she here? And why? Hadn’t she crossed already? And why was her clothing different? Because she’d crossed over entirely? Or was it something else?
Was she even here? Or was his mind merely seeing what he wanted-desperately wanted-to see.
She smiled, and Dax knew this was no fantasy. She was here. His ghost had returned.
“Celeste.”
2
DURING EACH of her trips to that middle room, Celeste had dreamed of seeing Dax again, had planned what she’d say, what she’d do. Now that he was right in front of her, her throat was dry, her knees were weak, and her entire body burned to get closer, closer to the only man who’d truly touched her heart, so much that even on the other side, she hadn’t been willing to let his memory go.
And she could touch him.
Celeste ached to reach for him, to run her fingers down the strong features of his face, brush her mouth across his and get to know him in the most intimate of ways, but she still didn’t know if he felt for her what she felt for him. And she suspected that Dax had no idea that the no-touching rule didn’t apply to spirits.
The tiny girl beside her squeezed Celeste’s hand and reminded her of the main reason she couldn’t act on impulse right now. She couldn’t even attempt to confront whatever existed between the two of them until they took care of Prissy.
“Celeste?” Dax’s hazel eyes were as mesmerizing as she remembered, dark brown lashes further emphasizing the golden flecks around their center. Those eyes drew her in, held her captive. He looked so good, so real, so alive. And there was something deeper in those eyes, an intensity that she believed she recognized and understood. Desire. The way he was looking at her…was exactly the way she was feeling toward him. As though he couldn’t wait to get as close as possible, and to do all of the things they hadn’t done before.
She forced herself to swallow, then nodded.
“You-haven’t crossed,” he said, his head shaking slightly as he made the statement, as though it wasn’t possible that she was standing in his grandmother’s sitting room, in the very place where she’d met him before, with another little girl by her side.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asked, stepping toward her, and one corner of his mouth quirked up in that semi-smile she remembered. She licked her lips and imagined teasing that sexy smile with her tongue. There were so many things she wanted to try, wanted to do.
“I’ve wanted you-wanted to see you-again.” His head shook again, still apparently trying to determine how she’d returned. “Where have you been?”