Peering down at his hands he realized he glowed with the same unearthly light as did she and the stone. His soul stretched and ached to fill with solid mass. Agony and pain wrenched through him, making him wither on the ground, until the pain lessened to a dull, quivering twinge. Then he heard it, for the first time in over two hundred years, the mortal thumping of his heart.
Lifting his head he searched April out across the small space between them. Her body was lying across his gravestone, her eyes wide with shock. Her lips moved, speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear her through the intense ringing and cacophony of sounds blaring in his ears. The pain slowly ebbed. Gingerly, James breathed. Sharp, icy shards filled his lungs, like a babe sucking in new life. His bare fingers dug into the rich earth. Wet leaves and soil feathered from between digits of flesh and bone. Inhaling the fragrant scents of dead foliage beneath his nose, a thousand sensations bore down upon him, overwhelming his mind. He was alive!
Unable to speak because of the emotion clogging his throat, he gave silent thanks to the woman. Whatever power she possessed, she was the answer to his prayers.
He noticed April had not risen from his grave. With her eyes closed tightly, she struggled for release from his stone, but it held her fast. She groaned and sobbed before the illumination around her dimmed and darkness surrounded them. She lay exhausted and weak across his meager tombstone. Opening her eyes, she was able to slowly remove her hand and reach out to him, seeking his help.
His body struggled to rise, but he was too weak to support the new mass of weight. Exhausted, he slumped back to the ground, vividly shaking as tremors rocked through him.
“It’s you. You really are James Addison,” she gasped in between breaths.
Her voice shook. She lay there, quivering in the aftermath of what they had witnessed together. Raising her hands in front of her face, as if she were uncertain who they belonged to, she turned them over, studying them.
Slowly, painfully, he inched his way across the few feet that separated them. Reaching her side, James held out his hand, spanning the ground between them. His hand shook, partially with fear but mostly with wonder. Would she be able to take hold and actually sense his touch now?
Her sobs were muffled, but she slowly rolled over, reaching out for his hand in return. Her eyes roamed in a quick beat from his hand to his face, checking for permission to touch him. The smooth, warm silkiness of her palm encompassed in his set his body on fire, in a good way. No woman had made him feel this alive, even when he lived centuries ago. What power did this woman have to make him feel whole again?
“Dear God, you are alive! What have I done ?”
Chapter Five
April felt Aunt Vickie’s eyes bore into her from across the parlor without even glancing towards the woman. Minutes ticked by on the mantle clock, the Westminster Chimes still echoing the quarter hour. James Addison walked about the room, touching everything, marveling at his re-born senses. They hadn’t spoken directly to each other since the gravesite. Still shaking inside, April was relieved she was sitting down. Her brain had disconnected somewhere between feeling James’s hand touching hers and arriving back at the house. She didn’t even remember dialing Aunt Vickie’s number much less how she’d managed to get back to the entrance of the cemetery.
Vickie had arrived within moments, annoyed for having been taken out of her Sangria and Séances party, until April explained the man’s presence. The shock and uncertainty echoing in her aunt’s eyes proved to April what happened wasn’t normal by any means—even to a woman who dealt with the paranormal on a daily basis.
Barely recovered from the fright of meeting her first ghost, April was thrown into the unknown of how she brought a ghost back from the grave. Over and over again she muttered,
Lifting his head he searched April out across the small space between them. Her body was lying across his gravestone, her eyes wide with shock. Her lips moved, speaking to him, but he couldn’t hear her through the intense ringing and cacophony of sounds blaring in his ears. The pain slowly ebbed. Gingerly, James breathed. Sharp, icy shards filled his lungs, like a babe sucking in new life. His bare fingers dug into the rich earth. Wet leaves and soil feathered from between digits of flesh and bone. Inhaling the fragrant scents of dead foliage beneath his nose, a thousand sensations bore down upon him, overwhelming his mind. He was alive!
Unable to speak because of the emotion clogging his throat, he gave silent thanks to the woman. Whatever power she possessed, she was the answer to his prayers.
He noticed April had not risen from his grave. With her eyes closed tightly, she struggled for release from his stone, but it held her fast. She groaned and sobbed before the illumination around her dimmed and darkness surrounded them. She lay exhausted and weak across his meager tombstone. Opening her eyes, she was able to slowly remove her hand and reach out to him, seeking his help.
His body struggled to rise, but he was too weak to support the new mass of weight. Exhausted, he slumped back to the ground, vividly shaking as tremors rocked through him.
“It’s you. You really are James Addison,” she gasped in between breaths.
Her voice shook. She lay there, quivering in the aftermath of what they had witnessed together. Raising her hands in front of her face, as if she were uncertain who they belonged to, she turned them over, studying them.
Slowly, painfully, he inched his way across the few feet that separated them. Reaching her side, James held out his hand, spanning the ground between them. His hand shook, partially with fear but mostly with wonder. Would she be able to take hold and actually sense his touch now?
Her sobs were muffled, but she slowly rolled over, reaching out for his hand in return. Her eyes roamed in a quick beat from his hand to his face, checking for permission to touch him. The smooth, warm silkiness of her palm encompassed in his set his body on fire, in a good way. No woman had made him feel this alive, even when he lived centuries ago. What power did this woman have to make him feel whole again?
“Dear God, you are alive! What have I done ?”
Chapter Five
April felt Aunt Vickie’s eyes bore into her from across the parlor without even glancing towards the woman. Minutes ticked by on the mantle clock, the Westminster Chimes still echoing the quarter hour. James Addison walked about the room, touching everything, marveling at his re-born senses. They hadn’t spoken directly to each other since the gravesite. Still shaking inside, April was relieved she was sitting down. Her brain had disconnected somewhere between feeling James’s hand touching hers and arriving back at the house. She didn’t even remember dialing Aunt Vickie’s number much less how she’d managed to get back to the entrance of the cemetery.
Vickie had arrived within moments, annoyed for having been taken out of her Sangria and Séances party, until April explained the man’s presence. The shock and uncertainty echoing in her aunt’s eyes proved to April what happened wasn’t normal by any means—even to a woman who dealt with the paranormal on a daily basis.
Barely recovered from the fright of meeting her first ghost, April was thrown into the unknown of how she brought a ghost back from the grave. Over and over again she muttered,
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