Eternally Yours (21 page)

Geoff’s jealousy soared.

For an instant he debated dumping Mark’s coffee on his lap to foil the mood, but suddenly that sort of prank seemed childish. Why should he care how these mortals conducted themselves? What did anything matter in comparison with the mess he’d made of his existence?

When Mark released Lara, she stood and seemed to have trouble meeting his gaze. “I think I’ll just top off my coffee.

Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head and, with a wistful smile, watched her walk into the house.

Geoff hovered above feeling numb. For lack of anything better to do he decided to follow Lara inside. As she walked down the main hall she looked back over her shoulder toward the porch several times.

When she reached the kitchen, the telephone rang and she jumped.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?...Oh, Diane, am I glad to hear from you....No, no, nothing’s wrong, not really. Did you make it to Cape Hatteras all right?”

She listened to the party on the other end, nodding and making sounds of understanding. “Good....That sounds great....No, it’s really not that big of a deal--or shouldn’t be, anyway.”

Peering around the corner toward the front of the house, she shielded her mouth and whispered, “Mark’s here now so I can’t talk, but he just
kissed
me...”

Geoff raised his eyebrows. His descendant had certainly frazzled her. He supposed Mark must have of a bit of the Vereker mystique in him somewhere.

“Well, I don’t know what to think. It’s a long story, but I’m still not completely convinced things are over with him and Karen.”

She took another peek around the corner. “Yes, well, you would say that, wouldn’t you? Listen, I know this is a weird question, but do you think womanizing runs in families?”

The ghost frowned to himself. Was that aspect of his personality the only one she’d judge him by from now on?

“No, I suppose not,” she said. “Anyway, I’d better go. Is there a number where I can call you back later?”

Jotting down the information, she promised to call that afternoon and said good-bye. She started back up the hallway but swung around and returned to the kitchen. Grabbing her cup, she slopped a few extra ounces of coffee into it and hurried back out to the porch.

“That was Di on the phone,” she said breathlessly to Mark. “They made it safely to Cape Hatteras.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” His eyes held a question that had nothing to do with her friend. Geoff knew he must be wondering how soon to try kissing her again.

“I told her I’d call her later.” Looking away from his gaze, she perched on the edge of the swing, leaving more space between them than before. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about: the ghost. I know you don’t buy the idea, but I really need your help. To me it’s obvious that this problem affects both of us. For my sake, try to suspend your disbelief.”

He studied her with a sober air. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Well, I’ve been telling myself I don’t want anything to do with this, but I suspect we don’t have a choice. If that’s the case, we need a better picture of what’s going on.” She shifted slightly but kept her distance. “Did you ever take a closer look at the letter Mariah wrote–the one we found in the secret room?”

He frowned. “I’ve read it several times but, like I told you, I think that poem is nonsense.”

“Well, I don’t. I think the words may hold the key to finding rest for Geoffrey.”

Geoff’s ears perked up. By Jove, could she be right? The curse had been written like a riddle. He couldn’t remember how the verse went, but if there were a remedy for his circumstances, he’d wager anything that the poem contained it. He needed to see the letter again.

Mark made a face.

“I think we should take another look at it,” Lara said. “Please. Indulge me on this. What harm is there in it?”

He sighed. “I don’t like encouraging you to believe you’re being haunted, but if you really want to examine the letter, I’ll help you. Do you have the copy I gave you?”

“It’s in the studio. Will you look at it with me?”

“Might as well.” He rose. “While we’re in there, can I take another quick look at the secret room? Now that I know about the connection the place has to my ancestor, I’m curious to see it again.”

She hesitated then got up. “I guess so--as long as you don’t expect me to join you. I mean, I’ll wait in the studio in case you need me, but if something weird happens I can’t guarantee I’ll have the nerve to come in after you. I may just dial nine-one-one.”

He laughed. “In that case, I’ll only ask for your help if I need an ambulance.”

