He Follwed Me Home

“There ain’t no grave can hold my body down. There ain’t no grave can hold my body down. When I hear that trumpet sound, I’m gonna rise right out of the ground. Ain’t no grave can hold my body down.” Johnny Cash ‘Ain’t No Grave’

Summer 1995

Wyatt lay on the grass covered hill and stared up at the sun. The breeze was blowing through the long grasses and the surrounding trees. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost remember what the heat of the sun felt like… He could faintly recall the feel of the wind against his skin.

It had been around one hundred and thirty-two years since he had ever felt things like wind and sunshine. One hundred and thirty-two years since a confederate soldier had fired the shot that had ended his life in Vicksburg, Mississippi on the banks of the mighty Mississippi River.

What was he? Hell he wasn’t sure. A ghost? Maybe. Phantom? It was possible. An angel? Hell no, not with the way he had lived his life. All he knew for sure was that his everyday seemed to be the same. No one could see him. No one could hear him. He could appear and disappear as he wished and walk through walls. He could touch objects, lift them, move them, throw them at unsuspecting tourists…. But he couldn’t actually feel any of them.

Wyatt heard the bus pull up and smiled faintly as the driver turned off the engine and he heard children’s voices fill the air. Another school group coming to see what was left of the historical landmarks of one of the biggest battles and sieges in Civil War history. Wyatt liked kids. Especially young kids. They were sweet and innocent and made him think of his little sisters that he had left behind in Kansas when he had joined the union army.

He stood up and walked down the hill to where the bus was parked beside the park entrance. Strange that people had decided to turn this place into a park. The place where he had died… The place where so many had died. Oh well. He’d learned a long time ago that God was great, beer was good and people were crazy. Of course he wasn’t sure anymore that there was a God but the last two parts of that statement were still true.

Wyatt walked among the group of children. They appeared to be around ten years of age. It amazed him how much people had changed in the time since his death. They rode in loud things called automobiles. There were many different kinds of automobiles but he was partial to the ones they called pickup trucks. He figured that those were very useful and he could see how they would have helped make life on his families wheat farm so much easier.

People dressed and spoke much differently too. They used words that Wyatt didn’t understand and they wore bright colors, oftentimes the children had colorful drawings on their shirts of things called ‘cartoon characters’. Wyatt wasn’t sure what a cartoon was but he knew they were off of something called a television. He didn’t know what one of those was either.

It amazed him to watch people. To see white children running and playing with black children, oriental children and Mexicans. That was one thing that made being dead a little easier to stand. At least his side had won the war that had taken his life.

He shook his head. Today was not a good day to dwell on things. He saved dwelling for rainy days when the park was empty. Wyatt walked with the children… They couldn’t see him of course. He was careful to keep from bumping into any of them. They wouldn’t feel it if he had but he hated the sensation he felt when he passed through another human.

He listened to the children talking excitedly amongst themselves. Most of them couldn’t care less about the Civil War or anything that had happened here, they were just happy for a day out of their school house. Wyatt just followed the tour for a while but he couldn’t let the guide get in a complete tour without making his presence known. The older guides were used to him and a lot of the new ones didn’t last once they learned about him. This guide had been there about ten years and knew all about the ghost of Vicksburg.

They were in the kitchen of one of the only original houses that had been left standing after the siege had ended. It had been a union hospital at the time though might as well have been called a union morgue because of all the dead bodies it had been home to.

Wyatt had always been a jokester and a prankster and not even death had taken that away from him. While the guide was busy explaining the daily workings of a nineteenth century kitchen, Wyatt lifted three of the fake plastic apples into his hands and began juggling them in the air. The children all gasped and their teacher and the two chaperones let out screams. The guide, Randall Coots turned and saw the apples.

“Special effects kids.” he said gently as he looked away from the self juggling apples. The kids nodded but continued to stare at the apples with wonder. The teacher had turned a shade of white that Wyatt had never seen a living person turn and he feared she might lose consciousness. He let the apples fall to the floor and Randall guided everyone out of the kitchen. They were only too happy to follow him and Wyatt walked along behind them with his hands folded behind his back while he whistled a tune. Being a ghost (or whatever the hell he was) sure did get lonely sometimes. He was musing over this fact of his life when one of the kids turned and he would swear her brown eyes landed right on him. She was a cute little girl with her thick nearly black curls up in pig tails and freckles on her pale cheeks.

Wyatt knew it was impossible that she was really looking at him. One hundred and thirty-two years and no one had ever been able to see or hear him. No one had looked into his eyes in all that time. If they did it was by accident and there was no connection because they couldn’t see him. But this little girls brown eyes almost seemed locked on his as she studied him curiously.

Could she see him? Was that possible? If his heart had been beating it surely would have stopped as he lifted his hand and gave her a little wave. He knew his jaw dropped open when she smiled shyly and waved back. She fell behind her class and began walking with him.

“I liked that song you were whistling.” she said. “You look like a real soldier like the ones out of our books. You even have the hat.” she added. Wyatt barely managed to nod as he looked down at her. How was this happening? “That was pretty cool when you juggled those apples. I’m not sure why everyone got so scared. I like your eyes. My daddy has green eyes like that.”

“Francine.” one of the chaperones called and the girl looked ahead. “Who are you talking to? Get back up here.” Francine’s little brow furrowed and she looked back over her shoulder but the man was gone. Where did he go?

“I was talking to the soldier man.” Francine replied as she looked all around her for any sign of him. The chaperone’s eyes narrowed.

“What soldier man?”

“The one in the blue uniform and the silly little hat. The one that juggled the apples in the kitchen.”

“Get up here with the class and don’t fall behind again.” the chaperone stated harshly. Francine let out a sigh of annoyance and met back up with her friends.

“I really saw a soldier man.” she told them. “He had a friendly smile, handsome green eyes and he was whistling a funny song.” The chaperone quickly made her way to the teacher who had heard Francine’s statements about the mystery soldier.

“Next year we’re going to an amusement park.” the chaperone stated and the teacher nodded in quick agreement.

888

Wyatt wasn’t sure why he had run from the girl…. She had scared the life out of him… Okay so the rebel bullet had done that but she had certainly scared him as well. He’d gotten so used to being invisible that to have someone suddenly able to see him had been a shock he wasn’t prepared for.

He walked quickly, with purposeful strides to the cemetery. He knew the stone he was heading for without even thinking about it. He walked past thousands of stones with small American flags hooked onto their sides before he finally came to his. His stone. He wasn’t sure if it was his body buried beneath it but it didn’t matter. This was the one thing in this entire world that still belonged to him. His name was carved into the white rock.

Wyatt Montgomery B- 1837 D-1863

He stared down at the stone for long hours. Contemplating life and death and wondering what in the hell he was still doing here. If there were any other ghosts here at Vicksburg they were as invisible to him as he was to the living. He was utterly alone…. Or had been until that little girl had seen him.

He made his way back to the parking lot but the school bus was gone as was the only person who had seen him in over one hundred years. A sense of loneliness overcame him and he closed his eyes and transported himself to the replica barracks that the park committee had had built. He curled up on one of the beds since darkness was beginning to fall and the lonely wind howled through windows and echoed over the treetops as he drifted to sleep.

Chapter Two

15 Years Later

Summer 2010

“Look at this!” Janice said holding out her smart phone so Francine could see. “It says that Vicksburg was one of the biggest sieges and battles of the civil war. When the union defeated the confederates it gave them a vital piece of control over the Mississippi River.” Francine nodded as she took a bite of her sandwich.

“I know.” she said with her mouth full. “Nearly twenty thousand casualties in all.”

“Imagine all those lost souls.” Janice exclaimed in her usual overdramatic fashion as she ran her hand through her pink streaked blond hair and munched on a french fry. Francine smiled though her mind was not on all the lost souls of Vicksburg but on one in particular. The soldier she had seen when she had been ten years old. The soldier no one else could see. The soldier who had juggled the apples.

She and Janice were on the last stop of their month long tour of civil war sights. Francine worked for a publishing company and it was her job to come up with supernatural stories and proof for the articles of their newspaper. Janice and Francine had been friends since their freshman year of high school when some of the popular girls had been giving Francine a hard time over her love of all things paranormal and Janice had stepped in and knocked the head cheerleader for a loop with a mean right hook. Even back then Janice had worn bright fluorescent clothes and colorful hair… she hadn’t changed much at all.

“I’ve been to Vicksburg once before.” Francine admitted as the two twenty-five year olds paid for their greasy lunches and headed back out to Janice’s beat up Ford Bronco.

“You have?” Janice asked as she waved at a man who was staring at her in her tight, mid thigh length orange denim skirt and hot pink tube top. Janice had the tan toned body and stunning face to pull of a look like that. Francine, was no ugly duckling herself but preferred a more subdued wardrobe. Today she was wearing flared light blue denim pants and a peasant blouse with loose draping sleeves. It had an elastic band along the bottom that hugged tight to her slender hips and the blue flip flops on her feet were her favorite.

Francine climbed into the passenger side of the bronco and took her scrunchie off of her wrist. She quickly pulled back her curly black hair as Janice climbed in and cranked the loud eyesore of a car to life.

“I went there once as a kid. I was ten.”

“And….” Janice encouraged. She knew her best friend enough to know there was more to this story. Francine looked up at the storm clouds that were quickly gathering and sighed.

“I saw one.”

“One what?” Janice asked as she pulled onto the two lane interstate.

“A ghost.”

“No shit?” Janice exclaimed, turning her head to stare at her. Francine laughed at her excitement and pointed at the road.

“You better pay attention to where you’re going or else we’ll both be ghosts.” she warned. Both women shared a love for all things paranormal so Francine knew her friend would believe her though no one else ever had.

“So you saw a ghost at Vicksburg? Why are you just now telling me about this?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it in a while… It wasn’t until I saw the stories about Vicksburg when we began doing civil war research that I remembered the man.” Janice checked her mirrors and then quickly passed an eighteen wheeler. Francine wondered what kept the old Bronco’s engine from blowing up.

“So it was a man?” Janice asked with avid interest and curiosity.

“Yes. A union soldier dressed in full uniform. He even had the bayonet and musket and a revolver on his hip.”

“Was he wearing one of those silly caps?” Janice asked as she reached into the center console and took out a stick of gum. Francine nodded.

“I didn’t know he was a ghost at first. I just thought he was a man dressed up as a soldier. He juggled apples and scared everyone to death because they couldn’t see him, only the apples.”

“So he has a sense of humor?” Janice asked, her excitement growing as she bounced around in her seat. “This is great! Maybe we’ll see him again today and get some real evidence instead of just stories for the newspaper! ‘The Juggling Ghost of Vicksburg’, won’t that make a great headline?”

“I suppose it would.” Francine replied as she looked out the passenger window and sighed. There had been something about that ghost. He had seemed so shocked when she had talked to him.. Francine had a talent. She could feel the presence of spirits, many times she had seen shadows and flickers of them. She had heard their voices from time to time but never had a ghost since the solider man been so clear in her eyes. He had seemed so real and he had looked so sad when her eyes had met his.

He had been whistling a happy tune and playing jokes with the apples but he was lonely and sad. Sometimes the hardest part of having her talent was seeing, sensing and feeling these poor lost souls who had not found peace in death. She almost hoped she wouldn’t see him today.. Maybe sometime in the last fifteen years he had found whatever his soul had been searching for and he was finally at rest.

888

Wyatt walked along the banks of the mighty Mississippi. Over the years this river had been a pathway for all manner of boats and people. Riverboats, barges, smaller fast boats all made their way down this river every day.

Today the river traffic was slower because the sky was angry and black and the rain was pouring down. Wyatt hated the rain. Rain kept the visitors away from the park and today even the guides had gone home early. No one was around but him as he wandered the grassy hillsides.

He could feel the sensations of the rain drops as they passed through his body. It was a lonely sensation that made him feel even less alive and even more alone than he already felt. Days like today were the days he tended to dwell on the miserable life he led, which was really no life at all. No one could see him. No one could hear him. No one could feel him and he felt nothing. He couldn’t feel the wind, the rain, or the sun. He felt no cold nor warmth.

He had left home at twenty four to join the U.S. Army and fight for the union. His father had joined at the same time and Wyatt had wanted to go along.. Keep him safe. To a twenty-four year old who had grown up loved and sheltered on a wheat farm in Kansas this had seemed like an easy thing to do. He had learned quick that war was, quite simply, hell. Months of walking long muddy paths. Little food, little water. One outfit per solider per year… The scents, the aches, the pains and the mental anguish had been worse than the actual battles which were actually few and far between. More men died every day from disease and dehydration than from battle wounds.

His father had been one to die from a battle wound. The doctor had had no choice but to try to saw off his leg and Wyatt had held his fathers blood covered hand as the man had screamed and then bled to death on the dirty cot.

Wyatt had continued on knowing that for the sake of his mother and sisters he had to keep fighting and end this war. He didn’t want his poor little sisters to have to see or live through any of this.

Then came that summer day in Vicksburg in 1863 when the bullet had taken his life. The wound was still there though it was now a scar. He often wondered how a ghost could have a scar from the wound that killed him. He supposed he would never know how that had happened and he supposed that truly it didn’t matter.

Wyatt was in a black mood today… When the clouds gathered and the rain fell he lost himself to these moods. In life he’d had no time for self pity.. In death he had plenty. He made his way toward the cemetery to stare at his stone.

888

“Closed?” Francine exclaimed as she stared out the windshield at the closed gate to the park. “We drove all this way and they’re closed?”

“It’s the rain I’m sure.” Janice replied as she turned the wipers up to a higher setting to ward off the downpour of raindrops. “We’ll just have to come back tomorrow.”

“There’s no time for that.” Francine said with a pout as she fell back against her seat. “We have to be back in Lexington by the day after tomorrow.. I didn’t plan on stopping here when I first laid out the timeline.”

“So if we want to see your soldier we have to do it today?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

“We can’t just go in there when they’re closed! That’s breaking and entering!” Francine exclaimed.

“Psh.” Janice said with a snort. “This is a tax funded park. We pay taxes so therefore this park is ours.”

“I think your logic is a little off.” Francine said as she looked out over the rolling hills. Janice shrugged.

“Do you want to see your soldier again or not? We can go set up in the barracks with our cameras and sound recorders. You never know we might get something.” Janice could tell that Francine still wasn’t convinced and she grabbed her arm and tugged it impatiently. “Come on! If we don’t try we’ll never know if he’s still here!”

Though it went against her better judgment, Francine agreed to break into the park and check out the barracks. It was easy to slip over the small fence and the women made their way through the rain to the barracks. They were soaking wet by the time they made it inside and they looked around at the small cots with their scratchy wool blankets. The walls were covered in pictures and facts about the battle and siege that took place here along with facts about the daily life of a union soldier during the siege.

“Is he here?” Janice asked her friend and Francine looked around and shook her head.

“I don’t feel anything.” she admitted. Janice shrugged and flopped her bag down on one of the cots.

“Let’s get the heat sensors out and the recorders.. Maybe we’ll hear or see something with those that we can’t without them.”

888

Wyatt made his way through the rain and back to the barracks. He found mild entertainment in the fact that although everything else was soaking wet from this steady downpour he and his uniform were completely dry. The sound of voices coming from inside the barracks had him stopping in his tracks. The park was closed, who in the world was here, this late in the day, during this kind of rain storm?

The voices were unfamiliar and definitely female. He walked through the wall and frowned at the two women he saw within. One of the women had pink streaks in her blond hair and she was wearing the brightest clothes he had ever seen on a grown woman. He had seen the styles change over the years and knew that women now wore much less clothes than they did when he’d been alive but the amount of tanned leg and stomach this woman was showing left very little to his imagination.

The other woman had her back to him. He liked the way her legs and backside looked in her jeans. He liked to look at women… He might be a ghost but that didn’t mean he was dead.. Okay so technically it did but things like ‘technicality’ didn’t really matter to him anymore. It’s not like these ladies would notice his eyes looking over them anyway.

The blue jean woman had thick black curls that were pulled back with a tie on her head and her blouse was loose and flowery. His eyes were drawn back to the blond. She had a camera held up to her eye and something Wyatt believed to be headphones over her ears. He wasn’t really up to date on technology but he had seen some things when people had come to the park before.

“Is there anyone here?” The blond asked loudly. “If you’re here please let your presence be known.” Wyatt smiled. Today might have started as one of his self pity packed, sad days but it was quickly showing signs of being entertaining. These women had obviously come into the park without permission and they were apparently ghost hunters. Well he certainly couldn’t disappoint. He was a ghost after all.. Or maybe a phantom… Possibly a lost soul… Either way he saw a way to have some fun and he was going to take it.

“Spirits please don’t be shy.” the blond said in her extra loud voice that had Wyatt grinning from ear to ear. Did the woman think he was deaf? “Can you here me?” the blond asked.

“Your voice could be heard over cannon fire, my dear.” he said as he looked around for something to pick up and scare the women.

It was hard to say who was more shocked. The dark haired woman who let out a squeak of surprise and turned at the sound of his voice or Wyatt who nearly lost his footing and fell when she stared straight at him.

“What do you see?” the blond demanded as the dark haired woman pointed and gasped at Wyatt. Her brown eyes were wide and scared. Wyatt took a tentative step forward and held up his hands to show he meant no harm.

“Yes, ma’am, what do you see?”

Chapter Three

“I was there in the winter of ‘64 when we camped in the ice at Nashville’s door. Three hundred miles our trail had led. We barely had time to bury our dead. When the yankees charged and the colors fell, overton hill was a living hell. When we called retreat it was almost dark, I died with a grapeshot in my heart. Say a prayer for peace. For every fallen son. Set my spirit free. Let me lay down my gun. Sweet Mother Mary i’m so tired, but i can’t come home til the last shots fired…” Trace Adkins “Til the last shots fired’

Francine swallowed hard several times as she looked at the man. ’ No, ghost.’ she reminded herself. He was not really a man. He looked like a man though. He looked just as solid as she and Janice did. Even in the old uniform it was clear that he was built like the toughest of war heroes. His shoulders were wide, his chest was broad and the leather strap that held his musket on his back cut across it, emphasizing his size. His waist and hips were lean and his legs were long.

