Eternally Yours (20 page)

I fear saying anything more. You threaten to make an honest man of me...

The letter cut off there, unsigned.

Staring at the paper, Mark whistled to himself. His jaded ancestor had nearly fallen for the ingenuous Mariah Sulley! The knowledge made Geoff seem considerably more human, despite the fact that he’d apparently never sent the letter. The old dog had probably turned tail and run away to Baltimore, putting Mariah safely out of sight and out of mind.

Mark had to admit he could understand that type of fear. How many times had he backed off from Lara, because he’d been afraid he’d get hurt the way he had with Karen? He wondered if Geoff had ever had an experience with love that had left him scarred. The poet’s reluctance to get involved with Mariah suggested it--in Mark’s eyes, anyway.

Folding the paper again, he shook his head. By leaving the letter unfinished Geoff may have given up his one chance at happiness. From what Mark had heard of his eventual marriage, it couldn’t have been satisfying. Family stories held that the poet’s wife had always derided his work. As a child, Mark had laughed over that. Now he felt sad.

He set the letter down on the coffee table and polished off the last of the wine. Finding the letter had done him good. Earlier in the evening he’d told Lara that matters weren’t always black and white, yet until now he had painted his ancestor that way. Now he suspected that Geoff’s passions ran as deep as anyone’s. He, Mark, had been the shallow one, clinging to his childhood impressions. With any luck, tonight’s experience had helped him grow up.

As he carried the glasses into the kitchen, it occurred to him that this new letter might alleviate Lara’s disappointment, too. Geoff’s unsent vows would prove to her that Mariah Sulley had meant more to him than the miscellaneous fans whose letters he’d saved.

He decided he would take the note to her in the morning and went to bed feeling satisfied. As he drifted off to sleep, life seemed to make more sense than it had in a long time.

* * * *

In contrast, Geoff endured a restless night--a fitting ending for a miserable day. Lara’s decrying her admiration for him had been enough to make him feel dismal, but then she’d refused to read the poem he’d tried to place in front of her and, finally, actually demanded that he leave her house. Not wanting to deny a lady’s wishes, he had gone back to Mark’s--only to have his descendant find that mortifying letter he’d written to Mariah a century ago.

Geoff had hovered above, straining to read his own long-forgotten words. As the note came back to him, so did memories of the day he’d written it, one of the most distressing of his life. He recalled sitting in his study for two or three hours, debating whether or not to go to Baltimore and leave Mariah behind. Even then he’d known that if he went he would never come back to her. He was too afraid. Once--as a mere lad--he’d confessed his naive love to a woman. His older, married lover had laughed in his face.

That was why in the end he had gone to Baltimore, eager to break Mariah’s spell over him.

Watching Mark pore over the letter had embarrassed Geoff. He’d never shared his feelings for Mariah with anyone, not even her. Whether or not Mark took his words seriously he couldn’t tell, but the mortal’s attentive posture had shown that the note grabbed his attention. Geoff wondered what the letter had meant to him.

Now morning was here and Mark tucked the note into his shirt pocket as he put the finishing touches on his toilette. He combed his hair and fetched his wallet from the dresser. Unquestionably he planned to take the letter somewhere. Geoff had a notion he meant to show it to Lara, though he didn’t know why. He’d been surprised when his descendant had defended him the previous night. Could that have been his motive now?

Curious, he followed Mark out into a flawless summer morning--sunny and temperate, with an occasional breeze to quicken the senses...assuming one had one’s senses. Mark stopped briefly at a bakery, where he made a purchase, then drove on to Lara’s house, as expected.

Perched above, Geoff watched him climb the steps to the porch. Mark glanced at the empty swing where the lovely divorcee had been sitting the day before, then he looked toward the house. The storm door stood open beyond the wooden screen door. Somewhere in the back of the residence, music played softly. Lara was likely working in her studio.

Mark rapped on the door frame and peered through the screen, obviously eager to see her. After a moment he tried the door. The latch didn’t budge.

He knocked again, harder, and called, “Lara, it’s me.”

“Just a minute,” a faint answer sounded in the distance.

