Chapter Six
Osanne came into wakefulness as she did every sunset on All Hallows’ Eve.
Ordinarily, her first thought centered on how she might learn what happened to her brother, followed quickly by how she could keep the townsfolk from the Larkin boys’ mischief, while leaving time to play the pianoforte and continue her composition.
This evening, her first thought focused on Rafe and that unforgettable night they spent together. But though a day to her, a year had passed, and a year was a long time to mortals. He had likely forgotten about her and found a living lady to love him. He certainly deserved it.
Now that she had experienced such bliss, how would she ever find pleasure in her music?
Granted, pleasure as a disembodied soul was thin and shallow at best, but music had given her purpose in her strange existence.
Some souls merely wandered aimlessly, or caused grief to the living.
At least Osanne attempted to prevent mischief and harm, and sought to create beauty—even if another soul would never hear it.
As darkness spread, Osanne recalled her vow from last year—to do anything to know love, or even friendship, again. Her wish had materialized. But such a blissful night could not last, and surely would not be repeated.
As John and Frank Larkin and the other spirits moved toward the village square, Osanne lingered, reading the tombstones. No new markers. No mention of her parents or brother. If only she could apologize for her failure and for causing them grief, or at least learn of their fates.
Shadows darkened, and the bare tree branches shivered in the breeze. The moon and stars shone down from a cloudless sky.
Osanne glanced at Ravenswood Manor on its hill. Gilded by a silver and white moon and backlit by stars, it appeared exactly as it had when she and her family had lived there. Now, interspersed with memories of her family, lay memories of Rafe and all they had shared.
At a distance, the flickering firelight in barrels scattered along the main road beckoned to her but she stayed next to the carved statues and monuments, consumed by her profound emptiness.
What a fool to wish for a human connection!
That sweet night with Rafe threw into sharp relief her meaningless existence.
“Osanne?” On the main path leading from the churchyard to the village square stood Rafe.
Rafe!
He took a few steps forward, his smile turning from uncertainty to disbelieving wonder.
For a moment, Osanne could think of nothing to say. She began drifting upward and had to consciously remind herself to keep her feet near the ground so she appeared to stand. “You’re here....” A champion of obvious statements, she changed tactics. “Why are you here?”
His wonder turned to one of...joy? Surely not. He truly did not care that much. Did he?
“I’m here for you. I had to see you.” He took another step forward. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind.”
If she were in possession of a beating heart, it would have leaped about in happiness. She glided closer. A strong longing to throw her arms around him rose up within her. Instead, she stopped in front of him.
Grinning, he looked her over as if assuring himself she truly appeared before him. “After all, I had to satisfy myself that you were real and not part of a vivid dream.”
He had only come to satisfy his curiosity. Still, he had come seeking her. She smiled. “Was it a good dream?”
“The best.” A shadow dimmed the light in his eyes. “Until I watched you disappear.” Almost instantly, he brightened. “But we shan’t think of that right now. I’m happy just to be here with you.”
In truth? He was happy to be with her? He smiled, a slow curving of his lips that drew her to him. He had shaved, which better revealed a fine, strong jawline and emphasized the shape of his mouth.
How would it be to feel the press of his lips on hers? To bask in the beauty of his kiss?
Fool! She was a ghost; she felt nothing, at least, nothing on the physical level.
His voice, so familiar and so dear, wrapped around her. “Shall we go play the pianoforte at Ravenswood Manor? Or find the Larkin boys and keep them out of trouble? Or....” He cocked his head. “What would you like to do?”
That familiar pull toward Ravenswood Manor tugged on her.
She glanced at the Tudor house she had called home all her life, and then at Rafe.
The same melody she had composed ran through her mind, including the new refrain that had come to her last year, but a variation in a new key took form—brighter, more hopeful.
A new addition to her composition. What was it about Rafe that stirred her musical creativity?
Villagers cheered and clapped, drawing her focus to the village square. The bonfire leaped to life. Children danced and capered in their strange costumes. Screams rang out through the air.
“I suppose the Larkin boys are in the pub?” Rafe’s eyes glittered merrily.
Osanne exchanged smiles with him. Odd how much brighter the moon shone with him nearby, looking at her, smiling with her, speaking to her. If only she could touch him, intertwine her fingers with his, rest her head on his shoulder.
