tilwemeetagain Page 2

  It took all of a second for the phone to be filled with laughter. “How classic. Cassie’s got all hot and horny for a ghost. Only you...”

  “Hey, shut up,” Cassie retorted cutting in. Yes, crazy, but she needed some moral support. “I didn’t tell you it to make fun of me, jackass.”

  Another round of laughter continued before Stephanie gathered herself with a long deep breath. “Okay, okay, sorry. Well, have you tried talking to him?”

  “The ghost?” Cassie gasped.

  “No idiot, the neighbor.” Stephanie sighed. “Of course, the ghost.”

  Huh? “How do you talk to a ghost?”

  “Like I should know, I’ve watched a few of those ghost hunting shows. Wait until dead time¯which is like three in the morning by the way¯turn all the lights off and speak to it.”

  Oh yes, a wise idea.

  “Do you think it’s safe? What if it’s evil or something?”

  “Umm...” Stephanie paused. “Yeah, I got nothing. Maybe get rosary beads or something to protect you.”

  “Rosary beads, think it’d work?”

  “It always works in the movies.”

  True. Cassie had seen movies where evil spirits were warded off by a priest or blessed items. Maybe if she faced the ghost, realized it lived in her imagination, she could move. One thing was certain, if no ghost existed here, she clearly needed to get laid. Fantasizing over some non-existent man couldn’t get any more pathetic.

  “All right, tonight, I’ll try and make contact.”

  “Hey Cassie,” Stephanie’s tone, calm and reserved, “if he appears to you and you do the nasty with him, at least you don’t have to worry about protection.”

  Cassie snorted. “You’re so not funny.” Even though a chuckle escaped her as she ended the call.

  Chapter Three

  Ethan watched Cassie light candles around the bedroom. He’d heard half of the conversation she had on the telephone, however, he got enough out of it to know she wanted to make contact with him. A swell of happiness touched his heart, in more ways than one.

  No one ever cared enough to try. Why her? And one comment she made couldn’t be silenced in his mind, Because I don’t mind him doing it.

  Did she just admit she enjoyed him watching her masturbate? He wished it to be true. Glancing over to the clock on the nightstand, the bright green lights glowed three o’clock in the morning.

  Cassie settled herself on the floor with a candle in front of her. “Is there anyone here with me?” she whispered, scanning the room with fear in her eyes.

  He chuckled. Her fright both amused and impressed him because she had the strength to proceed. He approached, sat in front of her and waved his hand over the candle to extinguish the flame.

  “Bah,” she gasped, startled. Fumbling with the lighter, she managed to relight the candle. “Okay, freaky.” She glanced around the room searching out a reason the candle went out and Ethan saw the surprise rise in her eyes.

  “So—oo—o,” she stuttered, “if you put the candle out just now, can you not repeat it. I don’t think my heart can handle it being pitch black in here.” She paused. “Can you knock or something.”

  “Yes.” He wanted to tell her, “You’ll have to listen hard.” He could knock, but it wouldn’t hold much strength, quiet for living person’s ears.

  “All right—” Her voice came hesitant. “Will you knock if you’re here with me?”

  He did.

  Cassie’s eyebrows drew together and she cocked her head to the side. “Was that you?”

  Ethan used all his strength to bang his fist against the floor. Her head straightened up, her eyes wide and she paled before him.

  “I heard you,” she squeaked.

  “Good. I’m here.” He finally had her attention, his body tensed and he sat up straighter in anticipation.

  Cassie stayed quiet a moment, her gaze inquisitive.” Are you stuck here in the house?”

  “No.” He didn’t knock to confirm it.

  “So, if you’re not stuck in the house, why are you here?” She shook her head and laughed. “Right, you can’t answer me.”

  The sound of her laughter forced his to rise. She chastised herself and he found it endearing. All the reasons she appealed to him. Her personality had proven to give him much amusement.

  “Do you want me to help you?” she continued.

