How To Bring Your Love Life Back From The Dead Page 9

  “There’s a life-size painting of him,” Ana said, turning her head to rest her cheek on the desk.

  “Oh. Hmm. Still probably a hoax but that’s most likely why the connection in lore. Crap. We want real haunting. Murder. People like murder. Well, not the people murdered, but our groups will eat it up. I’m not sure I can get behind a hoax, though.”

  It really wasn’t a hoax, but she wasn’t about to say that.

  Ana’s cell phone rang, and she picked it up in order to look at the display. If it was this Tyler guy that her mom was setting her up with, she was going to brush him off even if she answered. Whoa. The library. Maybe Shane had learned how to use the phone. Okay, she was losing her mind.

  “Hello,” Ana answered.

  “Hello,” Lara sang out. She was far too happy for this early in the morning. “I must have missed your visit yesterday, but I hope your research is going well.”

  “Err…yes. I borrowed that book. The one you said I could borrow.” Why did Lara think she’d been at the library the previous day? The missing book? There was no way she’d swallow her pride yesterday and go back to the library. Even if Shane couldn’t appear, he’d know she’d been by. Yesterday was far too soon. He’d stomped around. Pointedly. Deliberately. Emphatically.

  “Oh. That’s quite alright. Quite alright. I was just calling to let you know that you dropped a note when you were here yesterday.”

  “What?” Ana asked.

  Jenny looked down at her for an explanation, but Ana shrugged.

  “There is a note with your name on it that was left on the corner of the table in the special collections room. I thought it might be scrap or a grocery list, so I hope you don’t mind that I peeked at it.”

  A note? Had she left a scrap of paper behind? She’d been in a bit of a rush the night she’d stormed out of there. Thankfully, she’d already put the rest of the books away by that point. No, she was almost positive she hadn’t left anything. But…a note? No. She hadn’t. No one sent her notes.

  No one alive anyway.

  “That’s fine. Whose signature is on it?” Had Shane really sent her a note? Could ghosts do that? He wasn’t a very conventional ghost if so.

  “Just the letter S, but it’s addressed to…uhh…Little Mouse if that helps narrow it down,” Lara said.

  Ana felt her face get bright red. Hopefully the note hadn’t made the complete rounds of the librarians. She could imagine Carly calling her that behind her back.

  “It’s really very sweet,” Lara added. “I remember those days.”

  “Umm…yeah, that’s mine. I’ll be down to pick it up later.” After saying goodbye, she hung up and stared down at the book. Jenny was still reading over her shoulder, but Ana could feel the curiosity humming through her.

  “So, more research at the library?” Jenny asked.

  “Yes, but first, we need to track down how he died,” Ana said, flipping back the pages.

  “Who?”

  Ana stabbed a finger down on the page with the name of her tantruming, note-writing ghost on it. “Him.”.

  Dear Little Mouse,

  I’ve missed you and apologize for my abysmal behavior. My best excuse is that I’ve lived too long with my own company to behave politely when surprised. Please meet me in our usual spot so that I can explain myself much better than I did that night. I promise to devote all my energy to obtaining your forgiveness by either fair means or foul. I’ll be gentle with you. Well, as gentle as you’d like me to be.

  Yours, S—

  Hopefully, she got the note. He remembered enough from the daytime to know that the older librarian picked it up off the desk and carried it off with a smile after reading it. It was unlike him to be nervous, but Shane couldn’t seem to force himself to step away from where he’d materialized. What if she wouldn’t forgive him? It’s not like he could force the issue. He couldn’t chase her down to convince her. He’d have an easier time moving the moon in its orbit. He’d hidden the remainder of the pencils. Maybe another note. And another. And another. He had eternity, so why not?

  “So, are you going to stand there all night or do you want to hear what I’ve learned?” Ana asked, leaning against the end of a nearby bookshelf. She had a coy grin on her face that seemed a bit shaky from nerves.

  In answer, he strode over and pulled her tight against him for a kiss. He could never upset her again. She felt right in his arms, and his existence had seemed pointless without her. She slipped her arms around his neck and stood up on the tips of her toes. This felt good. It felt right. Perfect even. Better than he deserved. Then, she opened her mouth and brushed her tongue against his. Far better than he deserved. Kissing had never been so satisfying.

  Shane pulled away slowly, enjoying the sensation of her soft lips clinging to his.

  “I want to do this all night, but I’m afraid it drains my energy quickly,” he said. Damn it all.

  She reached down and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the table in the center of the room. “Come look.”

  “Wait. Before anything else…do you forgive me, little mouse? I was a complete and total ass, and I’m so sorry.”

  She waved it off as if it was nothing, clearly excited about something in the book she’d taken with her.

  “Analise.” They had time to study whatever history she was interested in, but he wouldn’t spend another day wondering if he’d ruined everything—even if his daytime self wasn’t completely sure what this ‘everything’ was. He’d found his soul here in Ana. It hadn’t taken long, but last night, sitting here, without her…. Sometimes, you had to lose something to recognize its worth.