But it was that face… She had known at ten years old that the ‘juggling soldier’ was handsome but now at twenty-five she could truly appreciate his looks. His chin was strong with a slight cleft in the center, his cheekbones were sharp, his nose was long and his lips were full and firm though his mouth was currently hanging open as he looked at her. His green eyes were wide with wonder, his dark brows were not overly thick and they had almost no arch as they raised in wonder to look at her. His skin was not pale as you would expect a ghost to be, instead it was tanned and rugged.

If he wasn’t dead he could be a movie star with those strong masculine features of his. But he was dead and these thoughts she was having were completely ridiculous.

“Francine, what do you see? The camera is picking up a heat reading by that wall.” Janice said, her voice shaky and excited all at the same time.

“Francine?” the ghost asked. His voice was deep and strong but still soothing.. Not the freaky kind of deep but just deep enough to add to his rugged toughness. Francine shook her head.

’ Stop it!’ she scolded herself. He is hundreds of years old and he is dead! She should be scared stiff of him and truthfully she was a little afraid but mostly she was curious, amazed and captivated.

“You can see me?” Wyatt asked as he took a step to the side as if testing to see if her eyes would follow him. She nodded.

“Yes, I can see you.” she said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she thought it did.

Wyatt couldn’t believe it. Was this the same Francine that had come to this park fifteen years ago? Was she that ten year old little girl who had spoken to him and haunted his thoughts since that day? Was it possible that she came back? He looked at the woman. Her brown eyes were wide and rich in color. She had freckles on her full cheeks and her heart shaped lips were pink and looked soft like satin. She was definitely beautiful even though she looked different than the women had been used to courting back before the war.

Her hair was thick, wild and curly though it was pulled back on her head and her pants showed off her shapely legs. Most of all he was just shocked to finally be around someone who could see him.. Someone he could talk to! He wasn’t about to run from her this time.

“What does he look like?” Janice demanded. “All I can see is a blob of heat!” Francine saw her friend pull out her tiny notepad and a piece of paper. The ghost took another step forward and Francine quickly stepped back.

“Don’t come any closer to me!” she exclaimed. He held up his hands.

“I won’t hurt you.” he promised and he sounded sincere. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve actually talked to somebody and had them talk back?” Francine shook her head and he smiled a heartthrob worthy smile that revealed lines in his handsome cheeks around his mouth. There she went again, thinking that the ghost was handsome… She decided that maybe she should speak to her therapist about this later.

“He’s about six foot two.” she replied as Janice began making notes on her notepad with the pen she had pulled from behind her ear. She had set the camera and headphones back down on one of the cots. “He’s wearing full union soldier gear.”

“Including the silly little hat.” Wyatt added, remembering that that’s what she had called it the last time they had met. Francine frowned.

“You remember me?” she asked and Wyatt nodded.

“Ghosts have memories?” Janice asked and when Francine nodded she beamed with excitement as she bounced up and down. “This is so great! Is he willing to talk to you about what his life is like as a ghost?”

“What do you want to know?” Wyatt asked only to remember that the blond couldn’t hear him. He growled with frustration and looked back at Francine. “What does she want to know?”

Francine sat down on one of the cots and Wyatt sat down across from her. Francine quickly scooted back to put more distance between their knees. They had been way too close for comfort in the tiny space between the cots.

“What do you want to ask him?” Francine asked Janice. Janice placed her forefinger on her chin as she thought for a moment and then she smiled.

“Can he still get a hard on?” Francine nearly choked on her tongue and she flushed bright red as she stared at her best friend in shock. Janice laughed and her blue eyes widened innocently. “What? That’s the kind of stuff people really want to know.”

“What’s a hard on?” Wyatt asked. Francine stood up quickly and walked several steps away as she laughed and threw her hands in the air.

“This isn’t happening.” she said out loud. “I am not having a conversation with a two-hundred year old ghost about whether or not he can get aroused. If you want an answer to that question, Janice, you’re going to have to wait until you find your own ghost.” Janice barked out a laugh as she made some scribbles in her notepad. She held the notepad up and Francine saw that she had drawn a very crude chicken which greatly resembled a goose.

“Cluck cluck.” Francine said dryly. She looked back at the ghost who was studying her with interest.

“Hard on means arousal?” he asked and Francine blushed blood red and stared down at her feet. She needed to repaint her toenails, they were getting a little chipped. Wyatt wondered why the blond would ask such a question. Maybe she was a saloon whore. If so he sincerely hoped that Francine wasn’t one. He still couldn’t believe that she had come back and in his eyes she was an angel, if only because she could hear and see him.

“What is your name?” Francine asked, deciding to keep the conversation a little more G-rated. Janice made a big show of yawning behind her hand and Wyatt chose to ignore the blond (she annoyed him) and focus instead of Francine.

“Wyatt Montgomery, ma’am. And I’m not two hundred years old. I was born in 1837 so I’m one hundred and seventy-three.” Francine nodded.

“His name is Wyatt Montgomery and he was born in 1837.” she said for Janice’s benefit and Janice quickly made some notes on her paper.

“How was he killed?” Janice asked and Francine looked over at Wyatt and waited for the answer. He stood from the cot and removed his hat. He ran his hand through his thick dark hair, which fell carelessly back across his forehead.

“I was shot to death by a Johnny Reb back in 1863.” he said, though he hated talking about what had happened that day, he would tell Francine anything just as long as she kept talking to him.

“He was shot by a confederate soldier.” Francine told Janice.

“Did it hurt?” Janice asked as she chewed on the tip of her pen and Francine rolled her eyes.

“Well I’m sure it didn’t feel good.” she replied and Wyatt laughed and was so shocked by the sound that he stopped quickly and put his hand on his throat. Francine looked at Wyatt and smiled.

“Humor her.” she said. “Answer her question.”

“I died pretty quick, ma’am.” he said as he pulled his hat back on. “But yeah, it hurt.” Francine found herself staring into his green eyes. This amazed her. She had never had a ghost seem so alive before. She wondered if maybe she could reach out and touch him. She took a step forward and reached a tentative hand toward his arm but he quickly moved away and out of her reach.

“I don’t like to be touched.” he said apologetically. In truth he was enjoying feeling like he was alive again. Talking to Francine and having her look into his eyes gave him that. But if she tried to touch him and her fingers slipped through him it would be a harsh reminder of reality.

“He um….” Francine shook her head as she took a step back. “He said he died quickly but that yes it hurt. And he also doesn’t like to be touched.”

“Touchaphobe.” Janice said as she scribbled in her notebook. ’Got it.“

“Your friend says weird things.” Wyatt said to Francine and Francine smiled.

“Yes she does. That’s why I love her.” Wyatt nodded but looked confused.

“What did he say about me?” Janice demanded.

“That you’re weird.” Francine replied and Janice snorted.

“He does realize that he’s an old dead ghost wearing a silly hat right?”

“She looks like one of them birds in them clothes of hers… A … what are they called.. Oh yeah, a parrot.” Wyatt replied. Francine laughed lightly.

“He says to hush because you look like a parrot.” she told Janice and Janice readjusted her tube top and shrugged. Francine looked at Wyatt to find that his eyes were watching Janice’s movements as she adjusted her ample chest in her shirt. Francine rolled her eyes. Even in death men were pigs. She sighed and crossed her arms over her much smaller chest.

“Are there any other spirits that linger around here?” she asked. Wyatt shrugged and turned his attention back to her.

“If there are then they’re as invisible to me as I am to the world.” he replied. Francine could sense his sadness and it made her sad for him.

“Why are you stuck here? Why didn’t you pass on?” she asked. Wyatt picked up a fake box of matches that decorated one of the tiny tables and tossed it up and down.

“Wow.” Janice gasped as she followed the up and down motion of the matchbox with her eyes. Wyatt smiled a sad half smile when he looked back at Francine.

“That, ma’am, is the ten thousand dollar question.” he replied. Francine looked outside and saw that the rain had stopped falling.

“Do you think you could show us where you are buried?” she asked. Wyatt nodded.

“I can show you my stone. I have no way of knowing for sure that’s my body down there below it.”

“That’s okay. We’d like to get some pictures of it.” Wyatt shrugged and headed for the door.

“Come on then.” he said. Francine motioned for Janice.

“Come on, he’s going to take us to his grave.” Francine watched Wyatt reach out and open the door.

“Can’t you pass through them?” she asked and he nodded.

“But you can’t and I was raised to open doors for a lady.” Francine rolled her eyes.

“Look at that, chivalry isn’t dead after all.” then she frowned. “Actually I guess it is.”

“Yes, ma’am, it died back in 1863.” Wyatt replied with a grin and Francine laughed.

“You seem to be having fun with the dead guy.” Janice said as she grabbed Francine’s arm and pulled her back a few steps behind Wyatt, who continued to lead the way across the wet grass.

“He has a sense of humor that I find entertaining.” Francine replied.

“Is he hot?” Janice asked. Francine rolled her eyes.

“He’s dead, Jan.” she replied. Janice shrugged.

“Minor setback.” she said. “Is he hot?”

“He’s…. nice… to look at.” Francine replied, though that was probably the understate of the century. Janice laughed and Francine glared at her best friend and then quickened her pace to fall into step beside Wyatt, though she noticed that he stepped to the side to keep a few feet of distance between their bodies.

“Did you have a family, Wyatt?” Francine asked and he nodded.

“I joined the army with my father. He was killed early on in the war. I kept fighting for my mother and my three little sisters.”

“What happened to them after you died?” Wyatt shrugged and she could tell that he didn’t want to discuss that any further. They had entered the cemetery and to Francine the rows of stone all looked the same but Wyatt seemed to have a particular destination in mind.

“There it is.” he said, pointing at one of the thousands of white stones. Francine and Janice both stood before the stone and looked down at it. Janice pulled out her phone and took several pictures.

“Hey you!” An angry voice shouted out. “You’re not supposed to be in here! This park is closed!’ Francine and Janice looked up to see a security guard coming toward them.

“Forgot about him.” Wyatt said simply when Francine gave him an accusing look.

“We were doing some research.” Janice said with a one hundred watt smile lighting up her face. The security guard was a middle aged man with balding gray hair and a pot belly and clearly he wasn’t used to attractive young women smiling at him.

“Well ma’am, I’m afraid the park is closed.” he said much more politely. “Why don’t you two come back in the morning?”

“I think we’ve got all we need.” Janice said and Francine nodded. “Could you escort us back to our car?”

“Of course. It’s getting late out here. You have to watch out for the Ghost of Vicksburg.”

“Really?” Janice asked as she and the guard began walking away. Francine followed and realized that Wyatt was walking beside her.

“Yes really, a dangerous ghost. Deadly really.” the guard replied. Wyatt chuckled.

“I threw a rock at him once.” he replied. “Ever since he’s convinced that I’m evil.”

“Why did you throw a rock at him?” Francine whispered.

“He sat on my cot and was eating crackers. It just seemed rude so I threw a rock at him. Not like I could politely ask him to stop.”

“I heard the ghost could juggle.” Janice told the guard and he laughed.

“Who told you something so ridiculous? He might juggle severed heads but that’d be about it.” Wyatt made a face. That was just disgusting. He scanned the ground for a rock. He saw a small one and stooped to pick it up.

“Don’t you dare throw that.” Francine scolded. The guard looked back at her and gave her a puzzled look.

“Throw what?” he asked. She blushed and picked at her shirt as she shrugged.

“Nothing. I didn’t realize I spoke out loud.” she said quickly. The guard shrugged and turned his attention back to Janice.

“We have to go, Wyatt Montgomery. I hope your soul finds peace.” Francine whispered. Wyatt felt panic set in as he stood back straight without the rock. She couldn’t leave him… Not again!

“Where do you live?” he asked. “Is it close? Could you come visit me now and then?” he added with desperation.

“No…” Francine replied, frowning at the odd request. She wasn’t about to tell the ghost where she lived. The last thing she needed was a dead union solder showing up on her doorstep.

Wyatt frowned and then disappeared before her eyes. She looked all around for him but he was gone. She couldn’t explain the strange ache she felt in her chest and she shrugged it off. Surely she was just feeling a little sad because she was saying goodbye to the ghost she considered ‘hers’. He had been her solider man since she’d been ten. At least now she had some proof that he existed. Between the heat camera’s, the notes and hopefully sound the recorders had caught no one would be able to tell her she was crazy for talking about the soldier ghost again.

888

Wyatt watched from the barrack window as the two women climbed into the beat up automobile. His heart literally ached with loneliness at the thought of Francine leaving. He enjoyed talking to someone. He enjoyed being seen. Could he live without it? That was a stupid question he supposed since he wasn’t alive to begin with but the thought of losing what connection he had with Francine filled him with an ache so strong it made getting shot seem easy.

He could go with her… Couldn’t he? He’d never tried to leave the park before. He had never seen a point in leaving the somewhat familiar surroundings for something new. He closed his eyes and transported himself outside of the fence, hiding behind one of the trees. Hiding was something new for him but he didn’t want Francine to see him.

Now he knew he could leave the park if he chose but could he choose to leave it behind? This had been home for one hundred and forty seven years. But as the automobile fired to life with a roar Wyatt knew it couldn’t be home anymore. He wanted to be seen. He wanted to be heard. The only place to do that was wherever Francine was. He closed his eyes again and transported himself into the back of the beat up automobile. He curled up the best he could in the very back between the back row of seats and the back door. He was careful to make sure not to let any body parts pass through the walls of the automobile. Surely that would cause some unneeded concern if Francene saw arms and legs hanging out of the  car.

Filled with a new hope for his future, Wyatt decided to close his eyes and get some rest. He could hear Francine and Janice talking up front and it comforted him. For the first time since his death, Wyatt Montgomery was not alone.

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Come to the bar with me," Janice begged Francine once the two women were settled into their apartment the next day.  

Francine shook her head, "I'm tired," she replied. "I'll stay in, look over the notes, write down what else the ghost said and listen through the tapes. I have to get my article done by tomorrow and I have a lot of work to do with all the information we gathered the last month."  

"Now I feel guilty," Janice whimpered with a pout as she slid into her barely there little black dress. "Should I stay and help you?"  

Francine settled back on the worn out, but heavenly soft couch and shook her head, "This isn't even your job and you've done enough already. Go ahead and have fun. I can manage on my own."  

 Janice nodded, "I'll finish up what you don't get done tomorrow morning."  

"Go have fun. The article is for my job not yours."  

"You should call Gregory and let him know you're home," Janice urged. "Maybe he'd come keep you company."  

"He's away on business. We have a dinner date Friday," Francine replied.  

Janice rolled her eyes as she pulled her hair up and secured it with a clip, "He's always away on business. Honestly I don't know why you waste time on that man."  

Francine simply shook her head at her friends usual complaints about her boyfriend and began looking through the folder full of notes and stories they had collected, "He's a good man," she muttered distractedly.  

"No, he's not. He won't even introduce you to his family and he doesn't want to meet yours. He doesn't believe that you have the special gifts that you do when it comes to ghosts and he won't let you talk about your job around him because he thinks it's foolish. He's a rich, snobby jackass with bad hair and big teeth," Janice argued as she stuck her dangling, faux diamond earrings in her ears.   

"That's mean," Francine scolded and then she looked toward the kitchen. She would have sworn she saw movement but there was nothing there. Probably just her eyes playing tricks on her because she was exhausted.  

"The truth hurts," Janice replied as she slid her feet into her four inch bright red heels. "How do I look?"  

"Like a movie star." Francine assured her as she looked at her best friend. Janice really knew how to play the sexpot role when she wanted to. Francine looked down at her own blue flannel pants and oversized gray t-shirt and sighed.  

"You sure you don't want to come?" Janice asked again.  

"I'm sure."  She had always been a homebody. She had never cared much for going out.  

Janice shrugged and kissed her cheek before winking, "Don't work too hard and don't wait up on me. I plan on having fun."  

"Please be careful and call me if you need me."  

"Yes, mom," Janice waved her hand as she walked out the door and shut it behind her.  

Francine decided that there was no point sitting out here on the couch while listening to the tapes that Janice had recorded. She might as well do that while enjoying a nice hot bath. She grabbed the tapes and headphones and walked to the bathroom. She laid them on the floor beside the tub and started the water. After adding some cinnamon spice scented bubbles to the water she walked back to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.  

It might be more common to enjoy wine during a relaxing bath but Francine lived on a beer and chips budget  not champagne and caviar. She grabbed a cup from the cupboard. It looked like a fancy glass but really it was made of plastic and she and Janice had bought a set of them on New Years Eve to sip their white grape cider out of.  

Francine made her way back to the bathroom and slipped out of her clothes. She slid her body down into the water, gasping as the heat shocked her skin at first but then began to ease her tired muscles. She put the headphones on, pushed play on the tape player and then sank down to her neck in the bubbles and water. She listened through the first tape which was from a captains quarters at Fort Sumter. It was empty just as she had figured it would be. She opened her eyes to choose a new tape and screamed.  

Wyatt nearly fell backwards off of the indoor outhouse he was sitting on at the sound of her scream. He held his hands up and stood quickly, "Calm down." he pleaded, doing his best to sound soothing.  

Francine naked body sank further into the water and she said a silent prayer of thanks for cinnamon spice scented bubbles, "What in the hell are you doing here?!" she exclaimed.  

Wyatt grinned sheepishly and picked at the towel hanging from the wooden rack on the wall, "I uh.. I rode back with you from Vicksburg." 	Francine rolled her eyes, "I figured that much." she said dryly. "I meant what the hell are you doing in my bathroom while I take a bath!"  

"I wanted to see if you could still see me," he replied simply.  

"Yes I can see you! And just how much of me did you see?"  

Wyatt's green eyes narrowed, "What kind of man did you think I am?! I wouldn't peek on a woman when she wasn't decent."  