  He knocked, not quite sure how she could help him. Only knowing, she needed to acknowledge his presence.

  Cassie nodded to his response as if she’d expected it. Her cheeks flushed and she nibbled on the corner of her mouth, “Are you a man?”

  He gave a steady knock.

  “Have you been watching me?”

  Again, he confirmed her question.

  The subtle color to her cheeks now burned red-hot. “Did you watch me earlier, in the bathroom?”

  The bang against the floor sounded loud to him, even though she’d heard a slight tap.

  “Oh my goodness.” Her hands covered her face. “That’s so humiliating.”

  “No, it was fantastic.” Frustration grated at him and tensed his jaw. He wanted her to hear the enjoyment he received watching her pleasure. Yet, he had no way of telling her.

  She squirmed for a while before she lowered her hands. “All right, well, I’m going to pretend the event never happened so you do the same.” She released a long deep breath and the color in her cheeks dimmed. “I’ll do what I can to help you. I’m not quite sure what to do, but I’ll do something.”

  “It would please me if you did.” He touched her face, and she leaned into his hand making him believe she sensed him. He wished he could embrace her, although, even if she did save him from his personal hell, he would never experience her warm skin beneath his hand.

  He continued to cup the side of her face. If he pushed too hard his hand would go right through her skin, and the reminder only confirmed his current state of despair.

  Cassie closed her eyes, her lips parted as she exhaled, “Are you touching me right now?”

  He knocked.

  “I can feel you on my cheek. It’s so cold.”

  “But you are warm, my sweet.” He might wish to embrace her for hours upon end, however, he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He lowered his hand and she opened her eyes.

  A sweet smile spread across her face and Ethan could swear the sight of her happiness warmed his cold form. “I don’t know if you have to leave here,” she said, “If you can stay, will you stay with me tonight?”

  His fist came down hard on the floor. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He craved to have the acknowledgment she shared the unexplainable attraction between them, and it thrilled him she declared it now.

  Cassie blew out the candle, stood and went to the bed. She slipped under the sheets and Ethan came to sit¯ float¯ on the edge of the bed. He rested his hand on her thigh on top of the sheets so not to make her cold.

  “Good night.”

  He couldn’t remember what the sensation of sleep entailed. What it was like to wake each morning with the renewed strength of energy. Now though, it didn’t much matter, he enjoyed watching the beauty before him. Here, he could stay for all eternity.

  * * *

  Cassie spent the morning on the web searching for anyone to assist her with her current predicament. Yes, insane, and at first she’d wondered if it had all been a dream. However, she couldn’t discount what had happened. The ghost had interacted with her and asked for help.

  It shocked her to discover Savannah, Georgia was well known for ghost sightings. Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all.

  After hours of scanning the internet, she’d narrowed down the list to one person. A medium who lived in town. Christine Cox even had a website, Ghosts Are Friends. Strange, but true.

  Cassie placed a quick telephone call and Christine agreed to come to the house later to see what she could uncover. After the call, Cassie buried herself in her work to make it through the day.
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  Two more rooms done, dinner made, and Cassie’s muscles ached as she settled down to eat. Onto her last bite of lasagna, a soft knock at the door mirrored the chime of the grandfather clock as it struck nine p. m. Cassie threw her plate and silverware into the sink and ran toward the door. Once she opened it, her breath faltered.

  She expected an aged woman with long silver hair¯ a witch or something? The woman in front of her, however, could’ve been her best friend. Light brown pixie hair surrounded a round face with blue eyes that were pretty behind the dark eyeliner.

  “Are you Christine?”

  “Yes.” Christine offered a kind smile. “You must be Cassie.”

  Cassie attempted to return the smile, although, found it difficult. She doubted Christine held the ability to converse with ghosts. How could she with so few years behind her? Realizing she stood there saying nothing, Cassie widened the door and found her voice. “Please come in.”