  Ana looked at him, blinking her green eyes. Her full lips already looked thoroughly kissed but as if they needed more. He needed to kiss them more. The riotous curls of red framing her face were begging him to slide his fingers into them. If only he had more energy, the things he could do with his Ana.

  She licked her lips. “I didn’t know that you couldn’t leave here until this morning, and I might have over-reacted.”

  “No, I was being immature, but I wasn’t expecting to talk about that.” He should have been.

  “You mean how you died?”

  Swallowing the acid that always seemed to accompany the thought of his death, he nodded.

  Ana tapped the book. “You know. I’m trying to figure out what happened to you without prying into that.”

  Had she found out about how he died? How would it be to finally know? He’d prepared himself for seeing the words in a book. He’d looked through every book in this collection hoping for a single book to escape the censor who’d placed them there. It was surprising that the librarians had never tried to find other—complete—copies. Still, preparing himself to read it in a book was different from hearing the words out loud. It was as if he wasn’t really dead until someone confirmed it.

  “So, you know how I died then?” he asked.

  Ana frowned down at the book, biting her lip. “Actually, I can’t find anything—any proof of what happened to you.” She met his eyes and said on a sigh, “So, you’ll have to trust me, Shane. I want to know what happened to you. I think my family is hiding something to do with it, and I have to know that we—I mean, my family didn’t kill you.”

  Her words stunned him. Her family? He and Charles hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye but he wasn’t kidding when he’d said he didn’t believe Charles capable of murder—despite what had happened with Agnes.

  “If you don’t want to tell me, I can keep looking…or stop looking. I mean, this happened a long time ago, and maybe you don’t care.”

  Did he? Would it matter if he knew how he died? It’s not as if it would change the fact that he was dead. On the other hand, it was likely he’d been murdered or they’d have found his body. If Charles was to blame—even if that seemed highly unlikely, he’d want to know that he’d placed his trust in the wrong man. After a century of having no knowledge of how he’d become a ghost, he might know, and mayb
e that was the secret to moving on with his life—or his death rather. Any way he considered it, he most definitely wanted to know. Even though it wouldn’t matter—it would matter a great deal.

  “Analise,” he said, taking her hand in both of his. It was time to share this with someone. He did trust her. She was a good person. A much better person than him, in life or during this half-life. Shane hadn’t exactly searched for any redemption this past century. “I have no idea how I died.”

  “What?” Her sweet mouth dropped open in shock.

  Embarrassed, he shrugged and let go of her hand so he could pace. “It’s true. I’ve been searching for a hundred years to find out what happened, but you’ve noticed the abridged books in here.”

  “So, you weren’t in a fight with someone when it happened…or on the edge of a cliff…or out on a boat?”

  “No. One moment, I was in my bedroom, reading a book, and then I was here in front of my painting…an apparition.”

  “Well, how much time had passed?” she asked, worrying her lower lip with a finger.

  “How the hell should I know? It’s not as if someone was waiting here with a watch to show me, saying, ‘Hello, Shane, it’s midnight and you’re dead.’” Wincing, he apologized, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be short with you. After a hundred years, it’s still a shock to be dead, and I keep hoping for closure in the way of knowing what happened.”

  “So, do you want me to help you?”

  Did he? It was one thing to find out himself, but quite another to have her doing the searching. Without help, he might never discover the truth, though. Plus, it would give him time with Ana.

  Nodding, he said, “I’ve hoped also that knowing might help me be done here.”

  “Done?” Even in the dim light of the private collection, he could see her pale at the thought. She had to realize how doomed this relationship was, though, didn’t she?

  “I’ve been here a hundred years, Ana. If it were possible for me to have died of boredom, I would have. My days are spent in a half-life and my nights I’ve spent reading these books, sometimes three and four times.”

  “What about me?”

  What about her? Perhaps that was the cruelest part of this. He’d have to let her go because he certainly couldn’t expect her night visits to the library to go on forever. She was young. She was beautiful. She deserved so much more. He couldn’t leave, and she shouldn’t stay. Doomed.

  “You need someone living.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and turned away from him to gain some composure.

  “If I could be even half the man you need, little mouse….” He trailed off. There was no way he’d be able to give her what she deserved, and his Ana deserved every happiness in the world.

  She nodded, inhaling deeply. “Okay, but we won’t talk about it right now.” When she turned back, her eyes were shiny with tears that she was holding back.

  *****

  It was almost enough to make her wish she hadn’t started this crusade to find the truth. If the truth took Shane away, it would taste like ash rather than victory. On the other hand, he was right; she couldn’t expect him to stay here forever. If he could leave the library, that would be different.

  “What did you find?” he asked, stroking her cheek with the back of a finger. The cold felt good against her cheek. He made her hot and cold all at once, and she couldn’t imagine losing him.

  “Actually, can I ask you a question first?”

  He shrugged acceptance.

  “Was my great, great grandfather, I mean, Charles, keeping a journal when you were alive?”

  “Yes. That was the way he was,” Shane said, starting to pace. “He was obsessive about those journals actually. He recorded everything in them.”

  “Was there anything that he’d done that might have been so detrimental to his name that he’d insist future generations never reveal the journals to any but the head of the company?”

