Everlastin' Book 1 (22 page)

It wasn't
possible.

Someone was playing a very
cruel joke on her!

A sensation of scalding
fluid shooting up into her throat, she tried to scramble to her
feet, but her legs were like rubber.

Despite her desperation to
tear her gaze from the heinous scene, the chiseled words in front
of her seemed to close in.

FATE BROUGHT THEM TO
ME

FATE CRUELLY TOOK THEM
AWAY

REST IN PEACE MY
FRIENDS

CARLENE AND DAVID
CAMBRIDGE

9/3/1962 - 4/20/1993
10/11/1956 - 4/20/1993

A blood-curdling wail
escaped Beth.

This was
insanity!

What kind of a mind would
perpetrate this sort of prank?

Carlene and David
dead?

No, that was impossible!
She'd spoken to them on the telephone. Carlene had greeted her upon
her arrival from the airport! They had talked over tea! Talked
about the portrait!

And Carlene had even shown
her to her room on the third floor!

Angry denial entwining with
fear, Beth slammed a fist on the ground, and cried, “It's a lie!
Carlene!
Carlene!”

On her knees, her buttocks
braced on her heels, she clenched her fists in front of her and
repeatedly called out her friend's name until her raw throat began
to protest.

Weeping, she whimpered, “I
can't take much more of this.”

Anguish, disgust and fear
threatened to overwhelm her. Fighting with all her willpower to
pull herself together, she began to scoot back away from the
headstones. When she had only gone a few feet, her vision zoomed in
on the last headstone, standing to the left and alongside that of
Lachlan Baird.

The pulse returned and
pounded forcefully through her. The world swayed, while Beth,
herself, remained frozen in horror.

MY DEAREST LOVE

BETH MARIE
STAPLES

7/24/63 - 7/26/93

When her state of shock
waned, Beth released an hysterical laugh.

She wasn't dead!

Today was the twenty-sixth
of July!

But that dark moment of
humor evaporated to the fires of doubt. It could all only be a
fiendish prank, but....

Throwing back her head, she
released a long, guttural wail.

A wind came up around her,
as if from the bowels of the earth. Her fists clenched, her arms
held tightly folded against her abdomen, she stared at the
headstone bearing her name. She was angrier than she'd ever been.
Angry and feeling helpless and betrayed.

How could Carlene help
perpetrate a stunt like this? It was cruel, hideous—

“I tried to stop you,
lass.”

Jumping to her feet, Beth
whirled then stood as rigid as stone at the sight of Lachlan
standing a few feet away.

“Tis a hard thin’ to accept
at first,” he said kindly, compassion softening his features, his
hand held out to her. “Tis why I had you come here to Scotland, to
ma home, Beth. I couldna let you die alone, no' when I knew I
could—”

“Shut up!” Panting, Beth
glared at the man across from her. “This,” she charged, jabbing an
isolated finger at the headstones, “isn't funny! It's
sick!”

“Love—”

“Shut up!”

Inwardly struggling to bring
the violent trembling of her body under control, she glared
unflinchingly at the man she felt was responsible for the terrible
hoax.

“I'm leaving here, Lachlan,
and I pray to God I never lay eyes on you or this damn place
again!”

“If I hadna had to teach
tha' Ingliss swine a lesson at his place, I would have been here
sooner,” he said, his tone heavily laced with sorrow.

“You're insane!” Beth cried,
her tone throbbing with hysteria. She backed up two paces, a hand
held up to ward him off. “I'm going home!”

“You
are
home.”

Beth clamped her hands over
her ears.

“You
are
home!” Lachlan averred. “Deep
inside, you know you died—”

“No!”

“—
a week ago.”

“Shut up!
Shut up!”

“In yer sleep.”

“Damn you,
Lachlan!”

A tear spilled down
Lachlan's face. “I truly thought you'd have mair time than you did.
I wanted to tell you—”

Beth screamed to shut out
his words, but Lachlan persevered, “—but I was a coward. You were
dyin' in the parlor, Beth. I couldna stop wha' was happenin' to
you. Ma pleasurin' you was the only way I could help you through
the pain.”

Garbled denials rattled in
Beth's throat as she unsteadily sank to her knees. Lachlan rushed
to her. Placing an arm about her waist, he eased her up onto her
feet. When she buried her face against his chest and bitterly wept,
he hesitantly enfolded her within the security of his arms. Then he
raised his face to the heavens and squeezed his eyes shut to free
the renewed salty liquid testimony of his own anguish.

“Sweet darlin,” he choked,
smoothing the hair at the back of her neck. “I'm so sorry I couldna
heal you but it was too far beyond ma power. But death is no' an
end for us. You must trust me, lass. This is only our
beginnin'.”

With the vehemence of a
gale, Beth wrenched from his hold and began to pummel him with her
fists.

“Why are you doing this to
me!” she cried, its sound producing a rush of tears in Lachlan's
eyes. “I hate you! I hate you! I'm not—”

As if in slow motion, she
felt herself falling forward, falling and falling, and passing
through Lachlan as if he were nothing more than an image comprised
of air. She hit the ground, twisting and staring up at him in
horror.

He appeared solid. A look at
herself revealed that she was the image fading before her own
eyes.

A cry of such torment
prevailed from her, Lachlan cried out as well. Rushing to her, he
swept her up into his arms, observing her disorientation as she
watched herself becoming solid again.

“Hold onta me.”

She wrapped her arms about
his neck then buried her face against his shoulder and wept.
Lachlan cradled her against him, softly weeping himself.

“It's not true,” she sobbed.
“It's not true.”

