Wanted: One Ghost by Loni Lynne

him. She had every right to be scared of a specter, but he didn’t want her to fear him. He’d waited for years for someone to come along and see him, sense him—talk to him. He couldn’t let her run away from him now.
    “You already know the answer, Dr. Branford. You saw me out at the mill the other day.”
    Her eyes widened. He could see her chest rising rapidly within the confines of her woolen coat as she shook her head in denial. “You’re…James Addison.”
    The quietly spoken words weren’t a question or a doubt, she knew, but whether or not she accepted the knowledge was yet to be seen.
    “Really, I did want to tell you the truth about me, but I couldn’t. Not knowing how you would react, I couldn’t take the chance of having you run away from me. I don’t want you to fear me, or what I am. You’re the only person who has ever been able to see me in this form. But more importantly, you’re the only person who’s cared.”
    She stopped and turned. “I can see you. But you’re not real…I don’t know…”
    “You make me feel real again,” he said softly, his voice wavering with emotion.
    She shook her head and muttered profanities under her breath to her Aunt Vickie and someone named Wilton. “I don’t have time for ghosts. I’ve a case to solve. Go back to wherever it is you came from.” April waved him off, holding her forehead as if warding off a headache.
    “I can’t. This is where I am. Right here, right now. There is no place for me to go back to.” He would hold her in his arms if only he could touch her. James knew this couldn’t be easy for her to understand. “Perhaps I could be of assistance to you, since you know who I am.”
    “You’re a ghost. I need tangible evidence of James Addison’s life. I’ll be a laughing stock to my employer if I try to tell him my research is based on facts from a ghost. I need proof. Besides, how do I know you really are James Addison?”
    “You don’t,” he agreed. “But what would it take to prove to you I am?”
    “Tell me where he is buried,” she challenged.
    James shrugged. “Easy enough, but I would prefer to show you.” He began to lead the way, deeper into the cemetery grounds.
    “I call bullshit. There is no record of his burial, I’ve researched his information. If he was executed, his body parts could be anywhere.” She scoffed heavily and turned away, moving toward the front of the cemetery, back to the entrance from where she’d started with the rest of the tour group.
    She was leaving, not only the cemetery, but him. He couldn’t have her walk away from this moment, from him. Somehow he knew he needed to be with April Branford no matter what.
    “Of course there are no records. My remains were buried in a pauper’s grave after having been displayed publicly to warn others who might wish to commit treason.” He scoffed. “Each night I return to my gravestone only to wake in the past, savoring the life I knew at the mill, like you witnessed the other day. Then I’m transported here into the present and walk the streets of Kings Mill, searching for someone to see me, help me, or perhaps guide me to move on. I can’t prove anything. I’m hoping you might believe in me, if only a little.”
    Biting her lip, she stopped walking. James noticed she nibbled the luscious bit of flesh when she seemed uncertain or nervous. With tentative steps she approached, daring to get closer to him. Those sparkling eyes narrowed speculatively as she reached out to touch him and of course—went right through his ethereal body. Closing her eyes, she shook her head skeptically. His soul ached wanting to dispel all of her fears as she struggled to come to terms with what he was. Spooking her was the last thing he wanted to do.
    When her gaze met his again, he knew, deep in whatever he was made of, April Branford was his destiny. If only he knew how to convince her to feel the same way. He needed her to trust him. But how did a ghost