Francine snorted, "Well you are sitting in my bathroom, on my toilet, while I'm naked and taking a bath! How much less decent can I get?!" 	Wyatt looked down at the cool, white thing he'd been sitting on, "This is called a toilet? I thought it was an indoor outhouse." he shrugged and then looked back at her, "Those bubbles got ya covered," he promised. "Do you want to know why I followed you?"  

"Yes, but can we wait until I'm out of the bath?" she asked. "Go wait for me in the living room."  

"Living room?" he asked as he raised one of his brows.  

Francine was annoyed until she remembered that he was from another time period. She thought about what word she should use, "Sitting room," she offered. "The room with the long brown sofa."  

Wyatt nodded and walked toward the bathroom door, "I'm sorry I scared you." he said and she nodded and waved him away.  

Francine stared in shock as he walked straight through the wall. It was so hard to think of him as a ghost when he looked and sounded so solid and alive. She stood up and stepped from the tub, drying herself quickly with her towel and then pulling her flannel pants and t-shirt back on.   

She looked in the mirror and debated letting her hair loose, or putting on make-up and then scolded herself for being ridiculous. The man was a ghost, did it really matter what she looked like when she talked to him? She walked out into the living room and tried to tell herself that she wasn't happy to see that he was sitting there waiting on her. Why had he followed her here?  

"Do ghosts eat, Wyatt? Are you hungry?"  

Wyatt shook his head and stood from the couch when she entered the room, "I don't eat." He motioned at the couch, "Please sit."   

Francine nodded and walked around to take a seat at the far end of the couch. He sat down on the other end, "So why did you follow me?"

"Because you can see me and you can respond when I talk to you. It has been one hundred and forty seven years since I've had a conversation with anyone."  

"You can't stay here," Francine argued gently, finding the sadness in his green eyes to be heart breaking.   

"I know," Wyatt agreed with a curt nod, "It wouldn't be right of me to stay alone in a house with two unmarried women. There's an empty apartment next door, I'll stay there. I just want to be around someone who can see me."

 Francine sat there quietly for a moment and then sighed, "I understand that. I want to help you Wyatt. I want to help your soul find peace."  

Wyatt was uncomfortable with all of the soul at peace talk, "I don't think there is anything to put my soul at peace," he replied sadly. Then he looked down at the papers on the small end table. "So what are you doing here?"  

Francine knew this was crazy. She should not feel comfortable with a dead man sitting beside her alone in her apartment but the fact was she did feel comfortable, "I have the rough draft of an article due tomorrow," she replied. "I work for a publishing company and I write a supernatural article for their newspaper. Janice and I were on a month long trip to different civil war battle sights learning stories and trying to find proof of spirits for our article and Vicksburg was our last stop."  

"Did you all ever get to Port Royal?" Wyatt asked while looking down at the scarred up wood floors beneath his scuffed up black leather boots.  

"No, we didn't," Francine replied. "Why?"  

"My father was killed there. I hope he's not stuck like me."  	Francine wished there was something she could say to ease his mind but she knew there was not, "I really have to get all of this sorted out and get this article written. I'll be lucky to have it done by tomorrow."  

"Where's the blond? Shouldn't she help you?" Wyatt asked.  

"Janice? She went out. She doesn't work with me, she was just helping because we're friends. She's a waitress."  

"Waitress?"  

"She serves food to people at restaurants."  

Wyatt nodded with understanding, "I thought she was a saloon woman. Good to know I was wrong," he said as he picked up a piece of paper about Gettysburg and read over it.  

"Why in the world would you think that Janice was a saloon girl?!" Francine demanded as she folded her legs beneath her and grabbed her laptop to start on her article.  

Wyatt looked at the computer as if it were some sort of alien technology completely foreign to this world and tilted his head, "Because of her clothes," he replied. "What is that thing?"  

"This is called a laptop computer. You can write on it and you can talk to anyone anywhere in the world or learn anything you want to learn with the press of a button," she informed him distractedly. "What about Janice's clothes would make you think she was that kind of woman? She's a very nice person."  

"I'm sure she is," Wyatt agreed, "Most of 

those women are. So how does it work? Does it run off of electricity?“

"Yes and it has something called the internet which is run off of cable which is a system of wires and satellites and things."  

"Satellites?"  

"In space."  

"Space?"  

"Oh never mind!" Francine exclaimed with exasperation. "I'll have you know that Janice is not a whore and that prostitution is illegal nowadays in this country."  

Wyatt seemed more surprised and confused by this than he had been the computer. "Really? That's surprising. What other jobs are there for women?" 	

Francine glared at him and then forced herself to remember that he had lived and died long before women's rights movements, "Women can work pretty much any job a man works now. We can vote too and have our own land and property and we never have to get married if we don't want to. We don't even need men to have children anymore."  

Wyatt's eyes widened at her last statement, "Well how in the hell did you all manage that?"  

"Science," she replied simply. She was in no hurry to have the sperm, egg, test tube discussion with this man right now.  

Wyatt harrumphed and leaned back against the couch. Francine knew that all this work was going to take her all night. She might as well take advantage of the civil war heroes presence since he insisted on being here.  

"Would you help me with all of this?" she asked.  

Wyatt smiled. He would definitely help her. Just for talking to him he would give her the moon and the stars if he could manage to grab them, "Of course I will. I have some hands-on expertise in all of this paranormal ghosts of the civil war business," he replied with a wink.  

Francine smiled and flopped all the folders down on the couch between them, "Then start reading these to me, soldier boy."

---

It was hours that the two of them sat and worked on Francine’s article. Wyatt told her stories of the hardships of walking on foot from battle to battle. He told her that while he could pick things up, or pass through them at will, he couldn’t touch other people and he couldn’t truly feel anything.

She had seemed really saddened by this news so Wyatt had quickly changed the subject and told her stories about how he had tortured tourists and park guides over the years. She had laughed and it had been the best sound that Wyatt had ever heard.  

Now she was sound asleep with her laptop in her lap as she lay sideways with her head on the arm of the couch. Wyatt pondered this mystery woman who could see and hear him when no one else could. She was much different from the women in his day. She was independent and had a good job. She could vote. She had strong opinions and wasn't afraid to share them. She was twenty-five, unmarried and not bothered by that fact. When he'd been alive if a woman was twenty-five and unmarried she was an embarrassment to her family and considered to be an old maid.  

Francine was beautiful but in a different way than any woman he'd found beautiful before. She didn't seem to care much about the clothes that she wore and she didn't paint her face like so many other women did. Her beauty was natural and pure and innocent.  If only he wasn't a one hundred and seventy-three year old ghost... If only he could touch her and have her feel him and be able to feel her as well.  

He sighed and stood up from the couch. There was no point thinking thoughts like that. They would only lead to more depression and sadness and the Lord knew he didn't need any more of that. He would just be grateful that he had finally found someone he could talk to.  

He laid all the files and papers on the table and grabbed her laptop from her. He pushed it closed and laid it on the table as well. He thought of waking her so she could go to her bed but she looked so peaceful and tired that he didn't want to. If he wasn't a ghost he would pick her up and carry her to the bed but he was so that also was not an option.  

Wyatt grabbed a small blanket off a chair in the corner and draped it over her, careful not to touch her. If he didn't touch her he could almost convince himself that this was real. That he was a real man and she was his woman and he was tucking her in after a long night of laughing and talking.  

Laughing and talking... It had been so long since he'd done either of those things and he had never done them with any woman other than family members. Women had only been for one thing back when he'd been alive.  He bent over her and kept his face an inch from hers, pressing a kiss to the air above her forehead before turning and walking through the wall and into the empty apartment next door.

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

A knock on the apartment door woke Francine from her dreams of civil war battles. She forced her sleep filled eyes open and ground her fists into them in an attempt to clear them out. The knock sounded again and she looked at the clock on the wall. It was eight in the morning. Francine jumped to her feet, only then noticing the blanket she had been covered with.  

Her eyes scanned the room and looked into the kitchen for any sign of Wyatt but he wasn't here and Janice's shoes were not by the door so clearly she had stayed somewhere else last night. It wasn't unusual for Janice to stay away when she went out so Francine wasn't concerned. She was however a little freaked out to realize that she had fallen asleep while a ghost had been sitting on her couch and that said ghost had proceeded to cover her with a blanket and close down her computer before leaving.  

The knock sounded again and Francine rolled her eyes, "I'm coming," she grumbled. She was not a morning person.

 She shuffled across the hardwood floor and jerked open the door to find Wyatt standing there with a smile on his face and a Starbucks cup in his hand. Without hesitation Francine reached out and took the cup, savoring the hot liquid as she sipped and let it wash over her tongue.  

Wyatt chuckled, "I take it you're not a morning person, ma'am?"  

"No I'm not." She stepped aside to let him enter. "And stop calling me ma'am."  

"Okay. I figured you would be tired after working so late last night and coffee always used to help me, ma'am," he replied and then he laughed at the annoyed expression on her sleep lined face. Her hair had come loose from the tie she'd had it held back with and it was a mess of curls around her head. "I can't help it. I was raised to call a lady ma'am."  

"I guess us women just aren't used to gentlemen anymore," Francine said wistfully as she shut the door and then took another sip of her coffee.  

"Maybe men are less of gentlemen now because women are less ladylike than they used to be." He saw her eyes narrow and rushed to explain. "What I mean is that back when I was alive women were softer. They needed men to take care of them. Give them a house, provide for them, make sure there was money for food, clothes and whatever else they wanted. Nowadays women make their own money, they have their own houses, according to you they can even have babies on their own. Kinda takes some of the usefulness right out of a man's sails."  

Francine walked over to the couch and sat down and he sat on the other end, "So male pride is what has men acting like jerks nowadays?" she asked with the raise of a small, arched brow.

 Wyatt shook his head, "No, a man should always be a gentleman and his pride be damned."  

 Francine took another sip of her coffee and looked away from him. He was too handsome and kind for his own good, or for her own good for that matter. He was dead after all. She needed to help him find peace and have his soul move on.

"Thank you for the coffee." she said and then she frowned. "But how did you pay for it?"  

Wyatt grinned sheepishly and scratched at the back of his neck, where his wool collar always rubbed against him, "I didn't exactly." He shrugged at the judgmental look she threw him. "How exactly am I supposed to pay for things?" he demanded. "It's not like very many employers are rushing to hire a one hundred and seventy-three year old dead man."  

Francine had to smile and then she stood up, "I'll be right back," she said. "I need to get ready for work, get the finishing touches on this article and then get gone."  

Wyatt nodded and watched her walk away before he stood and walked into the kitchen. He knew that Francine needed breakfast and from the way she talked that had been the last thing on her mind. He knew from the employee lounge at the park that the large humming white rectangle in the corner was called a refrigerator and it kept things cold. He opened the door and scanned with his eyes until he found the eggs, milk and cheese he was looking for. He might not eat now but he used to and since he'd been so much older than all his sisters he had often helped his mama with the cooking to take some of the workload off of her.  

He had never used an electric stove before but the knobs were easy enough to figure out and soon he had the eggs cracked and the milk and cheese all mixed in. He found a whisk and used it to stir the eggs while they scrambled.  

Wyatt heard the front door open and close and glanced around the corner to see the blond, Janice, walking in the house. She had clearly spent the night out and Wyatt again suspected that she was more than just a waitress. What kind of proper woman wore such revealing clothes and stayed out all night? Her black dress showed off the ample curves of her chest and backside. Her stomach was flat and her hips were delicately curved. Wyatt had once preferred women like Janice but now.... Now didn't matter.

Now he was dead. He was a ghost who could only be seen and heard by one person and he was going to make sure that he did whatever he could to help out the woman who had made him feel alive again. He went back to cooking and then he heard a gasp from the living room entrance to the kitchen. He was scooping the eggs onto a plate and turned to see Janice standing slack jawed in the doorway, gripping the door frame tight in her hands.  

"Francine!" she exclaimed. "Why are there floating dishes and self scrambling eggs in the kitchen?"  

Wyatt laughed lightly and made his way to the cupboard. He pulled out a glass and filled it with milk before grabbing an orange and slicing it with his knife from his belt.  

"Okay and now there is self pouring milk, floating cups, and oranges that cut themselves!" Janice added, her voice rising a bit higher.  

"It's just Wyatt and I'm coming," Francine called.  

Wyatt was just sitting everything on the table when Francine walked in. His eyes widened at the sight of her in her black pencil skirt and red blouse. The neckline was low cut and ruffled and the sleeves were wide at top and tight around her elbows where they stopped. Her body was long, willowy and delicate. She had her hair pulled back tight and secured in a bun on the back of her head with a pencil. She had light makeup around her eyes and gloss on her full lips. Wyatt nearly tripped over his boots as he moved to pull her chair out.  

"You made me breakfast?" she asked.

 He nodded, "I thought you might be hungry."   

"Why is the civil war ghost here and cooking you breakfast?" Janice asked as she sat her purse down on the counter.

 Francine shrugged as she sat down and Wyatt pushed her chair back in, "He followed me home." she replied simply.

 Francine looked down at the breakfast Wyatt had prepared for her and oddly enough she felt a tear in the corner of her eye that she quickly blinked away.

 Francine had always been a very independent person. As a child her parents had both worked full time and Francine had fed herself and gotten herself to and from school. She had tucked herself in at night and then moved out as soon as she had graduated high school. She'd lived alone for about a year before Janice had moved in with her to split the rent.  

Having someone to care for her was something very new. To have someone to cover her with a blanket after she had fallen asleep and then bring her coffee because he knew she'd been up all night and would be tired, someone who cooked her breakfast because he knew she had no time to cook it herself was something she had never had.  

Francine tried to think of a single time that Gregory had gone out of his way to help her in the last year they'd been together but nothing jumped out at her. Then she shook her head and told herself that comparing Wyatt to Gregory was both unfair and foolish. Wyatt was not a real man, he was a ghost and Gregory was her boyfriend.  

"Thank you Wyatt," Francine said and she saw the anticipation on his face as she stuff the first fork full of eggs into her mouth. "This is delicious," she moaned.   

"Where's mine?" Janice asked as she walked toward the table. Being raised the way he had, had Wyatt racing to her side of the table and pulling out her chair. 	

"I will cook more," he said, though he knew that only Francine could hear him.  

Francine shook her head, "Janice already ate, she's just giving you a hard time. She always makes her 

friends feed her before she comes home.“

Janice snorted, "Hey just because you're boring and have a boring boyfriend doesn't mean the rest of us young, single ladies can't have a little fun."  

Wyatt was waiting on the water coming from the sink to get hot so he could wash the dishes and he felt himself tense at Janice's words.  

"Gregory isn't boring, he just works a lot," Francine argued.  

Janice yawned into her hand and Francine slapped her arm, "You might as well be honest with me! I'm your best friend!" Janice exclaimed as she stole a slice of Francine's orange.

 Wyatt grabbed another orange off the counter and peeled and sliced it before setting it on a plate and plopping it down in front of Janice. He might as well make nice with the woman who was going to tell him all about Gregory just as soon as Francine left for work.  

"Gregory is...." Francine started and then she looked at Wyatt who was busy washing up the breakfast dishes. She bit her lip and wondered why she was worrying about hurting his feelings. "I don't have time for this right now. I have to go. I'll finish up the article when I get to work."  

She stood quickly and picked up her dishes. Wyatt sidestepped her quickly to avoid bodily contact as she put the dishes in the sink, "Thank you for breakfast, Wyatt and for the coffee."  

"It was my pleasure, ma'am," he replied. "What time will you be home?"  

"Around five or six I guess. Maybe a little later. Will you be okay here alone?"

"He's not alone," Janice said around a mouthful of orange slice. "He has me to keep him company, don't ya, army man."  

"Exactly," Wyatt agreed with a nod. "You don't mind that I'm here do you? I hope you understand that I just want to be around someone who can see me......"  

"I understand, Wyatt, and I promise to try to help you find a way to move on to the other side."

 Wyatt frowned. Now that he'd met Francine he wasn't sure he wanted to move on to the other side, "Be careful at work, ma'am. Good luck with your article."  

"Thank you," she replied. "And quit calling me ma'am, call me Francine."  

"That's too big a name for a tiny thing like you." he countered with a grin and she shook her head.  

"Well think of something other than ma'am and you can tell me tonight."   

"It is really strange to hear you having a conversation with yourself," Janice noted with a tilt of her head.

 Francine rolled her eyes and walked into the living room. She slipped her computer and files into a black leather satchel and put it over her shoulder. She slid her feet into her favorite black flats (heels were her least favorite thing in the world and it would be a cold day in hell before she wore them) and opened the apartment door.  

"Shit, my keys." she said, realizing she'd have to walk back across the living room to grab them and that was going to waste valuable minutes she didn't have. Wyatt saw them on the table and grabbed them. He tossed them through the air and she caught them with a smile.  

"I might get used to having you around, soldier boy," Wyatt laughed and she walked out and shut the door behind her.  

"Alright, Casper, I'm going to go take a shower. I'm not sure if you're still here or where you are but I'm trusting that you will keep your ghost eyes to yourself," Janice warned as she looked all around the living room. Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Would you pick something up or move something if you're here so that I know where you're at?" she added.

 Wyatt looked around and saw a pen lying on the table beside the couch. He picked it up and Janice smiled, "Thanks, Casper. I'll be back in a jiff. Go ahead and finish up those dishes if you want to."  

Wyatt dropped the pen back on the table and walked into the kitchen and began cleaning the rest of the dishes. He could hear Janice in the shower and he thought about how he was going to communicate with her. He wanted to learn all he could about this Gregory-- Not that the man or Francine's relationship with him was any of his business, but he didn't want Francine to be with someone who would hurt her and since Janice didn't seem to like him maybe there was something wrong with Gregory.  

Wyatt finished up the dishes though drying his hands wasn't necessary since they weren't wet. It was strange that he could stick his hands in water, stay dry and feel nothing. He walked back into the living room and saw the pen lying on the table with a stack of paper beside it. Writing had never been Wyatt's strong point but that might be the only way to communicate with Janice. He sat down on the couch and picked up the pen.  