  What could she do, turn her away? Christine’s visit had cost her three hundred dollars, and Cassie recognized she had made a terrible mistake.

  Christine stepped through the threshold and looked around. “Normal procedure is I take a tour of the house—”

  “Oh, go ahead,” Cassie interjected, closing the door with a slam.

  “Actually, I don’t have to. I feel him already.” Christine smiled.

  Cassie’s mouth dropped open. “You do?”

  “His essence is strong.” Christine strode toward the living room. “In here—yes—” Her words trailed off as she left a flabbergasted Cassie at the door.

  Recovering from her shock, Cassie forced her feet to move and joined Christine in the living room to find Christine sitting on the chaise.

  “It’s here.” Christine rubbed her hands along the soft crimson fabric.

  Cassie glanced around, looking for the ‘it’, but found nothing. “Sorry, what’s here?”

  “The ghost,” Christine replied. “It isn’t attached to the house.” She patted the seat’s cushion. “It’s attached to the chaise.”

  To most people, her words might sound insane. To Cassie, it made a whole lot of sense. Nothing supernatural had happened until the antiques had been delivered to the home. Plus, the connection she’d felt to the chaise at the store. Could it be the ghost himself which captivated her?

  “Do you want to know about him?” Christine asked.

  Cassie sat with a heavy thud on the couch across from Christine in disbelief. Cassie had suspected the ghost existed. Now, though, it hit her. Something she never believed in just became all too real. “You can do that?”

  Christine nodded and closed her eyes. “Let’s see. . . .”

  A few minutes passed while Cassie stared at her. Did Christine talk to him in her mind? Put out some kind of mental feelers? The minutes drew on and Cassie’s curiosity built. She couldn’t take the suspense any longer.

  “What’s he saying?”

  “He doesn’t speak to me like you’re thinking.” Christine opened her eyes. “It’s a message he sends, a word I’ll hear.”

  “Oh…” Cassie couldn’t wrap her head around the concept. What would he be saying? His name? The date he died? What in the world would a ghost need to get off his chest? She gave up trying to figure it out and moved along. “What message did you get from him?”

  Christine cocked her head to the side, her expression indecisive. “His name starts with an E. Edward. . . Evan. . . no…no…Ethan.” Her head tilted the opposite way, focused. “Ethan Thomas. He’s quite an old spirit, I’m guessing a few hundred years old, and he died during the Civil War.”

  Cassie couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from her lips. “You’re kidding, right?” How could he be so old and still exist? Freaked her out a little, yet saddened her to know he had been in such a state for so long.

  “It can be shocking to hear, but no, I’m quite serious. I’m not sure what has happened to him or why he’s attached to the chaise. I do get the sense he’s desolate.”

  Cassie’s heart clenched, hearing of his pain upset her more than it ought to. To know he’d spent all those years alone, and would do so for all of eternity, cut her deep. She needed a resolution.

  “Can we help him?”

  “By help him, you mean, send him to the other side?”

  Cassie considered her words. She should want him to cross over, however, why didn’t she? “I’m—well—”

  “I sense that too.” Christine gave a knowing look while she cut Cassie’s stumbling off. ”The connection you two have.”

  Cassie tried to make sense out of how Christine figured it out, and wasn’t thrilled she knew. Being connected to a ghost issued her a one way ticket to the mental hospital. She took safe haven in knowing if she could be claimed as mentally instable, so could Christine. “You can sense a connection from him?”

  “Yeah, he’s quite attached to you. I keep hearing him say your name. Maybe you’re the one who needs to help him move on?”

  Easier said than done.

  “And just how do I do that?”

  Christine shrugged. “There are lots of things you can do, but I’d suggest you try and talk to him.”

  “Yeah, been there, which brought you. You’re the one who’s supposed to talk with him.”

  “Apparently not,” Christine retorted. “He doesn’t want me. He wants you.”

  Leaving Cassie up Shit’s Creek.