A moment later the lady appeared in the hall. She wore a dreadful rumpled shirt that could have served as a man’s underclothing, along with tattered denim pantaloons, cut off at mid-thigh. Geoff frowned to himself. He wished she had a sense of how a woman ought to dress herself--in crisp, new satin and lace, for example, not harsh and bedraggled fabrics.

Yet as she ran a hand through her unruly curls he had to admit that, even tousled, she looked adorable.

“Mark?” She shaded her eyes against the morning sun. “What are you doing here?”

The mortal man grinned, ignoring the fact that her greeting had been less than enthusiastic. “I couldn’t resist stopping by. Hope you don’t mind. To try to make up for barging in I’ve brought doughnuts...and something else that may interest you.”

“Doughnuts?” The confusion on her face didn’t lift, but she opened the door to admit him. “Well, I suppose I could use something to go with my coffee.”

As she led him toward the kitchen Geoff floated behind them, feeling a twinge of guilt for intruding where he wasn’t wanted.

“Shall we sit out on the porch?” Mark asked.

She shot a surprised look at him over her shoulder. “You’re not in a hurry today?”

He shook his head, a sideways grin sneaking up on his lips. Their gazes locked for a moment, and something about his expression startled Geoff.

He is entranced by her
, he realized. Mark’s detachment was all a hum. Geoff looked more closely into the man’s eyes and saw a spark of fire in them. His descendant had lost his heart; he was certain of it.

The knowledge alarmed him. For the first time since Mark had come upon the scene, Geoff saw him as a real threat to steal Lara away.

He watched with concern as the couple got coffee in the kitchen and carried their cups out to the porch. Mark’s gaze followed Lara’s every move, no matter how mundane her actions. Geoff couldn’t understand why the fellow maintained such an aloof manner with her if he was well on his way to love. But perhaps he had answered his own question: The idea of love was a frightening prospect. Perhaps Mark would still be cowed by it.

“So what, besides the doughnuts, did you bring that’s supposed to excite me so much?” Lara balanced her coffee in one hand and slid a small wicker table around to the front of the swing. She took a seat, steadying the swing with her foot.

Mark sat next to her and set down his cup and the bag of pastries. “Maybe I should show you now, before we get our hands sticky.”

Geoff cringed as his descendant pulled the letter to Mariah out of his pocket. He hated having his private feelings bandied about. True, he’d occasionally let a thread of raw emotion slip into his verses, but he’d certainly never meant for this intimate letter to be seen by the public--or anyone. He had to wonder why he’d even kept it.

Mark gave the paper to Lara, along with a smitten grin. “Last night you seemed to be so disappointed by Geoff’s philandering that I felt terrible, too. Maybe this will help you see him in a different light.”

Eyebrows raised, she took the letter. “Don’t count on it.”

She read it in silence, Geoff studying her face for a reaction. As her gaze skimmed down the page, her expression gradually altered from one of curiosity to one of melancholy.

On finishing, she stared blindly at the letter. He saw her blink back tears.

Mark frowned. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy to find out he cared for her after all.”

“It’s just so sad. None of this had to happen--the pain Mariah suffered, her untimely death, the curse she put on Geoffrey--”

“Wait a minute. We still don’t know how she died. And what curse are you talking about?”

“The one in the poem she wrote.” She thrust the note back at him. “It was evil of her, but she did it in the heat of anger. Unfortunately, a curse probably can’t just be taken back later.”

“So you have read the rest of that letter.” He took the paper and refolded it. “Well, the way I see it, melodrama was simply part of the
belles lettres
of the day. I doubt that she really believed she was sentencing a man to purgatory.”

Geoff winced. The mortal could go on fooling himself, but
he
knew the truth of the matter. And Lara was right about the needlessness of it all. What if he had sent the unfinished letter to Mariah, if he had stayed with her instead of going to Baltimore? How would his life had played out differently? Where would he be now, in death?

“Even without the curse,” Lara said, “you must see what a shame their story is. Geoffrey might have been a lot happier with her than with that wife who burned his journals. I’m sorry--I know it’s your great, great grandmother, but what kind of widow does that? If he’d trusted in his feelings for Mariah, both of them might have lived longer and more meaningful lives.”

