His Haunted Heart by Lila Felix

but that line just took center stage.
    “Maybe,” she whispered in a voice that could easily be the mouthpiece of heaven. Her raven lashes fluttered and her eyes moved as if the person she was dreaming of was approaching her.
    “Maybe what?” I whispered back, my mind shackled with a tormenting need to know what she was dreaming of, or who.
    “Don’t hope,” she breathed and her voice carried a tone of exasperation. My steps faltered with her words. If she was telling herself or someone else not to hope, it meant that hope was present. Hope was a privilege I’d given up on a long time ago.
    I laid her down in the bed a few seconds later, making sure to remove the pathetic excuses for shoes from her feet and stoking the fire in her room. The comforter was tucked around her and she turned and embraced the damned thing. One day, she would reach for me in her sleep.
    Before leaving, I drew the curtains closed. It was in tugging on the last curtain that my nightmare came to full fruition outside, startling me. I didn’t know if I’d actually called out in fear or whether it was just in my head, but turning around and seeing no movement from Delilah; I knew it was silent.
    My once dear Marie stood outside in her juvenile form, floating in the distance.
    She seemed to make herself known more and more. I supposed it didn’t bother me much. If I wasn’t careful, her image would scare me a little from time to time.
    But other than her nagging and whining, Marie had never hurt a fly.
     

Chapter Five
     
    Delilah
     
    I woke to an empty bed, but I didn’t know why it surprised me. Sleeping by myself was as normal as the sunrise itself. I knew Porter would be gone and even if he was still here, he wouldn’t be here with me. What surprised me was that I lamented the loss.
    The sun was still conversing with the branches of the Cypress trees outside when I looked through the window. A singing rooster welcomed the morning somewhere far away.
    I almost expected to see my little phantom friend outside, waiting to haunt me again, but I saw nothing short of a normal breathtaking morning.
    Then again, anything was breathtaking in comparison to where I’d woken up the day before.
    I washed up in the sink after only three attempts at getting the water to turn on. Calendula soap tickled my nose and made me sneeze. My poor nose was used to filth and ashes—none of the flower smelling stuff.
    I sighed looking at my choices for dress. As if I didn’t stand apart among the rich furnishings of the home already, my clothes were even more worn looking than the cook. I was like a rotting rose in a bouquet of fresh cut daisies. Then again, I was downright afraid of what Porter had chosen.
    “Did you look at the things Porter bought for you? I’m not sure if they will fit, but we tried.”
    My mother-in-law was a mind reader.
    Her hand was laid on my shoulder. Still not accustomed to the touch of others so often, I twitched and then relaxed.
    “I looked a bit yesterday, but was overwhelmed. He really shouldn’t have.”
    “Come, it’s all in the wardrobe. We can fill up the closet later.”
    Eliza threw open both doors of the tall mahogany wardrobe and revealed more dresses and clothing than I’d ever owned in my life—maybe in mine and my sisters’ lives combined. A tear flickered in my eye at the sight. I knew that I was pawned off to the first person who had shown interest, but Porter was showing me kindness beyond my station—beyond what I deserved.
    “Oh, don’t you cry. You’ll make me cry. Look at these. Maybe if I didn’t stuff my gullet with breads, I could fit in tiny clothes like this too.” She saw my hesitation in touching the garments. It was like my hands weren’t fit to hold them. “Pick the first outfit that you see, the first thing that catches your eye.”
    A skirt the color of a dehydrated oak leaf hung the lowest and I fingered the edges, thinking that I’d never seen material that looked so soft, it