When Janice came back into the living room she gasped at the piece of paper floating in the air. She grabbed her chest and then took a deep breath as she reminded herself that there was a dead man living here with them now. That could take some getting used to. The paper shook in the air and Janice walked over. She grabbed it, feeling a cold chill pass through her and wondered if she had just touched the ghost.  

Wyatt jerked his hand back quickly once she had the paper. Nothing better to remind a man that he was dead than having another human being pass right through him.  

Janice sat down on the couch with the paper and Wyatt sat beside her. She looked down at the messy writing on the paper.  

I no you all reddy no my name but I want to tell you myself. I am Wyatt Montgomery.

Janice smiled and looked at where she hoped Wyatt was, "Your spelling leaves something to be desired but it's nice to meet you, Wyatt Montgomery. My name is Janice Martin."  

Wyatt chuckled. Janice was currently looking the opposite direction of where he was sitting. He reached out and tugged on the paper and Janice squeaked with surprise and released it.  

She watched in amazement as the pen moved across the paper and words appeared,

Nice to meat you maam. I got to the 3 grade of skool and had to stop cuz my famly needed help with mony. 


 

Janice bit her lip and felt a little guilty for teasing him. She looked over at where she guessed his face was, “Well, Casper, are you going to be living here now?” she asked.

Next door in a empty spot. Fra..  Fran.... Franny is the first person who can see me or heer me.

Janice nearly laughed out loud at his scratched out attempts at spelling Francine's name. "Franny?"  

Cant spell. 


"Franny suits her," Janice assured him with a laugh. She'd just about bet that Francine would smack her ghost friend for calling her Franny. 



How long you and Franny ben frends?

“Since high school so about twelve years now.”

She is a gud person. 


Janice nodded, "The best person I know."  

Who is that fella you were tawking about

"Gregory?"  

Yes.


Janice wondered why he was asking. Was it possible that Casper had a crush on Francine? Oh dear. What had her friend gotten herself into this time? "Gregory is a prick and he is also Francine's boyfriend. Though their relationship hardly qualifies as a relationship since he only comes around about once or twice a month. He brings her some kind of fancy gift, takes her out to dinner, and then satisfies his urges before taking off again for 'business'."   

Wyatt fell anger and jealousy fill him. How dare some man not treat Francine like an angel! If she were his woman, she would always know how much he cared about her. There would never be a day that she would come second.... But she wasn't his, would never be his, could never be his and he'd do well to remember that.  

She shud have a gud man.

"I agree. Gregory won't talk to her about her job because he considers it to be foolish and he won't allow her to meet his family because he considers her to be below them. He also doesn't want to meet her family because he is too high class for regular people like them."  

Wyatt decided right then that he didn't like Gregory. He would have to see what he could do to make sure Francine left the jerk. She deserved someone who would treat her so much better than that.  

Asshole

"You spelled that one right," Janice said with a smile and then she yawned. "Well Casper I'm going to be getting to bed. I have to work the late shift at the restaurant tonight. Is there anything else you were wanting to know?"  

Yes

“Out with it then ghost boy.”

What is a Casper?

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Francine unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment at a few minutes after six that night. She was tired, her article had done well but her boss, Percy Henderson, had informed everyone that the company bigwigs were making cut backs and her job was one of the positions in jeopardy.  

Francine didn't know what she would do if she lost her job. Though Janice helped with the rent most of the other bills fell on Francine since her job was higher paying. She had been working for the paper for four years and it was the best job she could possibly hope to have. She loved her job.  

She tossed her bag onto the couch and kicked off her shoes roughly, enjoying watching them fly across the room and bounce off the wall.  

Wyatt walked out of the kitchen just in time to see her pull the pencil and tie from her hair and all her curls sprang loose as she sighed, closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.  

"Rough day?" he asked softly.  

Francine's eyes flew open and she covered her pounding heart with her hand, "You scared me!" she exclaimed. She had thought she was alone since she knew that Janice had already left for her shift.  

Wyatt smiled, "I'm sorry, Franny."  

Francine laughed and raised her brow at him, "Franny?"  

"You said not to call you ma'am anymore and I don't think Francine suits you so I'm going to call you Franny."  

"You can't just change my name because you don't like it, Wyatt." Francine took a deep breath and smelled garlic.  

"I cooked dinner for you," Wyatt told her.  

Francine didn't know what to say. This man was taking care of her better than even her own parents had. Why couldn't he be real? He was perfect except for the minor detail of being dead.  

"In that case you can call me whatever you want," Francine joked.

 Wyatt smiled and led her into the kitchen where he had a plate of spaghetti waiting on her. He pulled her chair out and she sat down, "You didn't have to do this for me," Francine assured him.  

Wyatt just shrugged as he got a beer from the refrigerator and sat it on the table in front of her, "I didn't have anything else to do," he replied. "I found a book with recipes in it and there was one for spaghetti. Thankfully you had everything here to make the sauce because I'm sure floating tomatoes at the market would have caused a commotion."  

"You made homemade sauce? I had cans...."  

"My knife was too dull to cut them open," he replied with a shrug.  

"You use a can opener," Francine informed him.   

"A what?" Wyatt asked with a frown.  

Francine shook her head, "Never mind."  

Wyatt shrugged and sat down in the chair across from her, "How did the article go over?" he asked as Francine took a bite of the spaghetti and quickly chewed and swallowed to make room for another bite. It was easily the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.  

"The article went good. My boss still wants a few more things done with it but for a rough draft it was okay," she replied and then she pointed down at her plate with her fork, "This is delicious, Wyatt. You could be the next Emeril. Where did you learn to cook?"  

"I'm glad you like it but I don't know who or what an Emeril is," Wyatt replied as he watched her eat.  

She shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare and he quickly looked down at his hands. He had gotten so used to being able to stare all he wanted and not be seen that it would take a while to get used to the fact that Francine could see him when he looked at her. "I used to help my mama with the cooking back home in Kansas. I had four little sisters that were all a lot younger than me so I'd help mama to take some load off of her." 	

"Do you have any flaws?" Francine asked and then she  blushed at her own question and looked down at her plate.  

Wyatt longed to reach out and smooth those curly strands from her face. He wanted to run his scarred knuckle across her cheek. He wanted to wipe that bit of spaghetti sauce from her lip with his thumb... or better yet, kiss it away with his lips. He suddenly felt a loneliness deeper than any he had ever felt before.  

"Yes," he replied to her question, "I'm dead."  

Francine looked up just in time to see Wyatt disappear, "Wyatt?" she called out but she got no response. Where did he go and why did he leave? "Wyatt?" she called out again. 
She heard a loud thud in the empty apartment next door, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. Francine jumped to her feet and ran barefoot out into the hallway. She went to the apartment door on the left of her apartment and tried to turn the knob but it was locked. She prayed none of her neighbors would come by and see her knocking on a door to an apartment that had been empty for years and then knocked several times.  

"Wyatt?" she whispered through the empty door. "If you're in there please let me in." 	

She waited several long moments and then finally the lock on the door clicked and the door opened. Wyatt was standing there. His hat was gone, his hair was disheveled. The sling that held his musket on his back was off and his jacket was unbuttoned to reveal the thin white cotton shirt that he wore beneath it. The shirt was unbuttoned to just above his stomach revealing the tan skin and hard lines of his chest. She tore her eyes away from that sight and looked up at his face and what she saw made her heart ache. He looked so sad. More sad than when she was ten and had seen him in Vicksburg. His green eyes were red rimmed and his cheeks looked hollow and covered in shadows. His broad shoulders were slumped.  

"What is it Franny?" he asked, his voice flat.   

"What was that crashing sound?"   

"Nothing," he replied. 	

She took a step forward and he jumped back quickly to avoid contact. Francine made her way into the empty apartment and saw instantly what the crashing had been. The lamp had been thrown against the wall and shattered.  

"Why did you break the lamp?" she asked gently.  

"It didn't go with the rest of the furniture," he replied as he began to button up his shirt.  

"I found your flaw," Francine noted dryly.  

"Other than the fact that I'm a one hundred and seventy-three year old ghost?" he asked dryly and Francine chose to ignore that comment.  

"You have a temper."  

"Hundreds of years of pent up aggression will do that to a person."

"Are you going to be in a bad mood the rest of the night?" Francine asked impatiently. She had no idea what had put him in this mood but she didn't like it.  

"Probably," he replied as he flopped down on the couch.  

"Fine, be that way," she snapped and she walked out of the apartment and slammed the door behind her.  

Wyatt thought about leaving right then. He thought about going back to Vicksburg where no one could see him. Surely that would be easier than this. He was falling for Francine. Falling hard. But it could never be. He couldn't even touch the woman. The worst kind of lonely was wanting a person with everything you had yet being unable to have them.  

He should leave. He stood up and finished buttoning his shirt and jacket. He was about to grab his hat when he heard the ringing of a telephone in Francine's apartment. He put his ear to the wall and listened.  

"Hello?.... Hi Gregory!.... Actually I've..... Can we go...... How about...." Francine seemed to be unable to finish a single sentence before Gregory was interrupting her. "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow night. I love...." He heard her sigh sadly and set the phone back on the base. Didn't the stupid man she was with even tell her that he loved her?   

Wyatt decided right then that he couldn't leave yet. He had to stay long enough to get Francine away from Gregory. She deserved better than him. It had sounded like Gregory was coming tomorrow. Wyatt smiled. He'd be ready for the idiot and by the time Wyatt was done with him, Gregory would be scared to death and running away as fast as his legs could carry him.  

---

Janice zipped up the back of Francine's black dress and then flopped back down on Francine's queen sized bed, "So the darling Gregory has finally decided to grace you with his presence?"  

 Francine rolled her eyes as she ran her hands over her straightened hair. Gregory hated the natural tight curls of her hair and wanted her to keep it straightened around him, "He's finally back from his business trip," she replied. "He called me last night. He'll be here in a few minutes."  

"Have you seen Casper today?" Janice asked, knowing that trying to talk sense to her best friend about Gregory would be a waste of time. For some reason independent, self assured Francine, turned into a mindless robot who obeyed every command as far as Gregory was concerned. It drove Janice crazy.  

"No," Francine replied with a frown. "I heard him over in his apartment a couple of times this morning when I was getting ready for work and there was a cup of coffee waiting by my bed when I woke up but he's been avoiding me."  

"Lovers spat?" Janice asked with a grin.  

Francine laughed, "Don't be ridiculous."  

Just then a knock on the door sounded and Francine gave Janice a panicked look, "Go let Gregory in please and tell him I'm coming. I have to finish my make-up."  

"Why?" Janice asked. "You look beautiful already. Like a runway model."  

Francine looked at her long slender frame in the mirror. She was tall and slim with almost no curves, "He likes it when I wear make-up."  

"If he said he liked bald women would you shave your head?" Janice asked sarcastically as she walked to the bedroom door.  

"Don't be a bitch," Francine scolded. "Go open the door."  

"Yes mom."  

Janice walked out to the door and curled her nose when she opened it and saw Gregory standing there. Neither of them could see Wyatt who was standing in the corner of the living room.  

Wyatt wasn't impressed by Gregory. The man was in a charcoal gray suit that probably cost more than Wyatt's father had earned in his entire lifetime as a farmer. His hair was a light pale blond and slicked back on his head. He definitely had the look of money about him and he had the air of a man who knew that the world loved him because of that fact.  

A sneer appeared on Gregory's soft, well groomed face as he looked Janice up and down, "Still can't afford clothes that fit?"  

Janice shrugged as she looked down at her tight black t-shirt that stopped just below her breasts and showed her tight tan stomach, and her short flannel shorts, "Still buying suits that cost enough to feed an entire third world country?" she shot back.  

"Where is Francine?" he asked. His voice was smooth and cultured and Wyatt hated him even more for that.  

"Getting ready because you don't like her the way she is," Janice replied dryly.  

Gregory rolled his eyes and pushed past her. He curled his nose and wiped off the couch cushion before sitting down. Wyatt walked over to the couch and then continued and walked right through Gregory. He hated that feeling but it was worth it to see the rich man shiver and wrap his jacket tighter around himself.  

"It's cold in here," he complained.  

"It feels fine to me," Janice replied with a shrug. Wyatt heard Francine coming and he quickly hid behind the kitchen wall.  

"Francine you look lovely!" Gregory said as he stood from the couch. Wyatt peeked around the wall and frowned. Where were her curls? Where were her freckles? Why did she have such dark lines around her beautiful brown eyes? The dress was pretty enough and showed off her long delicate body. It was halter topped and showed off the slender lines of her shoulders. The bottom of the dress stopped just below her knees and Wyatt enjoyed the sight of her bare legs. He just wish she hadn't changed the rest of herself.  

"Thank you Gregory. You look very handsome," Francine replied and Wyatt couldn't help but notice that even her voice sounded different.  

He grabbed the piece of paper and pen from the kitchen table and scratched out a note for Janice. He knew she'd be coming into the kitchen just as soon as the microwave dinged.  

Seconds later the microwave did just that and Wyatt held the paper up when she came into the room. She let out a little yelp and then rolled her eyes, "You have to quit scaring me, Casper," she whispered. She took the paper and read it,  

Why dos she look an sound difrent? 


"Because that's the way Sir Gregory prefers her and for some reason Francine listens to him."  

I don’t like him.

"Me neither," Janice agreed as she opened the microwave and pulled out her dinner.  

I am going to get rid of him.

Janice smiled, "Please do."

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

“How did your trip go?” Francine asked Gregory once they were seated in the fancy French restaurant that he loved. Francine would rather go to the diner in her jeans and t-shirt but she rarely got to spend time with Gregory so she went where he chose.

"It was very productive," he replied as he scanned the menu. "I have to be leaving again Monday."  

"Again? But you just got back," Francine complained.  

Gregory threw her a look that clearly said he didn't appreciate her whining as the waiter approached the table, "Sir. Ma'am. What can I get you both?" he asked.  

Francine was about to respond when Gregory interrupted her and ordered for both of them. As the waiter walked away Francine frowned, "I would have rather had something else."  

"Nonsense. You can have a salad. You know if you eat something heavier than that this close to bed you'll be sleepy by the time we leave and I have plans for you."  

Francine nearly screamed when she heard Wyatt's deep, soothing voice in her ear, "What kind of plans exactly?"  

Gregory noticed her tensing and frowned, "Are you okay darling?" he asked.  

She nodded, "Of course I am. Can you excuse me for a moment?" Gregory tipped his head and stood as she left the table.  

Francine looked beside her to see that Wyatt was following her just as she had hoped he would. She walked into the back hallway where the restrooms were located and whirled around to face him, "What are you doing here?' she hissed.  

"I like French food," he replied with a shrug.  

"You don't eat," Francine reminded him.  

"What are you doing here with this man?" Wyatt asked.  

"He's my boyfriend. He has been for a year."  

"I think he has some improper plans for you tonight," he warned.

"What are you talking about?" Francine demanded.  

Wyatt frowned, "Are you really that naïve? The man plans on bedding you."  

Francine's eyes widened and then she gave a harsh laugh, "Yes and I plan on bedding him too so if you'll please excuse me...."  

"Why?" Wyatt interrupted. "Why are you with him? He doesn't want you."  

"Aren't you a walking contradiction." Francine hissed. "One second he wants to bed me and the next he doesn't want me?" She had no idea what the ghost was doing here acting like a jealous boyfriend but it was annoying her. Okay, so mostly it confused her and toyed with her already warring emotions about the man. He was everything she could possibly ever want in a man other than the fact that they could never kiss, never touch, never have a family, never have a conversation out in public without her looking like a crazy person. She was trying to fight her growing attraction to the man but he wasn't making that easy by following her around on her date.  

"He wants this," Wyatt said motioning up and down her body with his hand. "This isn't you."  

"Yes it is," Francine said as she smoothed out her dress. "Why do you care anyway? Don't you have anything better to do than follow me around and worry about my love life?"  

Wyatt shook his head, "No." This earned him a glare and he fought back a smile at the fiery spark he saw in her brown eyes, "This isn't you. What did you to your hair? Where did your curls go?"  

"Gregory prefers it straight and since I don't get to see him very often I don't mind straightening it for him."  

"Where are your freckles? Why do you have so much paint on your face?" Wyatt asked.  

"It's called make-up and all women wear it nowadays."  

"You don't normally wear so much of it. If Gregory cares about you then shouldn't he want to be with you just the way you are? Shouldn't he care about your job and want to show you off to his family?"

"You sound like Janice!" Francine exclaimed. "Wait a second... how did you know any of those things?"  

"Janice and I figured out a way to talk. Well I write and she talks."  

"Great so my best friend and my ghost have been talking about me when I'm not around?"  

"She cares about you. She doesn't want you being with this man." 	Francine bristled. The things he was saying were hitting too close to home and they were more true than she cared to admit. Her relationship with Gregory had not always been like this but if she was being honest it had been like this for much longer than it had ever been good.  

"Well it's not up to her or to you for that matter. This is none of your business, Wyatt, and you had no right to follow me here! Go back to Vicksburg where you belong!" Francine turned on her heel and strode away back into the dining area.  

Wyatt stood there watching her, barely noticing as the bathroom door opened and closed and people passed through him and complained about the cold. 	

If he thought she really meant that she wanted him to leave he would leave but she didn't mean that. She was just mad because he had pointed out some things that she wanted to ignore. Well he wasn't going to let her ignore them and that was the one good thing about being a ghost. If he wanted to stalk her and keep her safe from this 

Gregory then there really wasn’t anything that she could do about it.

---

Dinner went by quickly and Francine was happy to see that Wyatt seemed to have decided to leave. She hoped he hadn’t really gone back to Vicksburg but then she reminded herself that that would probably be for the best if he had.

"I trust you're wanting to come back to my place for a nightcap?" Gregory asked as they walked out of the restaurant.  

Francine nodded, "Yes, that would be nice." she said, though she couldn't help but wonder where Wyatt had gone. Had she hurt his feelings? She really hoped not. She didn't like to think that he was sad somewhere because of what she had said.  

