The conversation was starting to make her head throb.
“You’re invisible,” she said in exasperation. Can you prove you’re real?”
“How?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?”
The mattress shifted. If he had been a man, she would have said that he’d gotten out of bed. Then, to her astonishment, she saw a warm glow over by her dresser. In that light, she watched her hairbrush lift from the horizontal surface.
Sitting up to see better, she watched in amazement as the strange light came toward her and along with it the brush. Some part of her acknowledged that she should be afraid. Instead, she was fascinated. Did she see a dim outline of a man glowing faintly in the midnight bedroom? She shivered, then shivered again as she felt the brush touch her head and stroke through the long red strands.
“I love your hair,” he whispered. “It’s lovely.”
She had challenged him to prove he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. She supposed she could be making this up, too.
All her life, she had wished for someone who could bridge the gap between her and the rest of humanity. Had that wish come true—in a way that should be impossible? Was it insane to think the two of them could forge some kind of meaningful relationship? She marveled that she had even asked the question.
After suppressing a hysterical laugh, she managed to say.
“Whatever this is—it’s happening too fast.”
“You want me to...give you some space?”
“You’d better.”
The hairbrush dropped to the floor with a clank, and she was alone in the room, feeling abandoned and confused. The way she had often felt. Only this was worse because she was the one who had rejected the overture.
CHAPTERFIVE
Olivia climbed out of bed. When she took a step, her foot tramped down on the bristles of the hairbrush, and she winced. Bending, she retrieved it with a shaky hand before returning it to the dresser. How had it gotten from where it belonged to the floor beside her bed if he hadn’t carried it? She knew she hadn’t gotten out of bed and brought it over. She knew she hadn’t been brushing her own hair. Or had she done those things without acknowledging them?
As confusion swirled in her head, she swung her gaze around the room. Although it was too dark to see colors, she knew what they were. She had decorated this private space in soothing blues and greens to make it into a sanctuary, a place where she could shut out all the people she didn’t understand and didn’t want to deal with. Now it felt strangely empty. Would the man come back if she called him? Was he lurking somewhere nearby? Or perhaps he was still in the room, invisible but waiting to see what she would do now.
She climbed back into the bed, pulled up the covers, and slid down so that her face was partially obscured. After a few moments, she decided that if she thought she was going back to sleep any time soon, she was kidding herself. She was too off balance for that. She had sent the man away because it had seemed like the only sane course of action. And he had gone, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.
The man? She had told herself he was some kind of ghost or spirit. But he had taken on a different reality. Not because she’d vaguely seen him when he’d done that trick with the lights. It was their conversation. As they’d talked, he’d taken on a personality that had only been a hint at the beginning. He had a history, feelings, and needs—just as she did. And he’d told her she could fulfill those needs.
Could he do the same for her? Too restless to lie in bed, she got up and walked to the window, where she stood staring out into the night. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was four thirty in the morning. Really, she should try to get some sleep. But she knew it was too late for that. If she took some medication now, there was no telling when she was going to get up.
As she stared through the window with unfocused eyes, she couldn’t help thinking that she had made a mistake. Her visitor had offered her the thing she had always craved. And she had been too afraid to accept the offer.
After dithering for several minutes, she whispered into the darkness.
“If you can hear me, come back.”
At first, nothing happened and she felt disappointment settle over her like a heavy cloak. Then she sensed a presence behind her.
“Where were you?”
In the darkness. Waiting and hoping that you’d change your mind.
She wanted to be angry that he had been confident enough to linger nearby. Instead, she was secretly glad.
No, it wasn’t secret. She couldn’t keep a secret when her thoughts were open to him.
That was a strange concept for a woman who had never felt a deep connection to anyone. And here she was, totally open and vulnerable.
She caught the warmth of his body behind her and told herself he couldn’t be a ghost if he was warm. Reaching back, she touched his chest, her hand encountering what felt like a T-shirt. Sliding farther down, she found rougher fabric. Jeans, she thought. She’d wondered if he would be naked. It seemed that he was dressed in ordinary clothing.
