Page 50 of A Ghost of a Chance

“I am not The Lord. And Osanne’s time is long past.”

“I beseech you to allow her another chance. She died very young, and deserves to live a full life.”

“Many die young. It is the way of things.”

“But we have only recently found each other. Please, allow us the chance to have a life together.”

The Angel of Death fixed Rafe with a penetrating stare that left him shaken and exposed.

He boomed, “There is a way, if one’s heart is pure.”

Rafe held out his hands. “I am not without my faults, but I give you my word that my love for her is pure. I will do anything for her.”

“Only someone with a pure heart may perform the Ath-nuadhachadh. It must be done here at midnight on All Hallows’ Eve.”

Rafe’s breath caught. There was a chance.

“But understand this: the Ath-nuadhachadh will either bring the dead caught between worlds back to life...or it will send them on to the next realm of existence forever. And rare is the person who returns to life.”

The light receded and the figure vanished.

Rafe found himself lying on the ground looking up at the stars. Alone.

Had he imagined it or was there truly a chance to save Osanne?

What if this Ath-nuadhachadh consigned her to nothingness as she feared? Could he take such a risk with her mortal soul?

Chapter Fifteen

Osanne sat next to Rafe in his study at Ravenswood Manor. The annual ball had ended, his guests had departed, and mere hours remained of their time together.

Everything was different tonight. She had not believed it possible, but she had finished her composition, even taking the pains to write it down. The task had exhausted her, but it felt important to have tangible evidence of her song—most of which Rafe had inspired.

Another stark difference lay in the two of them. Unlike previous evenings—previous years—their conversation felt stiff and unnatural as they both tried to avoid discussing any matters of real consequence, matters which clearly weighed as heavily on Rafe, as it did on Osanne.

Rafe spoke of the villagers, though she hardly knew any of them. “Jake hasn’t had a drop to drink in years, and he and his bride, Fanny, are very happy. Now that Jake is working steadily again, everyone’s delighted to have a blacksmith nearby once more. Oh, and Peter and his wife had another baby. He is the proudest papa I ever saw. His little boy calls me Uckle Wafe.” He smiled. “His wife keeps telling me that I’d make a good father and is trying to turn my head towards various young ladies in nearby towns.”

“You would make a good father.”

His smile flitted and faded. “Children have a special innocence and joy I find refreshing.”

Osanne took a good look at Rafe. He had aged since they had first met—how long ago? Six years? Seven years? Days, for her.

Still virile and handsome, Rafe showed signs of the passing of years in new lines around his eyes. No longer a disillusioned traveler, he had a distinguished dignity about him now. A man his age should, at the very least, be married, with the prospect of children. Osanne was robbing him of all the privileges of a husband, the joys of fatherhood. If she loved him, she would release him to know the joys of life with a whole, living woman.

If she did so, she would be alone again, consigned to endless nights of meaningless wandering.

The Larkin boys had moved to a light that had either freed or destroyed them. None of the other spirits who wandered on this night showed a desire to make mischief. She no longer had the need to protect her village and home from troublesome spirits.

Osanne had learned that her brother still lived, which lifted the fear that she had failed him.

She had even finished her song.

Perhaps her new reason for being was to help Rafe find healing and purpose so he could marry and have a family. If she were as selfless and noble as Rafe, she would set him free.

She shored up her courage and spoke her thoughts. “Rafe, I love you more than I ever imagined possible—even when I was alive. But this,” she gestured to herself and to him, “isn’t the way it should be between lovers.”

He held out his hands. “This is the hand fate has dealt us.”