Chapter 8
Conall couldn’t say he was unhappy about not being collected by Soni, though if removing Mia’s wicked ex-husband from her life wasn’t his quest, he had no idea what else he was supposed to do.
“Do ye think the man will truly stay away?” he asked.
They had settled themselves on the couch after retrieving their pizza slices. Mia had her plate on her lap, the greasy triangles congealing, uneaten on her plate. If he hadn’t been in such turmoil he would have enjoyed the new food very much, but his worry left his own slice untouched after only a bite.
“After I’m gone,” he added, almost choking on the words.
She turned to him. “I’ll get an alarm system set up as soon as I can. And I mean to report him for breaking the restraining order. It won’t be more than a fine, I’m sure, which he won’t have any trouble paying. But if he keeps violating it, the courts will eventually have to do something.”
“I wish—”
She cut him off, beaming at him. “I can see why you’re so excited to meet Prince Charlie. Those kicks felt good. I think they awakened a beast inside me.”
“Ah, good then. Keep that beast in close range if ye truly think the blackguard will return.”
He sighed, trying to conjure up some excitement about getting his chance to apprise Prince Charlie of the damage he’d done. There might have been a small spark but it was quickly doused with worry for Mia and the lad. As he looked at her, he knew it was no longer an unselfish desire to do something good and noble. It was wholly selfish.
When Mia admitted she wanted to keep him around for reasons other than protection, his heart had soared for a moment. One brief moment before he remembered he was long since dead and would return to that state at any time.
It had been pure, unadulterated joy. No, he had to call it what it really was. Love. He loved Mia and he loved the wee lad. He’d never given more than a fleeting thought to having children when he was alive. How could he, galloping around the country, fighting for a cause? But he would have enjoyed spending the rest of his life watching over and teaching the lad. Like a real Da. He had to blink away the moisture that gathered in his eyes and roughly cleared his throat.
“I think it’s time to fire up your tablet and find us something to pass the time. That is if ye’re not sleepy?”
She stared at him, long and hard, tears glistening in her own eyes. “I’m not sleepy,” she said. “I want to stay awake with you. For as long as we have.”
He held out his arms and she scooted closer, nestling against his chest. A few minutes later another insipid film played out, the volume barely audible. He kissed the top of her head and she twisted around to face him. He wanted to tell her so many things, how beautiful he found her at the top of the list.
Instead he stayed silent, leaning down to kiss her lips. She eagerly returned the kiss and placed her hand against his heart, making it race. How wonderful it felt to have a racing heart. He pulled away gently, torn between wanting to kiss her and wanting to drink her in.
“I could stay this way forever,” he said, stroking her hair. Everything, he had to remember everything, down to the texture and color of her hair.
She closed her eyes. “But you can’t.”
“Aye.”
She slid her arms around him and pressed herself close, resting her cheek once again on his chest. Within a few minutes, her breathing slowed and a twitch of her leg let him know she had fallen asleep.
He slid down as best he could so she would be comfortable, not concerned about his own bones. He’d be without his body again soon enough, without feeling or cares. Being a ghost wasn’t such a bad existence. Certainly easier than what the poor living had to put up with. And he’d had his own life, no matter how short it was.
This second chance was more than he could have dreamed possible. He knew he should be grateful. But his greed welled up and he had to force himself to concentrate on Mia’s lovely, sleeping form. He couldn’t waste his final minutes or hours with her on wanting more.
He was just about asleep himself when a loud bang and the almost musical sound of shattering glass made him jump. Mia tumbled off his lap and he hurried to catch her before she hit the floor.
She blinked at him and her eyes widened with confusion. A familiar, acrid smell filled his nose and a thick cloud of smoke billowed into the hallway. He pushed her toward the lad’s bedroom.
“Fire,” he said grimly. “Get wee Kevin out.”
She scurried away as he headed toward the kitchen and the source of the smoke.
The curtains and tablecloth were already ablaze. Bits of broken glass from the window lay on the floor, more broken glass winked in the flames on the table. He tried to make it to the sink for water, the fire climbing the old, wooden walls.
Mia screamed behind him and as much as he wanted to pick her up and toss her away from the danger, he didn’t have time. The flames were multiplying faster than he could possibly put out. They all needed to flee.
“The extinguisher’s under the sink,” she shouted, phone pressed to her ear.
He had no earthly clue what she was speaking of, but covered his face with a bit of his plaid and ducked down, opening the cabinet under the sink. The fire had consumed the table cloth and was working its way down the rickety legs of the table. He felt the hair on his arms singeing away and yelled once again for Mia to get out.
She shook her head and pointed to the red cylinder under the sink. “Pull the pin and spray it on the flames,” she said.
“I will. Now go!”
Thankfully she listened this time. He pulled the pin and aimed at the nearest flames. Nothing happened, then he saw the trigger-like handle and squeezed. White foam doused the nearest small blaze and he quickly turned the miraculous stuff on the inferno trying to eat the walls. Smoke filled his eyes and nose and he dropped to his knees, crawling to the window to spray the last of the fire that had consumed the curtains and now licked at the back door.
Coughing and gagging at the combined smoke and strange smell of the extinguisher foam, he still felt victorious. There was only a bit of fire left now. The extinguisher fizzled and stopped spraying and he tossed it aside, horrified at how quickly the fire bloomed again once he was no longer spraying it with the foam.
Tearing off his kilt, he managed a guttural battle cry despite his raw throat and flung it at the wall. Beating the flames underneath with his hands, he ignored the burning. Some of his friends had burned at Culloden and he’d been grateful he’d been spared that at least. Now he didn’t care.
Smoke billowed out from under the plaid and he feared he would need to abandon his last attempt to save Mia’s house. In the distance he heard a wailing sound— perhaps it was what awaited him on the other side? His eyes watered and his lungs were about to give up.
He almost laughed that wee Soni wouldn’t get her chance to claim him since he was about to die all over again. He prayed he could become a ghost once more and keep an eye on Mia and the lad.