“Wha' I would give to spare
you this.”

“I'm dreaming.”

Lowering his head, Lachlan
squeezed his eyes shut and kissed her on one of her throbbing
temples.

“I'll take care o' you,
Beth.”

A wheezing sound could be
heard from her concealed mouth, then a hoarse, “What have you done
to me?”

“Sweet Jesus,” he choked.
“I've only tried ta—”

“Keep me here,” she
interjected, looking up at him through lifeless eyes.
“You
brought me here to
die.”

C
hapter 8

“Have a cup o' tea,
darlin'.”

Beth was aware of a cup and
saucer being placed on a marble-topped coffee table in front of
her. Somehow she had come to be in the parlor, sitting on a Queen
Anne style settee with richly embroidered, pink-toned upholstery.
She could smell the enticing aroma of the tea. She could hear a
fire crackling in the hearth. She was aware of Lachlan's presence
close by, but her state of mind left her with a distorted
impression of everything around her.

Numbness cloaked her. It was
a blessed relief not to feel anything at the moment. How could she
begin to sort through what she'd earlier seen, and what had been
said since her arrival in Scotland?

To dwell on anything as
outrageous as—

Jet lag is no longer a
viable possibility.

Either she had lost her mind
during the flight, or insanity had run rampant through everyone she
had encountered since her arrival.

A prominent shiver coursed
through her, one of pseudo icy fingers fondling every nerve in her
body. Her blood became chilly mountain streams in her
veins.

“I know exactly wha' ye're
goin' through,” said a soft voice nearby. “Let me help you through
this.”

Beth's eyes rolled up in her
bent head to target the face of the man who had spoken. Lachlan. He
was crouched to her right, concern accentuating the angles of his
face. One of his hands was resting on her leg, just above her knee.
The other forearm was braced on the coffee table.

“Take a sip o' tea. It'll
take the chill ou' o' yer bones—” Lachlan had the good grace to
blush. Lifting the china cup by its delicate handle, he proffered
it to her. “Just one little sip. Come on, darlin'.”

To his astonishment,
she
poofed
away. He
gaped at the emptiness where she'd been a moment before. The hand
holding up the cup began to tremble, sloshing its contents. Jerkily
placing the cup back on the table, he slowly rose to a standing
position and momentarily closed his eyes with a mute prayer for
patience.

“It didna take you long to
learn tha' now, did it?” he muttered, looking about the room with a
shadow of desperation in his expression.

Beth could hear his voice
but it sounded far away and possessed an eerie vibrating quality.
There was endless grayness surrounding her, a universe of
nothingness, and such absolute stillness that panic squeezed her
heart.

Turning in place, she
wailed, “Lachlan! Where am I? Don't leave me here!”

“Step back through. Tis
easy, Beth.”

“There are no doors or
windows. I can't—”

The abruptness with which
she found herself standing in the parlor left her lightheaded. The
room began to spin slowly, then faster and faster. She grabbed onto
the back of the settee to steady herself, but the waves of
dizziness continued to pound unmercifully down on her.

“Steady,” Lachlan said
softly, drawing her into his arms and holding her head to the
hollow of one shoulder. “Tis frightenin' but it will pass. The
grayness is our restin' place. Tis there we gather the energy to
spend brief intervals in this world. You'll come to know it all,
darlin'. Just be patient.”

Beth clung to him out of a
need to feel the security of solidity. She was too full of fear to
hold onto anger at the moment. She wept bitterly against his
shoulder, her tears dampening the front of his shirt.

“You cry. You do wha’ever it
takes to get you through this adjustment period. I'm here for you.”
He caressed a cheek atop her crown, and peered upward. “You and I
have all the time in the world now.”

Snuggling her tighter in his
arms, he soothingly stroked the back of her hair. He wished he
could protect her tender emotions from this new reality. He had
often mulled over what her initial reaction might be, and he had
believed he had counseled himself to be strong when this very
moment came about. But her weeping lanced him, pierced him with
such poignant depth that he felt his phantom heart constrict, and a
sting of tears form in his eyes.

Then it struck him that he
would be able to hold her like this forever. The promise of an
everlasting companion, a mate for eternity, melted his anguish
beneath the heat of his rapture.

“We're thegither
everlastin', Beth,” he said a bit giddily.

Unraveling his arms from
about her trembling torso, he lovingly framed her face with his
hands and looked into the turbulent depths of her eyes.

“No one can ever separate
us. We can make love through countless sunrises and sunsets. Dwell
on the positive o' our existence, darlin'. It will lessen the ache
in yer heart for wha' has passed.”

He kissed her mouth at first
gently then more hungrily as his arms wound about her and molded
her to his body. Although the kisses were salty and wet from her
tears, he dined on her sweetness and the utter tenderness of her
shapely mouth. He wanted to make love with her, to fill her so
completely with pleasure she would temporarily forget that she had
passed on to a different plane of existence.

Actions, not words, would
convince her of her existing abilities to experience life. He had
found the gray plane at most times difficult, but then, he'd been
alone. She would never be alone, he vowed. She would never suffer
the terrible isolation of the grayness.

As long as they were
together.

Through the fibers of his
reverie came a realization. She was struggling in his arms,
grunting against his deep, penetrating kiss. Rattled by the abrupt
change in her, he lifted his head. The angry flush in her cheeks
prompted him to drop his arms to his sides. He could only watch as
she backed away from him, her eyes blazing as she contemptuously
swiped an arm across her mouth.

“I've finally figured it
out. You've been drugging me, haven't you?” she flung with
asperity, her body quaking with anger.

“Druggin' you? Beth
darlin'—”