Geoff followed them into the house with as much trepidation as Lara--perhaps more. He dreaded re-entering that frightening room, but if exploring it might offer a chance at altering his wretched existence, he damned well would go through with it.

They reached the library, and Lara stood back while Mark fiddled with the mechanism in the bookcase. After a moment the door ground across the floor. She cringed, and Geoff empathized with her.

“I’ve still got your flashlight here,” she said as Mark looked around the bookcase. She snatched up the portable electric torch from her drawing table and handed it to him.

“Thanks.” He flicked on the switch and aimed the beam into the secret room. Wasting no time, he stepped through the entrance.

Geoff faltered then floated in behind him.

Mark directed the beam around the small space, examining the barren walls. When the light came to rest on the fireplace, he paused and stared for no apparent reason.

An unusual sensation--what he would have called tingling during his lifetime--struck Geoff as he gazed at the hearth. Was Mariah in the room? He concentrated on perceiving her presence and could feel her just beyond his reach.

The beam of light fluctuated as his descendant shuddered.

She is here.
Excitement coursed through Geoff like warm red blood in a living being. He knew that he was close to reaching his lost lover, and he found that he longed for the contact, even if her appearance upset him again. Real communication had eluded him for the last hundred years. Until now he hadn’t quite realized how lonely he’d been.

Mark seemed to be frozen, pointing the flashlight into the fireplace. As Geoff stared at the scene, recollections of making love to Mariah flooded his mind. He could almost feel her in his arms, her body small and pliant. Her mind had been lithe, too, he recalled. She had loved to listen to his poetry and offer her interpretations. In fact, she’d often given him insight into the workings of his own mind.

It was moments with her when he’d felt most like a legitimate poet--and most like a man. What he felt now, however, startled him: a heartrending yearning that he’d always managed to sidestep during his life.

“Mariah?” he asked aloud.

The only response was a glance over the shoulder from Mark.

Geoff ignored his descendant and scoured the room for some sign of his lover. He couldn’t see, hear or feel her. Desperately, he said to the air, “I didn’t know about the babe. I wish I had.”

“Mark?” Lara called from the library. Her voice sounded sharp and alive, somehow disturbing to Geoff. “Is everything okay in there?”

The mortal scanned the four walls around him. “Yeah. I’ll be right out.”

He aimed the beam of light at the fireplace again. The hearth stood quiet and lifeless. Frowning, he directed the light toward the back of the bookcase/door and walked out of the room.

Geoff lingered behind in the darkness, but without Mark there he no longer got a sense of Mariah’s presence.

“Mariah?” he whispered in spite of himself. The pain of desperation cut though his being.

The room remained still.

He waited a few more minutes, but somehow he sensed that she wouldn’t come to him on his own. So far she had made her points to him via Mark and Lara. He had an idea that if he wanted to get through to her, he would need their help.

Chapter 14

After taking a few minutes to pull himself together--and ensure that Mariah wouldn’t come to him after all--Geoff drifted back into the library to see what the mortals were doing.

“It’s here somewhere.” Lara sifted through a mass of papers on her drawing table and pulled out a sheet. “Here we are.”

She turned around and looked at Mark expectantly, but he just stood, gazing at her, expressionless.

“Everything all right?” she asked.

“Of course.”

She studied him more closely. “Are you sure nothing happened while you were in the secret room?”

He shrugged. “There’s just something creepy about the atmosphere in there, like you’ve said. Maybe it’s the isolation from the rest of the house--and the world.”

“So you still deny there’s a ghost?”

“I don’t claim to know anything about ghosts.” Frowning, he glanced around the room. “I guess we’d better sit down and look at that damned letter, if we have to.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “I think we do. Why don’t we have a seat on the couch--unless that’s too close to the secret room for you.”

His mouth twisted. “That’ll be fine.”

It was apparent to Geoff that Mark did have qualms about ghostly goings-on, but Lara didn’t press him to admit to his fears.

She walked over to the large red sofa. Choosing a spot in the middle, she sat down.

