Chapter 45

 

All right, she was weak. She was tacky. She didn’t care. She went to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of wine and opened a box of chocolates. She chose one with a caramel filling. Decadence--her idea of comfort food. Then she went out on the deck to enjoy her goodies.

The June air was warm, but not hot. She kicked off her sandals and wiggled her toes. From her vantage point on the hill, she could look down on Ruby Riverwalk. Tourists clogged the sidewalks. A good thing. Emerald Hills’ survival depended on them. She was thankful that she merely had to provide weavings and quilts for other peoples’ shops and not work behind a counter every summer day. Up here on her hilltop perch, she was away from the hustle and bustle, tucked away in her weaver’s paradise.

She sipped her wine and fretted. Would Rachel be all right with weaving? Her daughter viewed her destiny more as a life sentence of misery than a career of fulfillment. And what about Josh? What would she say to him when he called tonight? Thoughts tumbled through her mind, jostled and messy, until Gabe materialized on the bottom step.

“Are you all right?”

“Not really. You were there in the studio. You heard Rachel. I’ve trained her to be a weaver, but I’m not sure she’s right for it.”

“That was a sad weave.”

“It was awful. I understand how Rachel feels.”

He came to stand beside her. “It’s a little like being a doctor. You can’t save everyone. Rachel will learn that.”

“Not everyone has the personality to be a doctor, or a weaver.” She pushed herself out of the chair and leaned against him, then she straightened, surprised. “I’m leaning against you, not into you.” She touched him. “You’re almost solid.”

“I knew something felt different. Come here.” He pulled her against his shoulder.

“What’s happening?” Thea asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Is it something new that you’ve learned?”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s a fluke, but I sure enjoy really feeling you.” He bent his head and kissed her. “Mmm, your lips taste like wine.”

Warmth spread through her body. Every nerve tingled. Lips to lips, she could feel his warmth. Her breath came in small bursts. “You’re not cold. Can a ghost be warm?”

“I’m feeling pretty toasty.”

She nestled against him, and his hand slid under her T-shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Has it been that long?” he teased. His fingers brushed her stomach and breast, caressed her neck. She groaned. “Maybe this is a perk for having to weave a sad bookmark?” he asked.

“Lord, I hope so.” She was grateful for every perk that came her way. Her skin burned. Her body ached. “There hasn’t been anyone but you, ever.”

His fingers slid inside her bra. “Celibacy sucks,” he whispered. He reached for the screen door and pulled her into the house.

They only made it to the sofa, and Gabe’s energy didn’t fade until he came.

As he drained to a nice, translucent ghost again, Thea pulled on her bra and panties and padded to the kitchen for a second glass of wine. “What a day!”

Gabe grinned as he faded more. “I don’t wish you another bad weave, but I hope my energy spikes more often.”

“Me, too. Companionship’s good, but getting the works is even better.” When he was gone, she went back to the deck and flopped onto her chair. Her nervous energy was spent, and she felt so good, she wondered if her bones had melted.