"You seem distracted this evening, Francine. Is something wrong?" Gregory asked as they walked down the road. Gregory's apartment was not far from the restaurant so they were making their way on foot since the weather was so nice.  

"No nothing's wrong," she promised. "I have had a couple of rough days at work is all."

 Gregory squeezed her hand and nudged her with his shoulder, "You can't tell me that those little stories you write for a living are taking a toll on you." His tone was teasing but his words hurt because she knew that's how he really felt.  

Gregory saw her job as a joke. He thought of her gift as something she had just made up and she knew he would really never believe that she had a civil war ghost living next door to her. Or that said ghost was cooking her meals, bringing her coffee and trying to look out for her in a way that was both completely endearing and highly annoying at the same time.  

"My boss said there are going to be some major cutbacks soon and my job is one of the ones that might be cut," she replied.  

Gregory shrugged, "Good, maybe then you'll come to your senses and come take the job at my father's law office that I've been trying to get you to take for the last year. The pay is much better and it is actually a respectable article you'd be writing."  

"I like my job," Francine reminded him.

Gregory laughed lightly and kissed her temple, "Of course you do, my dear. Who wouldn't like making up ghost stories for a living?"

 Francine knew there was no point in arguing with him. They would never see eye to eye on the paranormal, "It's a beautiful night," she sighed as she laid her head on his shoulder.  

"Yes it is...." Gregory's cell phone rang and interrupted whatever he was going to say.  

He pulled away from Francine and took his phone from his pocket. He slid it open and put it to his ear, "Hello..... Uh.. I'm busy right now.... Can I call you later?"

 Francine rolled her eyes and looked around the busy city streets. Her eyes narrowed and she stared hard across the street at a dark alley. She could have sworn she'd seen a flash of blue wool just like a certain pain in the rumps jacket, but now it seemed like nothing was there. She supposed she may have just been imagining things because she was worried about Wyatt. She turned her attention back to Gregory on the phone.  "I'll call you later I promise.... Yes... Okay.... Me too."  

"Is everything okay?" Francine asked as he slid his phone back into his pocket.  

"Yes of course." He replied with a quick, toothy smile. He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her up the staircase of his apartment building. The doorman was quick to open the door and allow them to walk in. "It was just business, darling."  

"Business must really be booming right now," Francine noted dryly. 	Gregory led her into the elevator and shook his head, "Actually, it's not and that is why I am having to work so hard. Perhaps you could keep that in mind before you whine that I am not spending enough time with you. I am giving you all of the extra time that I have."  

Francine bit her lip and looked down at her feet. She pushed her hair behind her ears, irritated when it moved across her face. Her curls didn't do that.  

She was silent as the elevator moved up to the third floor and they made their way out. It wasn't until they were inside Gregory's apartment that Francine addressed what was said in the elevator, "It just seems to me that lately I am falling farther and farther down on your priority list, Gregory. Call me crazy but every now and then a woman wants to feel like she's right up there around the top. You know I never complain about you working so much but sometimes it does bother me."  

Gregory sighed and slipped off his suit jacket. He laid it over the dining room chair and led Francine into the living room, "I'm sorry, darling. What can I do to make it up to you?" he asked as he motioned for her to sit and then sat beside her.  

"Perhaps we could spend the day together tomorrow. Not just dinner and the night but the day. I'd like to go....."  

"I have a video conference tomorrow morning, a lunch date with a potential client of my fathers around noon and dinner with my family tomorrow night."  

"I would love to come to dinner with your family," Francine said quickly. She was tired of the way Gregory was treating her the last few months. Janice had been telling her that he was no good for her but she had chosen to ignore her best friend. Why then was she so bothered by Wyatt's words? Why had the words hit closer to home when he had spoken them?

"I won't put you through that, Francine," Gregory said as he nuzzled his lips against her neck. Instead of feeling heat or passion at his advance, Francine just felt annoyed. "My family is much too dry and stuffy for you."  

"Isn't that up to me to decide?" she asked.  

Gregory pulled away and looked at her with irritation in his blue eyes, "Are you wanting to fight tonight? Because I have plenty of business associates I could call if I wanted to fight."

 Francine stood up and glared down at him, "I don't want to fight, I just want to feel like your girlfriend instead of like your booty call that you make time for once a month!" she exclaimed.  

Gregory looked angry at first and then he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for several seconds. Francine was reminded of a parent closing his eyes and counting to ten before dealing with an annoying child and this just made her temper rise.  

He stood up and put a gentle hand on each of her upper arms, "I love you, Francine. I am sorry that I've made you feel like you are not important to me. I am a very busy man with a lot of demands on my time but I should not have pushed you so far to the back of my priority list. Now sit back down and let me go get us a bottle of wine and we can start over."  

Francine felt a little of her anger disappear but a nagging voice in her mind told her that he was only telling her what she wanted to hear and that he hadn't said anything to make her think he was going to change. He had merely told her that she had a reason to be upset.  

He kissed her forehead and walked around the corner to the kitchen. Francine sat back down on the plush leather couch with a huff. She put her elbows on her knees and her hands under her chin as she sat and stared at Gregory's stark apartment.  

"You deserve better than him."  

Francine gasped and turned to see Wyatt standing behind the couch with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He wasn't wearing his hat, it was clutched in his fist and his dark hair was a mess and falling carelessly across his forehead, which only added to his rugged appeal.  

"What are you doing here? I thought I told you to leave me alone?" Francine hissed.  

Wyatt shook his head, "If I thought that's what you really wanted, Franny, I would leave you alone, but I saw the smile on your face when you heard my voice just now. That tells me you don't want to be here alone with Gregory."  

"I didn't smile," Francine lied, working hard to keep her face as serious as possible. Her relief at seeing Wyatt had overwhelmed her when she had heard his voice. She had been so worried about him!  "And you seem to assume a lot. Have you ever heard what happens when you assume?"  

"Yeah you make an ass out of a couple of people," Wyatt replied with a grin. "But you have to realize that this bastard is just using you. He doesn't love you. A man who loved you would never make you feel like you were second to anything. And if, God forbid, he did get caught up in life and place you a little lower, he would get on his knees and beg your forgiveness as soon as you told him he'd hurt you."  

Francine felt her heart flutter in her chest and a strange ache filled her. She wanted what Wyatt was talking about. The only problem was that she found herself wanting it with Wyatt. Did that make her crazy? "Why do you have to say things like that?" she demanded.  

"Like what?" he asked with a tilt of his head.  

"Perfect things that make me want more then what I have," she replied.  

"Because you deserve more than what you have," he replied as if everything were just that simple.  

Francine shook her head and took a deep breath, "Deep down Gregory cares about me. It used to be really good between us back in the beginning."  

"It's not good now."  

"Wyatt please, I can't just up and leave him. I've got a year invested in this relationship."  

"Fine," Wyatt replied and then he walked through the wall and out of her sight, leaving her to wonder where he had gone.  

Wyatt walked into the kitchen and found Gregory leaned against the counter talking on his cell phone, "I love you too, Felicia. I know you miss me love. I'll be back on Monday." Wyatt froze and his eyes widened. "I'm not doing anything tonight, just sitting at the hotel. I just got done with a business meeting. I'm going to have to get to bed soon because I have another meeting in the morning."  

Wyatt felt pure anger fill him. There was no way that this unfaithful son of a bitch was laying a single hand on Francine while he was around. He picked up the bottle of wine that Gregory had placed on the counter and dropped it on the ground.  

Gregory turned quickly and frowned, "I have to go. I love you," he said into the phone and then quickly hung up.  

"Is everything okay in there?" Francine called from the couch.  

"Yes dear. I dropped the wine bottle is all," Gregory replied as he scratched his head and wondered how in the world the wine had fallen off the counter on its own.  

"Do you need my help?"

"No. No, just relax. I'll sweep up this glass and be in in a moment." Wyatt stood where he was and let Gregory walk through him as he made his way to the small closet beside the kitchen door. Gregory shivered and looked around the small kitchen as he felt a chill run down his spine.  

"Easy man, you can't start believing in ghosts and being as crazy as the company you keep."

 Wyatt was sure the look on his face was murderous as Gregory walked back across the kitchen and began to sweep up the glass. While Gregory bent to sweep it onto the dust pan, Wyatt reached out and shoved the two wine glasses off the counter as well and they crashed onto the floor.  

"What the hell?" Gregory gasped as he jumped back. Wyatt chuckled quietly at the wide eyed look on his face as he glanced frantically all around the kitchen.  

"Are you sure you're okay in there?" Francine called.  

"Yes," Gregory replied, though Wyatt was happy to here that his voice was shaking. Gregory quickly swept up the rest of the glass and tossed it in the garbage. When he turned back around Wyatt had already grabbed a dishtowel off the counter and tossed it down over the wet floor.  

Gregory looked around, "Is somebody in here with me?" he whispered.  

Wyatt walked over to the shiny black front of the microwave. He blew a breath of hot air on the surface and used his finger to slowly write yes in the fog from his breath.  

Wyatt was sure that Gregory was going to pass out as the man all but ran from the kitchen. Wyatt followed him and Francine jumped up when they came into the living room.  

"Gregory are you okay?!" she exclaimed when she saw the panicked look on his face.  

Gregory shook his head, "I changed my mind about staying here. Let's go out dancing or something," he said as he grabbed her by the arm. 	Francine saw Wyatt smiling and she frowned at him. What had he done? "You act like you're afraid," she said to Gregory.  

"Of course not, it's just that I dropped the wine and seem to be having a bit of a clumsy time in the kitchen, I'd prefer to go out."

"Of course," Francine said as she let Gregory lead her toward the door.   

Wyatt frowned. She'd be going out with Gregory over his dead body.. Okay so maybe that wasn't the best expression to use but Wyatt wasn't letting her go anywhere with this man who was trying to change everything about her and lying to her all the while.  

"Ask him who Felicia is, Franny." Wyatt said.  

Francine saw that his expression had changed. He now looked dead serious. No longer like a man who was simply having fun torturing someone who couldn't see him. And there was a sadness in his voice that made her wonder if she truly wanted to know what he was talking about.  

"Felicia?" she said questioningly as she looked at Wyatt.  

He nodded and she heard Gregory seem to get choked on air, "Excuse me?" he asked.  

Francine could hear his nervousness and when she looked at him he ran his hand through his hair and swallowed hard several times.  

"Who is Felicia?"  

"Who told you about Felicia?" Gregory demanded and then he shook his head. "I mean, who is Felicia?"  

Wyatt walked over to Gregory and reached in the mans pocket. He couldn't touch other living human but he could touch their clothes. He pulled out Gregory's cell phone and slid it open, the same way he had seen Gregory do earlier. He held the phone out to Francine while Gregory watched in a slack-jawed state of absolute horror and confusion.  

"He was talking to her in the kitchen, Franny. I'm sorry but he isn't being faithful to you."

 Francine felt a sense of betrayal fill her. She looked down at the phone and found his recent call list. Sure enough his last call had been moments ago in the kitchen to a Felicia West. There was even a small heart in the box next to her name.  

"When he's away on business he's with her. He said as much when he talked to her," Wyatt said sadly. He hated the hurt, betrayed look he saw on Francine's face. He hadn't wanted to cause her pain. He had simply wanted to get her away from Gregory. Exposing the man for the liar he was had seemed like the easiest way to do that.  

"You're cheating on me?" she asked Gregory as she threw his phone back at him.  

Gregory was still in too much shock to move so the phone bounced off his chest and fell to the dark cherry stained wood floor with a clatter, "How in the hell did my phone just float out of my pocket and into your hand?" Gregory demanded in a hushed whisper. "Who is here with us? Is there a ghost?"  

"Don't be ridiculous, 

darling ,“ she replied with a sneer. “There is no such thing as ghosts. Now tell me the truth, have you been cheating on me? Either way this relationship is over. I have a feeling that it’s been over for a while.”

"Honestly that's not important right now!" Gregory declared. "There is something in this house..."  

"Answer me Gregory!" Francine exclaimed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Your answer is 

very important to me.“

Gregory pulled on his shirt collar and looked at the wall behind her, avoiding her gaze, "Technically I have been cheating on her with you," he admitted. Most times he would have put up more of a fight and lied to save himself but right now he had bigger things to worry about, like the ghost that seemed to be on his girlfriends side.  

Francine felt her lip quiver as tears filled her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut several seconds to fight back those tears and when she opened them again she saw Wyatt standing closer to her than he ever had before.  

"I really am sorry, Franny." he said softly. Francine just wanted to be out of this place.  

"Goodbye Gregory," she whispered.   

He gave her a half smile, "You know I really do care about you. More than I cared about any of the others."  

Francine snorted with derision and fought the urge to punch him right in his pompous face. She turned to Wyatt, she didn't care if Gregory thought she was crazy, "Walk me home." she  

 Wyatt nodded and opened the apartment door. This was the last bit that Gregory's mind could stand. He turned snow white and then collapsed in an unconscious heap on the floor.

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

"Francine I..."  

"Don't talk to me," Francine snapped as they walked down the quiet street. "We have a very long walk and I am very very angry at you and I would rather not be walking down the streets screaming at someone that everyone else can't see."  

"Why are you angry at me?" Wyatt demanded. "All I did was...."  

"All you did was follow me around all night, criticize my choice in boyfriends and then throw it in my face that you and Janice have been right and I have been wrong and that Gregory is a loser! To top it off he's been cheating on me. No, that's not right he's been cheating with me." She paled. "Oh my God, I'm the 

other woman .“

"I didn't rub anything in your face, Franny. I know that wasn't the best way to let you know he wasn't being faithful but I didn't want you going out with him and having him take advantage of you anymore."  

"And the kitchen? What happened in the kitchen?"  

"I was just having a bit of fun," he replied with a shrug. "I didn't hurt him," he added as if that fact should clear him of any fault.  

"I feel like such a fool," Francine admitted with a sigh. "I guess I knew that something wasn't right long before today."  

"Then why did you stay?"  

"It was comfortable. I still had my freedom and independence but had a boyfriend at the same time. And like I said, he wasn't always that distant and rude to me. In the beginning he was perfectly charming."  

"Never trust a man who is perfectly charming."  

"Why?" Francine asked with a raise of her brow.  

Wyatt shrugged, "Because a regular man is going to fumble over words now and then, say things he shouldn't and get a little nervous around you as he hopes he says the right things. If a man doesn't do any of those things then you probably aren't the first woman he's wooed."  

"You say some of the funniest things," Francine said with a smile. How did this man manage to do this to her? One minute she was heartbroken, the next she was angry and now she was smiling and hanging on his every word just waiting to see what he would say next.  

"Like what?" he asked, feeling prouder than a rooster strutting in a henhouse knowing that he had made her smile.  

"Like that Gregory wanted to 

bed

me. Or that men woo women… No man woos a woman anymore.“

"Well they should," Wyatt replied with a grin that melted Francine's heart.

She quickly looked away from him. This was crazy. She was not falling in love with a ghost. Why did she always seem to fall for men that were completely unavailable? There had been several before Gregory and now there was the ultimate unavailable man. A civil war ghost whose touch she would never be able to feel no matter how sweet and caring he was.  

"I should warn you that I have a history of falling for losers," she said softly.  

Wyatt longed to reach out and wrap his arm around her sagging shoulders, pull her body tight against him and heal the hurt that Gregory had caused. He wanted to protect her from ever being hurt again. God knew he would never hurt her even if he could.  

"Let me pick the next one," he offered.   

She laughed, "Did you have someone in mind?"  

Wyatt wanted to say yes but that wouldn't be fair to her. How did you ask a woman to love you when you couldn't give her a real relationship, "Not yet. Give me some time. I've only been back among the living for a couple of days."

 Francine smiled but inside her heart was a wreck. Gregory had been cheating but it wasn't the loss of him that had her heart so beat up.   She had known for a long time that that was coming and just hadn't wanted to admit it. No, what had her heart hurting was the fact that she wanted something she could never have. She wanted Wyatt.  

They walked a long time in silence. Both lost too deeply in their own thoughts to attempt conversations. They were only a few blocks from Francine's apartment when the rain began to fall.

 Francine was about to run but Wyatt stopped her, "Here, Franny, I don't want you getting all wet." he said. He pulled off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

 Francine frowned at him and he shrugged, "I don't get wet," he promised.  

Francine didn't argue, she held the wool jacket over her head and took off at a run toward the apartment with Wyatt right behind her. She was laughing as she unlocked the door and ran inside. Janice jumped from the couch with a small cry of shock.  

"You scared the hell out of me!" she exclaimed and then she frowned as Francine seemed to be tossing something that Janice couldn't see behind her. Janice could hear the rain pouring outside but Francine looked almost completely dry, "Why aren't you wet?"  

"Because Wyatt gave me his jacket."  

"Why is Casper with you and why aren't you busy with Sir Gregory?" Janice hoped that maybe Wyatt had been able to make Francine see that jackass for what he truly was.  

Francine's smile faded and she made her way across the living room and flopped down on the couch, "Gregory and I are over. He was cheating on me... Or with me I guess is more like it."  

"I'm sorry, Francine. I guess this calls for an ice cream eating, nail painting, movie watching night?"  

Francine smiled and laid her head on her best friends shoulder, "Sounds good to me," she replied. "But first I'm going to go take a shower and change into something more comfortable."   

"I'll find us a good movie on pay per view. Something that shows all men for what they really are. Condescending, pig headed idiots who never use the head above their naval."

 Wyatt frowned when Francine laughed and walked off to the bathroom. He hadn't found Janice's statement to be funny at all.

 He grabbed the pad of paper and pen off the table and Janice smiled because she knew he was getting ready to scold her and she was finding that she liked this Wyatt a lot. Too bad he wasn't a living, breathing man because he seemed like the perfect one for Francine.  

I wud say thank you for making Franny smile but that wud make me use the hed above my navel.

Janice laughed out loud and Wyatt found himself laughing as well, "Well I will tell you thank you for getting Francine away from Gregory. It's about time she left his ass."  