Mark had no choice but to sit fairly close to her and, when he did, the pillows formed a semi-cocoon around them. The effect looked intimate. Geoff could see that his descendant’s thigh was touching the lady’s, though the two layers of denim their clothing formed between them made the touch less tender than it might have been.

Lara held the letter out to him, and he took it, looking down to read it. His eyes darted back and forth as he skimmed the contents.

“I think the poem is the key area to study,” she said.

“Yes.” He cleared his throat and read the verse aloud with no sign of emotion:

“As you read these lines coming from the grave,

Despair of your own eternal rest to save,

Until you advance a love to stand in place,

Of the love you once had but chose to debase.”

On hearing the cruel words again, Geoff winced.

Mariah, he thought, shaking his head, how I wish I had spoken to you instead of running away.

“So she’s telling Geoffrey there
is
something he can do to find peace,” Lara said slowly. She looked off into space, clearly pondering the meaning of the words. “He has to ‘advance a love’ somehow--encourage a love. Between him and someone else? I doubt Mariah would have wanted
that
. Do you think she means he needs to bring two other lovers together?”

She and Mark looked at each other, and an idea struck Geoff.
Could they be the lovers I’m supposed to encourage?

The mortals seemed to have the same thought. Their gazes locked. For an instant they stared at each other, then both looked away at once.

Mark folded up the letter. “Well, it’s up to ol’ Geoff to work that one out, isn’t it?”

She turned away from him.

Obviously neither of them wanted to discuss the possibility, but Geoff was intrigued. He hated the idea of his descendant ending up with Lara--she was far too good for him--but if their union meant a chance for him to find peace, wasn’t it worth the sacrifice? The only question was what Mariah meant by telling him he must “advance” their love? How was he to advance someone else’s love when he’d made such a muddle of love in his own life?

“Is that a speaker tube?” The sound of Mark’s voice drew the ghost out of his reflections. The mortal gestured toward an iron device mounted on the wall. Getting up, he walked over to inspect it.

“Mmhmm.” Lara remained sitting. She kneaded her forehead as if trying to stave off a headache. “The pipe connects to the third floor. If I had servants, I could call them down to wait on us.”

He stood looking at the mouthpiece for a moment longer. “I see something new every time I come here.”

Their casual observations had a hollow tone, but Lara continued. “I’m still learning about the house myself.”

Mark wandered to the hearth. “I love the ornamentation around this fireplace. The work is so intricate.”

“It is. There are even hidden drawers in the surround. They’ve always been a favorite feature of mine.” Getting up, she walked over to where he stood and leaned down to pull out a compartment. “I have potpourri in here and matches in one of the others but couldn’t think of anything to keep in the rest. How many matches can one non-smoking person use?”

“Wow,” he said. He knelt and took a moment to play with the drawer, testing to see how well the facade blended into the wood around it.

Watching him, she smiled. “You make me remember how fascinated I was with the details of this house when I first moved in. It really is an amazing place. The years of...well, let’s just say bad memories made me forget how much I originally loved these rooms.”

Mark’s gaze roamed up to the top of the outside wall--the one she had planned to knock out for her addition. “Aren’t the carved chrysanthemums and dogwood flowers in the millwork of the molding great? There’s an Oriental influence in some Victorian architecture.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever noticed those particular details before.” She stared up at the exquisite design. “There are hundreds of the little buds! Looking at them, I can imagine myself in a wooden garden. ...How many hours of skill and loving patience must have gone into that work?”

Mark watched her but didn’t say anything. For a moment they both stood still.

She glanced at him, then looked downward. Without meeting his gaze she said softly, “I’ve decided against tearing down the wall.”

Good on you
, Geoff thought.

Mark stood without speaking or moving for a few more seconds. Finally, he asked, “Have you come up with another plan?”

“No, but I will.” She turned to face him. “The majority of my renovations will have to wait until next summer...but things don’t always go as planned.”