  “So, what do I do?”

  “I would summon him back so you can speak face-to-face.”

  “Did I hear you right?” Cassie laughed

  Christine nodded.

  “Okay, I’m sorry, I’ve never believed in ghosts, and now you’re telling me I can summon him up and make him real again?”

  “No, not just you, Ethan has to want it too. I’ve never seen a ghost so attached to a living person before. Together, you can make it happen. It’s quite simple. You do a summoning spell at his grave. You’ll lend him some of your energy and the boost will bring him back into physical form. It’s important to find out what he needs from you before the energy fades away, or he’ll get stuck here again, and you won’t be able to bring him back.”

  A comment straight out of the encyclopedia of nut jobs. Without a doubt, Christine had more going on here than physic abilities.

  “What are you, a witch or something?”

  “Some might say so, I suppose,” Christine replied in a shy tone. “I just have connections to the ghost world. These spells have been passed down through generations of women like me.”

  Cassie couldn’t help but be intrigued. Was it possible? Would she meet Ethan? Did she want to? Yes, she did.

  “Tell me what I have to do?”

  Chapter Four

  At Bonaventure cemetery, Cassie kept her flashlight out in front of her. Her last words at the house were, “Help is coming.” She hoped Ethan heard her and understood she wanted to free him. Maybe some of her reasons were selfish. She’d become consumed with the need to meet him face-to-face and understand why she seemed so connected to him. The other reason, no one deserved to exist as he had.

  Christine stayed next to her as they walked the cemetery reading each headstone as they passed. An extraordinary cemetery, willow trees decorated the landscape between gothic tombstones. It looked old, pretty though, maybe even a little bit spooky.

  Cassie tried her best not to focus on the scary bit and kept her gaze on the headstones. They’d been here an hour now searching and had come up with nothing resembling Ethan’s name.

  “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

  Christine shrugged. “There are other cemeteries here in Savannah, however, this one is the oldest and is known to have Civil War soldiers laid to rest here.”

  With the question resolved, she came up with the next possible reason they hadn’t found anything yet.

  “Maybe you have his name wrong?”

  “No.” Christine shook her head. “He was quite persistent I get his name right.�
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  Cassie shook her head and looked back out toward the gravesites. A bit hard to wrap her head around the idea, but her old views had changed the day she brought the chaise back to the house. Normal just didn’t register in her mind anymore.

  One by one, Cassie continued to scan the headstones. Twenty minutes later, defeat sank in. They’d worked their way through the entire cemetery and came to the last row of graves.

  She passed by one and a tall monument came into view. The moment her flashlight illuminated its inscription, she froze in her tracks. Somehow she found words to escape her tight throat. “Ethan Thomas, Major 66th Regiment, Georgia Volunteers, Confederate States Army. Killed in battle near Atlanta, Georgia, July 22, 1864. Aged 25 years.” Her heart thumped in her chest and she turned back to Christine.

  “Oh my God, we found him.”

  Christine smiled. “We did.”

  Cassie dropped to her knees and rested over the top of his grave. She reached out and touched the old headstone. Her hand trailed across a sword etched into the stone with ribbon wrapping around it and a Southern Cross of Honor at the bottom. The granite was cold beneath her fingertips, but being there sent a warm energy blasting through her body.

  “What do we do?” she whispered.

  “It’s a two-step process.” Christine took a seat beside Cassie on the ground. “First, lay back on the grave.”

  Cassie did so and awaited further instruction.

  “Now, close your eyes and begin to breathe in and out through your nose. Let yourself relax.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  When Christine didn’t respond to her banter, Cassie figured she better get on with it and closed her eyes. After a few long, steady breaths, her body released some of its nervous tension and her heartbeat slowed.

  “Okay, now count backwards from your current age, out loud,” Christine went on. “As you count, breathe in for every three numbers, and let out one breath for every three numbers. Remember to hold the image of Ethan in your mind.”