She is a smart woman. She wud have figurd him out befor much longer.

“Now you have to go, Casper. This is going to be a girls night which means no nineteenth century civil war ghosts allowed.”

Wat if want to stay? How are you gunna make me leave? 


Janice smiled and crossed her arms over her chest, "Have you ever heard of the Ghostbusters, Casper?"  

---

Francine looked all around for Wyatt when she walked out of the bathroom a half hour later but he was nowhere to be seen. She sat down on the couch beside Janice and ran her hand through her wet, curl filled hair.

"Wyatt?" Francine called out.  

Janice shook her head as she popped open a tub of ice cream and handed Francine a spoon, "He's gone."  

"How do you know? Oh let me guess you've been writing notes back and forth again."  

Janice grinned sheepishly and stuck a big bite of cookies and cream ice-cream into her mouth, "He told you about that, huh?"

 Francine nodded and Janice pointed to the paper and pen on the table. Francine picked it up and read over it, "He thinks I'm a smart woman?" Francine asked, she was talking to herself but Janice nodded anyway.  

"Yes he does," she replied. "And you are."  

Francine was used to Janice saying that but to hear that Wyatt thought she was smart filled her with pride. Most people did not think Francine was smart. Her love of history and the paranormal often had people believing that she was a little on the crazy side.  

"So how did you get him to leave?" Francine asked as she tossed the paper back down on the table and got a spoonful of ice-cream.  

"I told him the Ghostbusters would come and suck him up into a tiny machine with no room to move and he'd be stuck there forever."  

Francine's eyes widened and then she burst out laughing, "And he believed you?" she gasped.  

Janice shook her head and licked her spoon, "I don't know if he did or not but he left either way," she replied. "Now tell me what happened with Gregory."  

Francine launched into the story and told Janice every gory detail from the night. By the time she was done the half gallon tub of ice cream was nearly gone.  

"Thank God that Wyatt was there to help you out," Janice said with relief.  

Francine nodded as an image of Wyatt's warm smile filled her mind, "Yes," she whispered softly.  

Janice frowned. She knew her friend and she could tell that Francine was falling for Wyatt. Janice didn't want to see her friend hurt anymore and surely all that could come from a 'relationship' with a ghost was hurt. After all they could never have a real relationship when no one else could see him and they could never touch. She didn't mention any of this though. She would let Francine have her dreams for the night.  

"Let's get to that movie," Janice said as she stretched out on the couch and turned the television volume up.  

---

Wyatt didn’t want to sleep. Nor did he want to sit alone in his empty apartment. He made his way out into the rain filled night. He wasn’t sure where he planned on going. He saw a man and woman huddling together under a doorway to stay out of the rain. They were holding each other close and kissing. His hands were roaming over her back and she laughed breathlessly when he moved his lips from hers and whispered something in her ear.

Wyatt felt bitterness and jealousy fill him. If he couldn't be happy then he didn't want anyone else being happy. Childish? Yes, but he didn't care. He kicked his foot in a puddle of water and sent a wave of it through the air, soaking the man and woman who both let out startled gasps and looked around for where the water could have come from.  

Satisfied that he had interrupted their loving moment, Wyatt moved on down the road. He walked for a long time with no particular destination in mind. Several times he crossed the street, not giving a care to oncoming traffic which just passed right through him anyway.   

By the time he paid attention to where he was he was in a very run down part of town. Most of the buildings were empty and the windows boarded. He could hear the sounds of yelling and fighting coming from the apartments across the street. He was about to leave this part of town and head back to Francine's apartment building when a shop caught his eye.  

This one wasn't boarded like the rest and there were lights coming from within. He walked down to the shop and his eyes widened when he saw the displays in the window. Cloves of garlic, various dream catchers and things that Wyatt had no clue what they were but resembled witchcraft and voodoo items. There were even things that looked like shrunken heads. Wyatt's curiosity got the better of him. He'd never seen anything like these things. He walked through the window, careful to avoid touching any items because, quite frankly, they gave him the chills.  

He looked around the crowded room. Strong scents filled the air and nearly made him gag. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw a heavyset, pale skinned woman sitting beside a fire. She had a cup in her hands and was shaking it causing a rattling noise to fill the air. The woman had red hair that was streaked heavily with gray and pulled back in a tight bun. Her face was deeply lined with wrinkles, her nose was large and her lips were pursed tightly with very red lipstick and a darker shade outlining their shape. Her dress looked to be made of brown velvet and it was large and billowy and took up most of the small couch she was sitting upon.  

"It's not polite to stare, young man. Did your mother teach you nothing?" the woman asked with a thick Russian accent.  Wyatt looked behind him to see who she was talking to. "I'm talking to you, you foolish boy. Why do you not come and sit down?"  

"Me, ma'am?" Wyatt asked. "You can see me?"  

"Well of course I can see you. You are standing inside my store, are you not? Come and sit," she ordered again.  

Wyatt found his legs moving across the store even though he couldn't remember telling them to do so. He sat down in the small chair beside the couch and watched the woman dump the contents of the cup on the table in front of her. Wyatt's eyes widened. Were those finger bones?  

"What brings you to my store, Wyatt?" she asked as she stared down at the bones.  

Wyatt's eyes narrowed as he looked at her, "How do you know my name?"   

She smiled and he realized that her teeth were rotted and many were missing, "We have met before. Though I am not surprised that you do not remember. It was the summer of 1863 and you were dying with a bullet lodged deep inside your heart."  

Wyatt laid his hand over the side of his chest where the bullet had entered and frowned at her, "You look old, ma'am, but not that old." He was convinced that she must be a little off her rocker if she expected him to believe what she was saying.  

"Old? No, I am not old. I am ageless. I have been around since the beginning of time."  

"I guess I shouldn't assume that you're lying since I am a one hundred and seventy-three year old ghost."  

"You are no ghost," she snapped quickly as she put the bones back into the cup.  

Wyatt sat back in the chair and decided to hear her through even though he thought she was a few eggs short of a dozen, "Then what am I?"  

"A spirit," she replied with a shrug as her yellow eyes met his.

 Wyatt had never seen eyes that color before. What in the world was she? "Spirit, ghost, they're the same thing." he muttered.

 She reached out and tried to  slap his knee but Wyatt jumped to his feet and moved away from her and against the fireplace. The flames shot through his body but he could not feel their heat. The woman had tried to touch him.  Clearly she was crazier than he thought.  

She laughed and it was a rough sound as she clutched at her ample chest and leaned her back against the couch, "There is no such thing as ghosts," she informed him. "Spirits linger when they have unfinished business."  

Wyatt still didn't move from where he stood but he did meet her gaze again, "So I have unfinished business?" he asked cautiously.  

"Yes. You were killed before you were supposed to be killed so I intervened to give you the chance to finish your business later."  

"Finish it how? No one can see me! No one can touch me! What kind of business am I supposed to be figuring out?!"  

"That is for you to figure out, Wyatt, not for me to tell you," she replied simply. "All I will tell you is that you died before you met who you were supposed to meet."  

"Well whoever that was is long dead by now."  

"This person is different. Many different lives they have led in many different times. Yes. Yes. This person does not remember these lives, only the one they are now leading and they are the one you were meant to meet. The one you were meant to..... Well no I will not tell you the rest. You will know too much if I do. This is for you to figure out."  

"Can't you at least tell me who this person is?"  

"They are like me. Gifted."

 Wyatt's mind instantly went to Francine. She could hear him. She could see him. His eyes widened and she nodded, "I think you are figuring it out."  

Wyatt frowned, "This makes no sense. Even if I find this 

person , you still haven’t said if it’s a man or a woman or what roll they would have played in my life. How am I supposed to accomplish my business if I don’t know what it was?“

"That is for you to figure out, not Madam Zinga." She poured out the bones again and looked them over. "You need to go now. I have told you all I will tell you."  

"Thanks for nothing, Madam Zinga," Wyatt growled as he moved away from the fire and toward the door.  

"You should have a little faith in Madam Zinga," she called out as she sent him a gaze that seemed to see deep inside of him.  

"I have nothing but contempt for you, ma'am," he replied with a sad shrug. "You should have let me die. This life I lead is a fate worse than death. Unseen. Unfelt. Unheard. I would rather be dead."

 Madam Zinga shook her head, causing her multiple chins to jiggle and then she gave him a smile, "It is for you to figure out," she repeated. 	Wyatt blew out a long impatient breath and left the shop. This woman was nuts. The idea that people died and came back in another time was insanity. Who was this person he was supposed to meet? Was it Francine? And if so then what the hell was he supposed to do now that he knew her. Loneliness filled him once again.  

The rain had stopped, the streets were silent and empty. Not that that made any difference to a man no one could see. Wyatt's mind was racing as he thought about what Madam Zinga had said, or hadn't said was more like it, and his own growing feelings for the woman he couldn't have.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Francine woke the next morning and rubbed her sleep filled eyes as she frowned and thought back on her dreams. She had always had strange dreams about the past. Dreams that truly made her feel as if she were living during a different time. Whether it was fifteenth century Scotland in a large stone castle, or eighteenth century England with dukes and earls, the dreams were often so detailed that they seemed real and she had had them all countless times.  

Dining with kings, dancing with earls; she had done it all in her dreams. But the dream she had just before she had awoken had been a new one and she blamed it on her recent interest in the Civil War.   

She had been walking through a field of corpses with other women carrying a bag full of her father's medical supplies. Her father was gone with the troops so she had taken over his duties.  

She was fairly certain it was Vicksburg, Mississippi that she had been in. The soldiers had been dressed in both blue and gray. The women did not care which color the men wore, they were simply trying to find anyone that was still clinging to life so that they could try to heal them. Hoping desperately to fix some of the damage that this war had caused. When men got in fights it was always the women that suffered.  

Hundreds of women walked across that death filled ground, their lanterns swinging in the fading light as they searched the lifeless faces for their loved ones and prayed they wouldn't find them. The scents that had filled the air had been overwhelming. Blood, death, infection, gunpowder and smoke all clogged out the oxygen and made it difficult to breath.  

Francine had broken away from the small group of women she'd been walking with. Her feet seemed to be drawn to a certain spot, to a certain set of bodies. She walked straight to a man lying on his stomach in blood covered blue wool and with shaking hands she flipped him over.  

That was when her dream had taken a very disturbing turn. She had recognized the man lying in the blood stained grass. His dark hair had been stiff and sticky with the red stuff that seemed to be everywhere. His face was pale and drawn. His eyes were closed but she knew if they were to open they would be a piercing green.  

Wyatt. It was Wyatt and it was clear that a bullet had torn through the side of his ribs and pierced his heart. She had walked away from him, certain that it was already too late to save him. She had walked away and suddenly she was watching Wyatt but it was as if now she was watching a movie instead of seeing it with her own eyes. As soon as she had walked away, Wyatt had taken a shallow, wet sounding breath....  

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

 Francine gave a startled jump and sat up quickly to see Wyatt standing in her bedroom door holding yet another Starbucks cup of coffee. "Oops, I guess you have," he added with a smile.  

Francine smiled back but it seemed that Wyatt could tell it was forced because he crossed the room quickly, sat the coffee on the bedside table and crouched in front of her with his arms draped across his knees.  

"Are you okay, Franny?" he asked gently.  

She nodded, "Of course. I think we've already covered the fact that I am not a morning person."  

Wyatt frowned. Something was wrong with her, "Bad dream?"

 She rolled her eyes and grabbed her coffee off the table, "It was nothing," she assured him. "I have odd dreams from time to time."  

She glanced over at the clock and realized it was nearly nine in the morning, "I'm going to be late!" she exclaimed as she jumped from the bed. 	Wyatt stood and quickly took several steps back to avoid contact even as his eyes took in the sight of her. She was wearing nothing but a thin black satiny nightgown. The straps were thin and the neckline was cut low and lined with black lace. The hemline stopped just below the curve of her backside and it was lined with black lace as well. Her body was long and willowy and Wyatt had never seen a vision more perfect than the one she presented.  

Her curls were wild, her face lined from being pressed against her pillow and her eyes puffy from tears she must have cried last night but she was still the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He felt desire fill him. He'd felt lust before but this was different. This went deeper than just mere lust. He felt his pants tighten and suddenly he knew the answer to that question Janice had asked of him in Vicksburg. Ghosts, or spirits, as he had recently learned he was, could definitely still get hard-ons. 	

Without another word he slipped from the room and made his way to the kitchen where he could pace off his intense and overwhelming desire. By the time Francine entered the kitchen ten minutes later wearing jeans and a midnight blue silk tank top that hugged her slender frame, he was feeling much more in control of himself.  

"What are you going to be late for?" he asked her as she slipped a pair of blue studs into her ears and then ran her hands over her curls.  

"I have a meeting at work."  

"On Saturday?" he asked.  

"Yes. The bigwigs are announcing their cuts today," she said and then began to chew nervously on her fingernails.  

Wyatt smiled and wished he could hug her to offer reassurance, "Everything will be fine," he promised her. "You are a very talented author."  

"How would you know?" she demanded, her nerves making her words more harsh than she had intended them to be. She frowned apologetically at him but he laughed.  

"I don't have much to keep me busy while you're working during the day and I don't have to sleep as much as you do so I had to find something to keep me busy. I've read everything you've ever had published."  

"Seriously?" Francine asked with shock. No other man she had ever had a relationship with had taken the time to read anything she had written. Then she mentally kicked herself. She was 

not in a relationship with Wyatt because if she were that would make her crazy. Wouldn’t it?

"Seriously," he replied with a wink and then he frowned,  "Are you too nervous to eat?"  

"Yes," she said as she let out a shaky breath and then took a sip of her coffee. She looked at the clock on the wall and her dark eyes widened, "I have to go now."   

"Good luck, Franny. I....." Wyatt stopped himself before the next words came out of his mouth. He had almost told the woman that he loved her. That would have been a major mistake. "I'll be here when you get back," he said instead.  

"Your pen pal is still asleep but she should be awake soon," Francine informed him with a smile.  

Wyatt frowned, "Pen pal?'  

"Your writing buddy Janice," Francine winked and Wyatt nodded. "Thanks for being there for me last night Wyatt. I guess I never did tell you thank you. You made me smile even though my heart should have been breaking."  

Wyatt blushed and cleared his throat as he looked down at his boots and shifted his feet, "I'll be here whenever you need me, Franny." He raised his head and looked into her eyes, "That's a promise."  

He wasn't sure if Francine was who Madam Zinga wanted him to meet, after all he wasn't completely certain that Madam Zinga wasn't just some addle brained old woman who liked to play with the minds of lonely spirits, but he did know that he had spent the last one hundred and forty-seven years alone and now he wasn't alone anymore. Lonely? Yes, because he couldn't have what he truly wanted with this smart, beautiful woman but he wasn't alone. 	

Wyatt's eyes filled with tenderness as he looked at her and suddenly to Francine the kitchen felt too small. Wyatt was so tall and broad and he seemed to take up every inch of extra space.  

"I have to go," she said quickly and she turned and left the room. She grabbed her leather satchel and walked out the door.

 It only took Wyatt two seconds to decide that he couldn't let her go on her own. She seemed so nervous and the good thing about being a spirit who could only be seen by two people (if you counted Madam Zinga as being a person), was that he could go there and support her and no one but her even had to know he was around.  

---

Francine and all the other journalists for the paper were sitting around the long table looking nervously around at each other and wondering who would be going home jobless when this meeting was over. The bigwigs of the company, two older men with gray hair, glasses and fancy suits, were huddled together at the far end of the table and keeping the nervous employees waiting impatiently.  

Francine's eyes widened and she nearly called out to him when she saw Wyatt slip into the room. He smiled and winked at her and then crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the far wall. He was so tall and masculine standing there in his uniform with his weapons and that self assured expression he wore so often, that it very nearly took her breath.  

"What are you staring at?" One of the many gossip columnists for the paper asked.  

Francine looked over at the bubbly blond and shook her head, "Nothing I was just off in a daze," she replied.  

Francine threw Wyatt one more glance but he was busy staring at the copy machine in the corner, (which was currently humming away and shooting out copies), as if it were a bomb or some other deadly weapon ready to blow.

 She fought back a smile which was easy because at that exact moment one of the big wigs Mr. Litkins cleared his throat, "I suppose you all know the meaning of our meeting here today." he said with his New York accent which was so out of place here in northern Kentucky. The group of nervous employees all nodded.  

"Economic times are hard and with so many people using digital methods to get information, our newspaper and journals have taken a direct hit," the other big wig, Mr. Fratton added. "We are being forced to make some cuts to the workforce and to the paper in an effort so save some money."  

"We should make it clear that this decision was a hard one and we did not make it lightly," Mr. Litkin continued. "We are cutting out several of the gossip columnists and a few of the articles that we ourselves do not feel are important or necessary for the success of our paper."  

"Here is a list of all names being cut. If you see your name on this paper, please go to your office once we adjourn this meeting, collect your belongings and vacate the premises. You will receive severance packages in the mail and letters of recommendation from our company to help you find employment elsewhere," Mr. Fratton informed them as he pulled a paper from his folder and handed it to Gracie Smith, a weathergirl who had been hired based on the length of her skirt instead of her skills as a meteorologist (which were nonexistent.)  She scanned it quickly and a relieved smile appeared on her face. Clearly her name had not been there.  

Francine watched as one by one her colleagues read the paper. Some were relieved and she watched others faces fall as they realized they no longer had a job. When Francine took the paper she saw that her name was the first on the list and tears filled her eyes.  

Wyatt was across the room in an instant and read the paper over her shoulder, "Ask them why," he said and Francine shook her head as she passed the paper down the table. "Yes. Ask them why. You deserve to know after you've been with them for all these years."  

Francine blew out a breath and raised her hand, "Yes?" Mr. Litkin asked.  

"Sir, I was wondering what your reasoning was behind your decisions? I have been here for a number of years and my article has always been quite popular."

 Mr. Litkin asked her name and she gave it and then he nodded, "Yes you write the paranormal dribble that I was against from the beginning, however, your boss Mr. Henderson was fond of you and of your article so we allowed it."  