The reference to Deborah particularly stung Geoff. During his life she’d never been a partner to him, let alone a mate. Nothing had ever hurt him so much as when she’d burned his journals. Those essays had contained his life’s story, his legacy. As a ghost he was now immortal in a way, but the only immortality he’d wanted had gone up in smoke with those journals.

“Yes, I thought that, too,” Mark said.

“You did?” Lara’s gaze shot to meet his.

He nodded and set the letter on the table. “But it’s all water under the bridge now.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Geoff felt the most absurd he ever had, having his life analyzed and second-guessed, especially when the people examining his decisions seemed to see them more clearly than he ever had.

Mark twisted his mouth. After a moment he picked up the sack of baked goods and held the open end out toward Lara. “Would you like a doughnut?”

She looked into the bag and chose one iced with chocolate.

Shrugging off the worries of the world is fine for some
, Geoff thought with resentment. While the mortals ate pastries he ruminated with agony over his farce of a marriage, his dissatisfaction with his family, and his current struggle for peace. He was forced to admit that the only part of his misery that he could blame on Mariah was his ghosthood; the blame for the rest of the mess lay squarely at his feet.

In fact, maybe all of the blame did. If he’d sorted out the rest of his life, Mariah might never have cursed him.

The sound of Lara’s laugh drew his attention back to the mortals.

“You’ve got powdered sugar on your nose,” she said to Mark.

“Where?” He swiped at his nose but only smeared more of the white dust on it.

She laughed again. “Now it’s worse.”

Leaning forward, she rubbed the powder off with her thumb. With their faces so close together, their gazes locked. As she stared into his eyes, her smile faded. She started to back away, but he caught her hand in his.

He bent closer and kissed her.

Geoff winced. The kiss was gentle and slow--not ardent but full of emotion, nonetheless.

When Mark pulled away, Lara looked down at her doughnut. She cleared her throat. “There’s something I need to ask you. It’s important for me to know if we’re going to keep...um, getting together like this.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

After a pause, she looked him in the eye. “Are you back together with your ex--that is, with Karen?”

As distraught as he was, Geoff found it hard to care about this turn in the conversation. Still, he noticed a flicker of a smile touch Mark’s lips before he answered.

“Of course not. Why do you ask?”

She cast her gaze downward again. “I had a feeling you were.”

“Your intuition fails you.” His grin still threatened to break, and Geoff felt a twitch of annoyance with him. The fellow might well act tickled over the lady’s interest in him. He didn’t deserve her.

Studying him, she asked, “Did you have dinner with her last night?”

The shadow of a smile faded, replaced by a look of mild surprise. He shook his head. “I ate with my parents, at their house.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.” His air changed to one of consternation. “Is there something on your mind, Lara?”

She swallowed. “I actually should have asked you last night, but I felt kind of stupid, and then we got so caught up with the letters I never got around to it.”

“To what?”

“To telling you that I almost stopped by your place yesterday afternoon. You left your watch here--oh, that reminds me.” She rolled up her sleeve and undid the buckle on a thick leather strap. Taking the watch off, she gave it to him. “I’m sorry I forgot to give it to you last night.”

“That’s okay.” He took it and wrapped the band around his wrist. “But what is it you really wanted to talk about?”

She moistened her lips. “Well, I actually drove to your apartment yesterday. But when I got there I didn’t think I should go in. I saw Karen walk into your building ahead of me carrying a casserole dish.”

“Really?” He looked up at her, and a short burst of laughter escaped him. “Well, I wasn’t home all afternoon. If Karen planned a surprise dinner, she ended up with the surprise.”

Lara watched him closely. “You
would
tell me if you were back together with her?”

“That’s an ‘if’ that’s never going to happen, so you don’t have to worry about it.” He smiled at her, and she held his gaze, apparently still in doubt of his word.

The scene had started to bore Geoff--then his descendant leaned forward and kissed her again. This time he met her mouth with more hunger, reaching up with his doughnut-free hand to cup her cheek. She let him part her lips with his tongue, and a soft moan escaped her.