  “What?” Shane sputtered, stopping mid-stride. “Ana, your great, great grandfather was not nearly as interesting as the actions you’re ascribing to him. Charles was ambitious and could be ruthless, and I wanted to shake him on a daily basis, but there was nothing that would need to be kept secret after his death.”

  Okay, that was what she’d have assumed before she’d followed all the paths of information today. They led in endless loops. She’d even made a trip to Hope’s Bay, the next city over, to look at their local history section.

  “What if Charles did kill you?”

  “Ana....”

  “No, hear me out, Shane. What if he used something like poison and killed you and hid your body?”

  “This is a rather gruesome line of questioning considering we’re talking about me,” he grumbled, scowling. Whatever. She’d come to realize upon reading that note he’d left for her that he was all bark and no bite—and that he could apologize when warranted. This was a rather morbid topic, but important. It was best to shove through it and hope he’d trust her.

  “What if that came out today or tomorrow in the news? What harm would that do?”

  “Harm?” he repeated.

  “Well, clearly no criminal charges could be placed, correct? He’s dead and you’re…not around to prove anything. So, it’s not as if authorities could charge someone for….” It was hard to avoid the words while still discussing the topic.

  “They couldn’t charge him with my murder, you mean,” he said with a sour face.

  She wanted to swat him and tell him to stop being a big baby, but she took a deep breath, and let it out. He was dead—that had to piss one off. “Yes, fine. What would happen to the company if it was discovered Charles got control of the company by killing you? Would it revert back to your family?”

  He clenched his jaw, and his shoulders tightened up. “I have no one, nothing to show for my life as far as relatives go. Things were different back then. I lost my family in a cholera outbreak that wiped out most of the town. If I had any family—even very distant—they’d have no hold on the company.”

  “So, if I discovered the truth, it wouldn’t change anything outside of this room?”

  She could see his mind working furiously. He went back to pacing before stopping and saying, “No. I can’t say that it would. Why?”

  “Yesterday, I went to see my cousin Max who is the owner and CEO of the company. I asked him for Charles’s journals, hoping that the answer to all this was written in them.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  “He wouldn’t let me look at them.” It still outraged her. He’d accused her of wanting to sell off their family possessions and then he’d all but thrown her out of his office. “He said only the current head of the company was allowed to see them.”

  “Curious,” Shane said.

  “I know!” Reaching into her bag, she held up the next oddity. “I stole this book from another library.”

  Shane smiled at her—his grin wide and amused. “How audacious of you, mouse. You’re asking about century old crimes while perpetuating your own.”

  Yes, she felt somewhat bad about that, and she intended to return it. “Does it look familiar?”

  He picked it up, running a finger down the spine. “A History of Crime in Hartford County 1870-1940,” he said. “Yes, we have this book here. It’s mostly a hodge-podge of court cases.”

  She felt like a child with a gift to give as she waited for him to do what she did when she found that book—one that she’d looked through here in this collection. Shane opened it and thumbed through its pages. He frowned when the book fell open to certain pages—the pages immediately following gaps in the chronological order of pages.

  “Pages are missing?” he asked, while double-checking this finding. “But…how? Why? Why would anyone take the time to censor a book in a different library?”

  “Not just any book either—this wasn’t a book from within my great, great grandfather’s lifetime. That means the same person who has been editing boo
ks that come here—did the same in this other library.”

  “For what purpose?” Shane asked, setting the book down.

  That wasn’t something she’d figured out. Why would someone edit the content of a book? “To hide something,” she said.

  “Obviously.” What did he mean it was obvious? Okay, she shouldn’t be offended. He was clearly as startled as she was—and perhaps more so. “What, though? What would need to be hidden for years after it occurred? Even murder would have died with the murderer.”

  “One more thing.”

  “There’s more?” His voice squeaked in surprise. It was such a little thing, but in light of the fact that Shane kept up this image of masculine arrogance it seemed doubly charming.

  Her comment forgotten, she cocked her head and looked at him. It would be so easy to fall completely in love with him. She was almost there. Maybe she was there, and she was lying to herself. Then what, though? He was right. This couldn’t go on forever. On the other hand, would there be a time when she could let him go because it was the right thing to do?

  No.

  She already felt as tied to this library as he was. She couldn’t.

  “What?” he asked, cupping her cheek with his hand. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  She grinned. “I don’t believe you have a penny.”

  His laughter, deep and rich, made her heart skip, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and kiss him. It all felt so right. Her mind kept begging her to be cautious, but her heart was saying, “Go, Ana. Go for it.” Then, there was her body, which curled around him, and her mouth which drew his lower lip between her teeth and bit down.

  Shane jerked against her before sliding his arms around her. “Ana,” he murmured against her mouth.

  *****

  His energy was pouring from him. He needed to stop. But there had never been anyone like Ana. She kissed with such wanton abandon. Perhaps this was the behavior of all modern women, but it seemed a contradiction in one as cautious as his Ana. One more kiss turned into two which slipped into three which ended in him wanting to bury himself in her and never leave. This couldn’t be happening. Her hands slipped into his shirt, touching his ribs, skimming across muscles.