"Dribble?" Francine repeated, feeling her temper rise.  

"Come now, it is garbage. There are no ghosts. The paranormal article was for entertainment purposes only and now that we have to make cut backs, it has to go."

"No ghosts, huh?" Wyatt asked and before Francine could tell him no he was walking through the table and stopped directly in front of the two bigwigs. He picked up the water glasses that had been sitting on the table in front of the men and held them up in the air. Everyone at the table gasped and sat there in shock as they watched the floating cups. Francine just watched with amusement and worry over what exactly Wyatt was going to do with that water. Mr. Litkin and Mr. Fratton both jumped to their feet and stared at the glasses.  

Wyatt grinned back at Francine and then he threw the water directly in their faces causing gasps and screams from everyone at the table who still seemed too afraid to jump up and try to leave.  Mr. Litkins and Mr. Fratton were too frightened and in too much shock to even attempt to wipe the water from their faces as they stared agape at the cups Wyatt had set back on the table.  

Wyatt reached out and took Mr. Litkin's pen from his suit pocket and then picked up a pad of paper and jotted down a message.  

Gosts are reel.

He held the notepad up in front of Mr. Litkin's nose and the man paled considerably and blinked several times. 	

"And they can't spell." Mr. Fratton added, hoping to laugh away the situation.  

Wyatt frowned and grabbed Mr. Fratton's file of neatly prepared papers. He was sick and tired of having his spelling criticized. He threw them with all his might into the air and the multicolored folders, papers and tabs rained down upon the table.  

Wyatt grabbed the paper with the names of all the laid off employees out of a mousy woman's hands and she nearly fainted right there in her chair. He scribbled on the paper with the pen beside Francine's name and then held it up for both men to see.  

She keeps her job. 


Both of the men shared a look and then looked over at Francine who was hiding her face, both because she was embarrassed to have all of this fuss made over her and because she was fighting back laughter at Wyatt's antics. He had told her over and over again that he liked torturing, teasing and playing pranks on people who couldn't see him and she was starting to see that he had been telling the truth.  

"Um, yes well... P..Perhaps the paranormal article in the p...p..paper is not as useless as we first assumed... Perhaps we could um..." Mr Fratton looked over at Mr. Litkin who licked his lips nervously and nodded vigorously, causing his comb over to bobble on his head.  

"Yes we will discuss it and get back with you by Monday," he agreed as he looked at Francine. Francine nodded even as she flamed red.  

"That will be all...This meeting is adjourned." Both men ran as quickly as they could from the room.   

---

"What in the world did you do that for?" Francine demanded of Wyatt once they were in her Chevy Cavalier and headed back toward the apartment.  

Wyatt was grateful that his legs could pass through the dashboard of the car or else he'd be awfully cramped. At nearly six and a half feet tall he was not made for riding in something so tiny.  

"Because you deserve to have that job and the only reason those pompous idiots fired you was because they didn't believe in ghosts or take what you wrote about seriously. I changed their way of thinking," he said with a wink.  

Francine stopped at a red light and looked over at him. "You are something else, Wyatt Montgomery," she beamed with a smile.  

"Why thank you, Franny."   

"So what do you want to do today?" she asked him.  

Wyatt was surprised by the question, "Huh?"  

"Janice wanted to go shopping today but I'm sure you won't want to do that."  

Wyatt tilted his head as he looked at her, "Shopping for what?" he asked.  

"Clothes."  

Wyatt grinned like a child opening his presents on Christmas morning, "Are you going to be trying these clothes on?" he asked.  

He had watched several television programs with Janice the other day and it showed that women nowadays put clothes on before they bought them to ensure that they fit well. Watching Francine dress and undress countless times sounded like fun to him, or maybe torture, but it was a torture he could definitely live with.  

Francine laughed as she started again down the road, "Yes and I might need my ghost to tell me whether or not things look okay. Janice usually gets too caught up in her own shopping to be much help."  

Wyatt chuckled lightly and wiggled his straight brows, causing Francine to blush and laugh at the same time, "In that case, let's go shopping."

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

“Shopping therapy, it does wonders for a woman!” Janice sighed as she tossed her bags in the back of the car.

Wyatt smiled. He'd just spent the last hour and a half watching Francine model for him and he would have to say that shopping therapy worked wonders for a man as well, or ghost..spirit..whatever the hell he was. He had definitely liked it and seeing her smiling, happy and seemingly carefree had been a plus as well.  

"I have to get home. I have a date tonight," Janice informed them, glancing at the time on her phone.  

"What is a date?" Wyatt asked as he stretched his arms over his head. Francine stared at him and then shook her head. He had on wool pants, wool jacket, she knew he wore a white button down long sleeve shirt beneath the jacket, thick socks, leather boots, a strap and musket over his back. He wore a revolver on his hip along with a long buck knife that looked suited for stabbing an elephant. There was a small pack that hung from a strap across his chest and a large canteen hung from the pack. There was also a sheath which she assumed held his bayonet that hung from his belt.  

"Aren't you hot, Wyatt?" she asked as she looked up at the blazing August sun.  

Wyatt shook his head, "Nope. I haven't felt things like hot and cold since the day I died," he replied with a shrug.

"Why do you still carry all of that stuff?" she asked as she indicated his weapons and bag.  

Wyatt looked down at them and his uniform and frowned, "I've tried to put on different outfits but I have to focus all day on making sure they don't just pass right through me and whenever I finally go to sleep and wake up my uniform and all my belongings are right back on me no matter where I left them. Eventually I just got tired of taking them off every day."  

"Earth to Francine and Casper...." Janice said with a grin as she slipped on her giant sunglasses and laid her arms on the hood of the car. "You do realize you look crazy when you stand there looking and talking to someone that no one else can see don't you?" Janice teased.  

Francine shrugged, "I don't care," she replied honestly.  

Janice laughed lightly, "She really doesn't care, Casper. That's the thing about Francine. She always just kind of does her own thing," she said. "Now me, I have to get home and get ready for my date."  

"What's a date?" Wyatt asked again.  

"It's when two people go out to spend time together," Francine replied.  

"Did he honestly just ask what a date was?" Janice demanded incredulously.  

Francine laughed out loud when Wyatt stuck his tongue out at Janice. He was a walking contradiction sometimes. He was strong, protective, temperamental and yet kind, caring, gentle and thoughtful and then at the same time he was clearly a jokester, a prankster and a child at heart.  

"He just stuck his tongue out at you," Francine informed her friend. 	Janice tossed her blond and pink hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, "Very mature, ghost boy." 	

"I guess I'll just go home for the night," Francine said as she dug into her purse for her keys.  

Wyatt frowned. She didn't act as if she wanted to go home and that whole date thing sounded interesting to him. It sounded like wooing which was what he was accustomed to. He'd had a few women that he had tried to woo before he'd died. There had even been one woman he'd thought about marrying but he'd been shot and killed in Vicksburg before he could get back to Kansas and ask her.  

He and Francine might never have a chance at a real relationship but he could teach her the way that a man should treat her and he could get to know more about her. After all he was fairly certain that Madam Zinga had been talking about Francine being his unfinished business the night before. Maybe he was supposed to find her a man who would treat her right. He felt a sting of jealousy but pushed it back. No point getting jealous and possessive over Francine when she didn't belong to him.  

"Franny, is there somewhere we could go where there's no sidewalks for a while?" Wyatt asked, shocked when he realized he sounded nervous.  

"Well, yes. There's a park just outside of town with a lake and hiking paths, Why?" Francine asked as she threw her bags into the car as well. Wyatt had offered to carry both of the ladies bags since he'd been raised a gentleman but Francine had reminded him that floating bags would cause a stir.  

"I'd just like to get away from all the buildings and people for a while," he replied with a shrug.  

Francine nodded, "Of course you would. You've spent the last... well a long time, living somewhere open and peaceful." Francine turned to Janice, "You go ahead and take the car home. Wyatt and I will walk to the park and then we'll walk home later."  

"Ooooh, going on a date with Casper," Janice teased as she grabbed the keys Francine tossed her way.  

Francine snorted and rolled her eyes even as her heart did a little flutter in her chest, "Stop being stupid," she warned.  

Janice just laughed and got in the car. She blew Francine a kiss out the passenger window as she fired the engine to life, "Have fun you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."  

As Janice drove away Wyatt came to stand beside Francine and she looked to see the confused frown on his face, "What's wrong?" she asked.  

"Are you certain she's not more than just a waitress?"

---

Francine and Wyatt didn't talk much as they made their way down the crowded city streets toward the park. Wyatt had told her that he didn't want people to stare at her and think that she was crazy if they saw her talking to herself. Francine didn't really care either way what other people thought but Wyatt had seemed to be stubborn in this so she had let it go.  

Francine noticed that Wyatt seemed to be working hard to keep himself from touching anyone on the sidewalks and to keep from passing through poles and other things they passed by. She wondered what it felt like to him when he passed through something.  

"Can I touch you, Wyatt?" she asked as they turned a corner and the park came into view.  

Wyatt looked at the large lake and the surrounding lush green hills and trees and would have smiled if not for the question she had just asked, "I'm a ghost, Franny, don't be forgetting that, and that means you can't touch me."  

"I'm not supposed to be able to see you either," she reminded him. "Or talk to you, and I could wear your jacket. Maybe I can touch you."  

Wyatt was silent for several long moments as he stared hard at her. She wondered what he was thinking and wished she could read his mind. She took his silence as permission and reached out a shaking hand only to have Wyatt's expression turn almost angry as he jumped out of her reach.  

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

 Francine felt tears fill her eyes at his sudden harshness and quickly turned away from him. Since when did she let people  hurt her like this? She was not the type to cry, she was the type to get angry and fire back, but Wyatt's harshness was more than she could take after becoming accustomed to his caring and supportive side.  

"Nothing," she said as she quickly began walking away from him and toward the edge of the lake. The park was mostly deserted today because not many people came here during the middle of hot summer days.  

"Franny, stop," Wyatt called but she quickened her pace. "Franny, please stop," he pleaded and she did but she didn't turn to look at him.  

"What do you want, Wyatt? You're allowed to thrust yourself into every single aspect of my life but yet I'm not allowed to do anything that might make you uncomfortable?"	

"Dammit, Francine, you don't have a single clue what the hell you're talking about!" Wyatt exclaimed as he pulled off his hat and shoved his hand through his hair.  

Once she overcame the shock from hearing him yell and cuss at her she realized that he looked to be in pain, "Are you hurt?" she asked as her anger faded away.  

Wyatt barked out a harsh laugh and stormed around her and to the edge of the lake, "I can't get hurt, Franny," he replied. "I don't feel anything and I haven't for a very long time. I am completely dead on the outside and I was on the inside for a long time until I found you and Janice in my barracks and you spoke to me.  You have given me something, Franny. Something that I never thought I would find. Being around you makes me feel like I'm alive and if you try to touch me and I feel you pass through me..." His voice trailed off and Francine crossed her arms over her chest and went to stand beside him.  

"I'm sorry Wyatt. I shouldn't have tried to do that without your permission," she said softly.

 Wyatt glanced down at her. She had changed out of her satin blue blouse and into a soft, black cotton t-shirt. Her curls were pulled back on her head and she wore no make-up so her freckles were very visible on her curved cheekbones.  

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he apologized gently.  

Francine shrugged as she looked at the peaceful water, "It's okay. We both have our flaws. I'm not a morning person and you have a temper."  

"Which I'll never lose like that with you again. I promise."  

Francine smiled and sat down in the soft grass beneath an oak tree. Wyatt wanted to sit beside her but he was finding that being close to her caused him to want things he couldn't have. It was easier to keep some physical distance between them.  

"I've told you all about my family, Franny. What about yours? Where did you grow up?" Wyatt asked as he moved closer to the lake's edge and began gathering small stones in his hand.  

"My mom and dad live in southeastern Kentucky, in a tiny little town that doesn't show up on most maps. They worked a lot when I was a child and I took care of myself."  

"I could have guessed that about you," Wyatt said as he began tossing the rocks out into the water. "You have that independent quality about you. I could see how surprised you were when I brought you coffee and cooked you breakfast, that told me you weren't used to people doing things for you."  

"Especially men," Francine replied as she laid down and stared up at the sky.

"I think we've already covered the fact that you pick losers," Wyatt reminded her teasingly and she couldn't help but laugh.  

"Yes well  you're supposed to be finding me one that's not a loser and instead you're throwing rocks in the lake."

"I'm scouting," Wyatt lied. Francine laughed again and the two fell into easy back and forth banter and conversation. Both were stuck by how natural it felt for them to be together. Even when there were silences they were not awkward, they were comfortable, and both felt as if they had known each other forever.  

These thoughts made Wyatt think about Madam Zinga and her words about the person he was supposed to find. Was Francine that person? Had she lived other lives and had one of those lives been back when he'd been alive? Before he could try to think of a way to bring up his odd encounter with Madam Zinga, Francine looked over at him where he was sitting about ten feet away on the grass.  

"Can I ask you something personal?" she asked.  

Wyatt grinned, "You know pretty much all there is to know about me, Franny, what else could there possibly be you'd want to know about?"  

"How did you die?" she asked as she picked at the grass. She wasn't sure if you were supposed to ask a ghost that. It might be the equivalent of asking a woman her age but her dream had been on her mind all day. She simply could not shake the feeling that it had been more than just a dream. The details, the sounds, the smells had all seemed so real.  

Wyatt laid on his back and crossed his arms behind his head as he looked up at all the clouds. It was starting to get late in the afternoon. He didn't know how long the walk would be back to the apartment but he knew they'd have to leave soon. He didn't really want Francine out after dark on a Saturday night in the city. He would do what he could to protect her but there were some things he'd be powerless to stop. As a living breathing man he'd been a force to be reckoned with but as a ghost he was helpless most of the time.   

"I was shot, you know that already."  

"Yes I know, but where?"  

"Vicksburg," he replied with a frown and then he looked over at her. "Why?"  

Francine took in the sight of his long, lean body sprawled in the grass and then quickly looked back out across the lake, "I know you were shot in Vicksburg, Wyatt. What I meant was where on your body were you shot?"  

"Through the...." Wyatt's words were cut short when thunder rumbled.  

Francine looked up to realize that storm clouds were indeed rolling in. Leave it to late summer in Kentucky for storms to pop up out of nowhere, "We better get out of here. We're going to have to grab a cab or else we'll get soaked," Francine said as she jumped to her feet.  

Wyatt didn't remind her that she would be the only one that got soaked. He stood as well and then frowned as they started out of the park, "What's a cab?"  

"A car you hire that takes you where you want to go."  

"Like a stagecoach?"  

"Yes, but more expensive and over shorter distances."  

Wyatt walked with Francine and watched her hail a cab just as the rain started to sprinkle down. As the cab came to a stop Wyatt sighed and took a step back, "I'll be back after a while," he said and without offering further explanation to where he was going he turned and walked away back toward the park.  

---

Francine wondered what had caused Wyatt to suddenly leave her earlier as she stepped into the shower. She never had been able to talk to him about her dream. Now that she thought about it she wasn’t sure she wanted to tell him. Maybe he would think she was crazy if she told him about it.

She was still debating whether or not to be honest when she got out of the shower and a knock came on the door. She frowned, unsure of who could be knocking. It was nearly nine at night, a storm was raging outside and she didn't have any close friends in town other than Janice.  

She wrapped her towel around herself and walked to the door. She looked through the peep hole and smiled when she realized it was Wyatt. She opened the door and Wyatt's eyes widened as they scanned her up and down. Francine blushed and stepped aside so he could enter the apartment.  

"You don't have to knock," she assured him as she shut and locked the door.  

He shrugged as he turned and she realized that he was holding something behind his back and out of her sight, "I didn't want to come in and walk in on you... um... improper." When he said improper his eyes were locked on her long, lean legs.  

Francine put her hands on her hips and cleared her throat, "Eyes up here, soldier boy," she teased.  

Wyatt quickly looked at her face, "Of course. I'm a... I'm just not used to..." he was shifting his feet and looking nervous enough that she feared he might shake right out of his boots at any moment.  

"Why don't you tell me what you have behind your back?" she asked and he quickly held out the bouquet of wildflowers and what smelled like a fresh baked apple pie. Francine wasn't quite sure what to make of the offering. It was completely unexpected and touching. She took the flowers, careful to avoid touching him, knowing that that was something he wanted desperately to keep from happening.  

She put the flowers to her nose and smiled. Wyatt felt his heart beat a little faster as her dark eyes looked at him through those long lashes over the top of the bouquet.  

"Thank you," she whispered, finding that she couldn't think of anything else to say. She had never in her life been given a bouquet of wildflowers. Horribly expensive and gaudy bouquets of every other flower, yes. But never something so simple and perfect.  

"You're welcome. Sorry it took me so long but it was hard to find just the right flowers, especially once it started getting dark." He held up the pie, "I knew it was probably too late for dinner so I brought you dessert." 	Francine smiled as she made her way to the kitchen with him behind her. She found a cup to use as a vase and filled it with water before putting the flowers inside and setting it in the center of the tiny table.  

"Set the pie on the table," Francine said. "I'll be right back." She left the kitchen and walked back to her room where she threw on an oversized black t-shirt and a pair of red and black flannel pants. She walked back into the kitchen and over to the drawer beside the sink. She dug around in the drawer for a fork.  

"I won't ask about the little old lady you stole this from," she said with a smile as she sat down and stuck her fork deep inside the delicious smelling, moist pie.  

"She was actually a he and he had a whole bakery full. I figured he wouldn't miss one," Wyatt replied as he grabbed a cup from the cabinet. He got the milk from the refrigerator and filled it before setting it on the table in front of her. Francine took a bite of the pie and thought for sure she was in heaven. The taste was familiar.  

"Did you steal this from Grandilini's Bakery?" she asked before shoving another bite into her mouth.  

Wyatt grinned as he sat down across from her, "You said you weren't going to ask," he reminded her.  