For now, it was enough to be with him.
“Most likely.” She moved closer, and the melody in her mind grew louder, more distinct.
Clearly, he inspired her. All her girlish dreams had taken form in this remarkable man—who apparently couldn’t get her out of his mind. For an entire year!
“Shall we shoo them out?” Rafe asked. His smile broadened and she could only stare at him.
She had never seen such pure, masculine beauty.
A joyous laugh bubbled up inside her. “Indeed, we should or who knows what those scalawags will do.”
He gestured for her to precede him. She could hardly keep from staring at him as they moved through the festivities.
He shook his head and let out a soft chuckle. “I’m not sure how long it will take me to become accustomed to seeing you go through objects. You look solid, but....”
Osanne halted and looked down. She floated in the middle of a large barrel full of apples. Quickly she moved back. “It must be disconcerting to see that.”
“At least you don’t have to be concerned with watching where you are going.” A gently teasing light entered Rafe’s eyes.
“You make a good point. If I were solid, you would think me terribly clumsy.”
“If you were solid, I’d offer you my arm and help guide you through all the obstacles in our path.”
How lovely that would be!
A man nearby paused as he drank out of a jug and gave Rafe a strange look. He crossed himself, got up muttering, and moved to a new location, all the while shooting backward glances at Rafe.
Smiling, Osanne leaned into Rafe. “Perhaps you ought not converse with me while in the midst of others, lest they think you mad.”
Rafe shrugged. “It’s All Hallows’ Eve; everyone’s acting a bit mad.”
Again, that pull to Ravenswood Manor to play the new variation of her song tugged at her.
Rafe tilted his head, and a gentle smile pulled his lips upward. He seemed more at peace with himself than he had last year. Questions crowded her mind. But those could wait until later. For now, she would immerse herself in the unique joy of being with him.
He shivered. “Colder than usual, this eve.”
“Perhaps you need something hot to drink?” Osanne suggested.
He nodded. “If you’re agreeable?”
“Of course. The Larkins are there, remember? And no one else seems inclined to cross them.”
They went to the inn where the Larkins were indeed pulling their usual pranks.
Rafe ordered a mulled wine and sat. Nearby, the man named Jake sat in his usual spot, nursing a large tankard.
A faint scar on his forehead remained of his injury last year.
This year, Osanne would make sure no one else got hurt.
John Larkin reached for a lit candelabra and his brother grasped a barrel.
Osanne rounded on the Larkin boys. “If you do not limit your scare games to the graveyard and the woods, I vow I will haunt your mother.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at them.
The Larkins halted and stared at her. “You wouldn’t,” John ventured.
Rafe snickered into his hand and shot Osanne a pleased smile.
“Do you want to test that?” She glided back a few paces toward the door.
“Ah, you’re no fun,” Frank grumbled.
“Come on.” John gestured to his brother.
They slunk away, fading from view through the outer wall. Osanne followed them to be sure they had not deceived her. Surprisingly, the boys obediently headed to the woods, tailing a group of youth likely seeking a fright. An instant later, screams of delighted terror rang out.
Satisfied, Osanne returned to the inn. With his hands cupping a hot drink, Rafe stood outside waiting for her. He smiled at her approach.
Her quaint old village took on a new beauty with him there. True, all remained in various shades of gray in the eventide, but the lights burned brighter, the moon glowed, stars glimmered, even the bare trees looked silver in the moonlight and took on a magical quality.
As they strolled through Madding Hollow, Osanne kept her attention on Rafe. He had come back—to see her! What a remarkable turn of events.
The gypsies entertained, read palms, and sold wares. Madam Miska glanced at them, or rather, Rafe, as he passed by. The Romani woman took a second glance and turned thoughtful. Rafe nodded to her. Another young woman plopped down in front of the gypsy woman and asked for her fortune.
“Mr. Brown,” Rafe greeted a man about his own age wearing a multi-caped woolen coat very similar to the one Rafe wore.
Osanne studied the man. He did bear a resemblance to a child who had grown into a younger man whom she had seen about the village. When she failed to see him for several years, she had assumed he had died young or moved away. Apparently, he had returned, older of course, from wherever he had gone.
Mr. Brown cocked his head and squinted his eyes as if trying to remember something. “Forgive me, but while your face is familiar, I cannot recall your name.”