 She shrugged as she took a drink, "I guess it doesn't really matter where you got it.... All that matters is that this thing is delicious."  

"I'm glad you like it," Wyatt replied. He wasn't sure what made him bring her flowers and the pie. All he knew was that he was falling hard for her. Hell he might even be in love with the woman and he wanted to show her how well a woman as amazing as her deserved to be treated. Only problem was that if some other man showed up with flowers and a pie he'd end up wearing them when he left if Wyatt had anything to say about it.  

They were enjoying small talk while Francine ate her pie when the front door was thrown open and slammed shut. The sound of shoes bouncing off the wall was the next thing they heard and Wyatt frowned.  

"Is that you Janice?" Francine called out.  

"Yes, it's me," Janice replied, she sounded tired and a little scared. 	Wyatt and Francine immediately jumped to their feet and walked into the living room. Both of them gasped when they saw her. She was soaking wet, her dress was tore a little and her mascara was running down her face. There was a small bruise forming on her cheek.  

"What the hell happened to her?!" Wyatt demanded.  

Francine walked to Janice and wrapped her in a hug, "What happened?"  

"My date, big winner that he was, left me to find my own way home. I couldn't find a cab and so I was walking home. A man decided that he wanted to get to know me and when I said I wasn't interested he tried to drag me to an alley."  

"Oh my God! We have to call the police," Francine exclaimed.

 Janice shook her head, "There's no point. He's long gone," she replied as she stood there shaking. "The only good thing is that he won't be reproducing any time soon and he can now sing soprano in his church choir."

"Should I go look for him?" Wyatt asked. 	

"Wyatt wants to go look for him. Where did you run into him at?"  

"Casper's here?" Janice asked looking around and Wyatt picked up the couch pillow so she would know where he was. "Don't worry about him, Wyatt, I took care of him," she promised with a ghost of a smile.  

"Let's go get some dry clothes on," Francine said softly as she wrapped her arm around Janice's trembling shoulders. "I'll be back out in a while. Please stay," she added to Wyatt. Wyatt nodded. He had no intention of leaving.  

Francine helped Janice brush out her hair and slip into a long blue t-shirt that hung to her knees, "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked as she saw the bruises forming on Janice's upper arms.  

Janice nodded, "I'll be fine. How did your day go with Casper?"  

"Good..."  

Janice noticed her frown, "What's wrong?" she asked.  

Francine shook her head. She wasn't about to burden her best friend with her uneasiness over her dreams and the fact that she was falling in love with a ghost. Not tonight after Janice had just been attacked, "Nothing. Don't be worrying about me right now. Are you wanting to go to sleep or...."  

"No, I'm not tired." Janice replied quickly as a haunted look came over her eyes.  

Francine nodded, "Let's go watch some TV then." she said and the girls walked out to the living room. As they sat down and Francine turned on the television, Wyatt came out of the kitchen with the pie, two forks and two beers. He sat all of this on the table in front of them.  

Janice turned to Francine with wide eyes, "Francine?"

Francine smiled, "What?"  

"I like your ghost. Can we keep him?"

---

A few hours later, Janice fell sound asleep on the couch. Francine stood and turned off the television before yawning and stretching her arms over her head.

"I'll just let her sleep out here," she said to Wyatt and he nodded and draped a blanket over Janice's sleeping form.  

"You must have been a good brother," Francine whispered as they walked into the kitchen.  

"Not really. I was usually too worried about things I shouldn't have been worried about to spend much time with them. If I had known then what was going to happen to me I probably would have taken more time."  

"Hindsight's always twenty-twenty," Francine replied with a sad shrug. "But it doesn't really help much."  

"No it doesn't," Wyatt agreed. He could tell she was tired, "I'll be leaving and let you get to sleep," he said gently.  

"I'm not tired," she promised but she was proven a liar as a huge yawn overtook her and caused Wyatt to chuckle.  

"No, not a bit," he agreed.  

"Be nice," she warned.  

"Always," he replied. "Oh yeah, to answer your question that you asked me at the park; I was shot through here," he lifted his arm and laid his hand high on his rib cage. "It went into my heart."  

Francine felt as if the floor had just disappeared from beneath her feet. She swayed and caught herself on the table.

Wyatt saw all the color drain from her face and he was scared for her, "Are you okay?" he demanded quietly.  

She shook her head, "Wyatt, I had a dream...." she began and then she looked up at his face, her brown eyes wide with fear, "Please let me try to touch you."  

"No," he replied quickly.  

"Please?"  

He looked over her head and caught sight of the calendar on the refrigerator, "No," he growled angrily, "I have to go!" He quickly turned and walked through the wall and out of sight.

 Francine sank down in the kitchen chair. She hadn't meant to make him that angry. Should she go to his apartment and talk to him or give him time to cool off?  

She decided letting him cool off was the better option. He had a bad temper and chances were he'd show up with coffee in the morning and all would be forgiven. Then she'd be able to tell him about her dream. Or should she? Because in her dream she had walked away from him assuming he was already dead, only to have him take a breath once she was gone....  

She shook her head. The dream wasn't real, it was just a dream. It had to be a coincidence that he had been shot in the same place. She went to the living room and grabbed the empty beer bottles and the remaining pie. She put the pie in the refrigerator and threw the bottles in the trash before making her way to her bedroom.

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

The sound of men yelling roused Francine from her sleep a few hours later. She glanced at her clock and saw that it was nearly three in the morning. The yells grew louder. It sounded as if hundreds of men were crying out in the night. Suddenly loud, popping sounds filled the air as well. She could hear pain filled screams, frightened yells and desperate pleas resounding through the air.  

What in the hell was going on? Francine jumped from her bed, convinced that something very serious was going on somewhere in the building. She ran into the living room to find that Janice was still sound asleep. Francine frowned, as her heart beat out of her chest and fear clogged her veins. Janice had always been sound sleeper but this was ridiculous.  

A boom so loud she was sure the walls shook from its force, resounded through the air and Francine thought for one crazy moment that it sounded an awful lot like a cannon. But that was impossible wasn't it? The cries got louder but still Janice slept. Francine walked to the apartment door and peeked out into the hallway.  

To her the sounds were deafening, heart wrenching and scary but no one else seemed to be able to hear them. The hallway was empty and everyone's doors were shut. Francine heard a familiar voice cry out in pain and she immediately ran to Wyatt's door. He was hurt and she had to get to him.  

"Wyatt?!" she shouted as she pounded on his door. He didn't answer and the popping sounds and bangs grew louder and louder. Francine tried the door handle but it was locked. She was not big or strong in any sense of the word but right now she was filled with enough fear and adrenaline she could have lifted a mini van so kicking open the door wasn't very hard.  

The moment she stepped inside his apartment the noises stopped. The night became eerily silent as if nothing had ever disturbed it. Francine looked through the glowing light of the streetlamps from outside and saw a person lying on the floor in the middle of the room beside the couch. Her feet seemed to move on their own accord as she crossed the room. She didn't need to be told who was laying here.  

Wyatt was lying on his stomach on the wooden floor and there was something warm, wet and sticky beneath her bare feet. Her stomach turned when she realized it was blood. She didn't even think about what she was doing as she knelt beside him and grabbed his wool jacket to turn him over. He looked just as he had in her dream. His face was pale and colorless, his eyes were closed, and his lips drawn.  

There was one major difference. This time she wasn't going to leave him. She looked down at his chest and realized that he had a hole through his ribs and blood was pumping from the wound, though not very strongly anymore since a giant puddle of the stuff covered the floor. She looked back at his face and with a shaking hand she reached out and laid her hand on his cheek, which felt cool to her touch.  

It didn't truly dawn on her that she was touching him, after he'd sworn she wouldn't be able to. The only thought she had was that she had to somehow save him. She wasn't sure what was going on. She wasn't sure why she had heard the sounds of battle but she was sure now that's what the noise had been. She had no idea why a ghost was lying here bleeding on a dirty wooden floor. All she knew was that this was the man that she was fairly certain that she loved and he needed her.  

"Wyatt... Wyatt, please wake up. Please don't leave me," she whispered as she stroked her fingers over his brow. She nearly cried out with both fear and relief when his green eyes flew open and locked onto hers.  

"Franny... I can feel you."  

Francine smiled and looked down at his chest to check his wound only to find that the wound was gone, as was the blood. His jacket was intact with no sign of the gaping hole that had been there before. She looked back up at his face. His color had returned and he looked healthy and well and he also looked shocked as he covered her hand, which was resting on his cheek, with his own.  

Francine marveled at the warmth of his skin. She had always assumed that he would feel cold but that was not true. His skin was warm and firm beneath her hand.  

Wyatt stared up at her, feeling one hundred different emotions at once. The feel of her small slender hand pressed against his cheek was the first physical sensation he had had in almost one hundred and fifty years. How was this possible?  

"Are you okay, Wyatt?" she asked gently, though her voice was still shaky.  

Wyatt nodded as he reached out with his free hand and cupped her cheek. Francine's dark eyes slid closed as she leaned her cheek against his hand. This felt right. His rough, calloused hand felt right pressed against her, almost as if it was made to be there.  

"Why are you here?" Wyatt asked.  

Francine bit her lip and then stood up. Wyatt quickly got to his own feet and reached his hand out once more to run it down her bare forearm, "I heard noises, terrible noises, and I came in here to check on you."  

Wyatt frowned, "What did you hear?" he asked. He couldn't seem to keep himself from touching her. He had known he'd wanted to touch her since he'd laid eyes on her in the barracks that day but he'd never imagined that he would actually be able to do it. She was so soft and warm and.... Perfect. She was perfect. He had forgotten what it felt like to feel another person's skin against your own.  

"Cannons and gunfire..... Men screaming," she replied quietly.  

 Wyatt frowned. How had she heard that? "Are you okay?" he asked her.  

She nodded. A woman who didn't have her unusual gift may have been more frightened by everything she had heard and seen but Francine had seen unusual things before.. She'd never heard or seen something quite so realistic or horrible but now that Wyatt was touching her it didn't seem so bad.  

"There was so much blood around you," she gasped and he saw her face pale slightly.  

"I guess I should explain what that was," he offered and he led her over to the small torn up couch that still sat in this abandoned apartment. Francine sat down and curled her legs beneath her. Wyatt sat beside her and rested his forearms on his knees as he looked down at the floor.  

"I'm not sure how you heard what you did but what happened tonight happens every month on the anniversary of my death. I relive that night." 	Francine took a moment to digest this information, "So every month since you died you've gone through that?"

 Wyatt nodded, "But this time it was different. Somehow you stopped it before it normally ends when you touched me...." Wyatt looked over at her, his brow furrowing, "How can you touch me?"  

"I don't know," Francine admitted and then Wyatt reached out and covered her hand with his as if to ensure himself that he could touch her and it hadn't just been a dream or a cruel trick that he'd soon discover was a lie.  

"Wyatt, I need to tell you something," Francine said nervously as she chewed on her lip.  

Wyatt frowned and smoothed a loose curl from her face, the way he had so often longed to do. Her hair was soft and springy beneath his touch, "What, Franny?" he asked gently.  

"I had a dream about you... When you came into my room yesterday morning and told me I looked like I'd seen a ghost."  

"What kind of dream?" Wyatt asked, he could tell that she was nervous to tell him whatever it was and he wondered how a dream could bother her so badly.  

"I was in 1863. I was at the battlefield, Wyatt. It was after the battle and I was there with my fathers medicine bag searching for survivors I could help while the other women searched for their dead loved ones," she stopped again and stared at his jacket where the wound had been.  

"What else Franny? There must have been something else to have you this upset," Francine was afraid to tell him about her dream, because now she wasn't so sure that it was just a dream. Was it possible that she had lived a life before this one? Was it possible that she had been there in 1863?  

"I saw you. I found you in the bodies. I turned you over and you looked just like you did when I turned you over tonight. You were bleeding and the would in your chest.. I thought you were dead. I walked away from you." She had a tear gathering in her eye now. "After I walked away from you, you took a breath..."  

Wyatt stared hard at her for several long moments, "I guess Madam Zinga wasn't crazy after all."  

"Madam Zinga?" Francine asked. 	

"An old woman I met the other night. She said I died before I met the one I was supposed to meet. She said I had unfinished business and so she turned me into a spirit," Wyatt gave her hand a squeeze, "Because that's what I am. I'm not a ghost. She said the person I was supposed to meet had lived many lives and had been alive back when I died. She also said the person had a gift."  

Francine would have laughed out loud but given the current situation what he said didn't seem all that crazy, "You think she was talking about me?"  

"You said you have weird dreams sometimes," Wyatt replied, trying to focus on the conversation instead of on how the soft skin of her hand felt against his. "What are they?"  

Francine told him about some of her dreams and he was smiling when she was finished, "It's you then, Franny. You are who I was supposed to meet and didn't."  

Francine let loose her tears then and pulled away from him. She stood up and walked over to the door, stopping in the doorway and keeping her back to him. Wyatt stood and walked to her. He wrapped his arms tight around her from behind and buried his face in her hair. It had been so long since he'd felt anyone against him and the fact that this was Francine simply made the experience even more special.  

"Why are you crying?" he asked. 	

Francine leaned against him and swiped at her face with the back of her hand, "It's my fault you died," she sniffed.

 Wyatt smiled and shook his head, "No I think the rebel soldier who fired the gun that sent the bullet into my heart gets the blame for that."  

"Yes, but I could have saved you.. That's what my dream was telling me."  

Wyatt turned her around and put his hands on her cheeks, "You couldn't have saved me, Franny. The wound was too serious and I'd lost too much blood."  

"This Madam Zinga, did she seem to know a lot about all of this?" Francine asked as she gazed up at him.  

Wyatt nodded, "She seemed to know but she didn't want to tell me anything. She kept saying it was for me to figure out."  

"I want to talk to her."  

Wyatt nodded, "I'll take you to her shop later. Right now you need rest. You are exhausted."  

Francine nodded as she took a step away from him, "Are you sure you'll be okay?"  

"It only happens once a month." he replied gently. He wanted to take her back in his arms and hold her. Smooth her hair. Kiss her lips.... But that would not be proper. There was no reason for him to expect her to want to be with him just because they could touch. Saying goodnight to her in that moment was the hardest thing he'd ever done when all he wanted was to touch her forever, but he managed to get the words out and after one last long glance between them, Francine walked away.  

---

"Should you really be listening to a woman who lives in this part of town?" Janice asked as they walked down the run down streets and tried to avoid making eye contact with the many shady characters standing on the street corners making catcalls and dirty remarks as they walked by.  

There was one man in particular that had called Francine a bitch as she walked by. Wyatt had proceeded to pick up a glass bottle and hit the man over the head. Janice had laughed and, once Francine realized the man was not dead, she had scolded Wyatt. Wyatt had simply shrugged and continued walking. Back when he'd been alive a man could get shot for calling a lady a name like that, so Wyatt figured the man had gotten off easy.  

"Wyatt said she seemed sure about what she was talking about," Francine replied. "And it makes a weird kind of sense when I think about all the dreams I've had."  

"Reincarnation," Janice said with a grin. "That's cool. I wonder if I've been a panther in a past life," she added as she looked down at her bright orange fingernails.  

"I don't think it works that way," Francine replied with a roll of her eyes.

 They approached a group of men, wearing chains and leering at the women. Wyatt wrapped his arm around Francine as they walked by and though no one but Francine knew he did it, it still warmed her heart and made her feel protected.  

"Why did Janice come again?" Wyatt asked as the group of men ogled Janice's backside in her short red skirt.  

Francine glared at him, "Because she is my best friend and she wants to support me."  

"I just want to meet a fat Russian chick that plays with bones," Janice added with a smile.  

Francine and Wyatt shared a look and then they both laughed. Wyatt pointed at a shop down the road and Francine felt nerves begin to dance in her stomach. Was she reincarnated? Was she supposed to have saved Wyatt all those years ago? Had she let him die when she could have helped him to live? Was she the reason that Wyatt's spirit had been forced to live on alone for so long? Francine hoped that Madam Zinga would be able to answer at least some of these questions.  

Wyatt's arm tightened around her and she knew that he must be feeling nervous too. All morning he had been finding every excuse he could to touch her and she had not complained because his touch was the most right thing she had ever felt.  

They walked into the shop and all the sights and smells assaulted their senses. Janice let out a low whistle, "Wow, this place is something else." she said as she tilted her head and went cross-eyed while staring at a shrunken head dangling from the ceiling.  

A bell chimed upon their entrance and a definitely Russian voice called out, "I be out in a moment."  

Francine moved away from Wyatt and stared at a glass case that seemed to hold different colored paws. She wasn't sure what the paws had come from but judging by the structure she would guess they were from some kind of monkey.  

"Look at this." Wyatt whispered and Francine turned to see the black and white pictures in an album on a shelf. She stepped closer and realized they were from the war. The Civil War. These intrigued her but before she could go through them a door opened in the back and her attention went immediately to the woman who entered.  

Madam Zinga looked exactly as Wyatt had described her. She was shorter than Francine had imagined she'd be and bigger as well. Her velvet dress was dark green, her red and gray hair was in a bun and her lip liner was at least five shades darker than her lipstick.  

"Wyatt, how nice of you to return and I see you brought your friends with you," she said with a smile that revealed the rotten quality of her teeth.  

"Dental hygiene, obviously not a biggie," Janice whispered to Francine and Francine shushed her.  

"Francine!" Madam Zinga exclaimed as she made her way across the floor, somehow managing to keep her wide hips from knocking over the displays. She stopped directly in front of Francine and then laid a cool, long nailed hand on her cheek, "I never thought I see you again. How nice of you to come, my dear."  

Francine looked up at Wyatt who just shrugged. He'd warned her that Madam Zinga was a weird one, "Have we met?" Francine asked, turning her attention back to Madam Zinga and her bright yellow eyes.  

"Of course we have darling, many times. Though I forget that you do not remember. Madam Zinga forgets at times that not all of us can remember our past lives."  

"Speaking of past lives, have I ever been a panther?" Janice asked.  

Madam Zinga raised a painted on brow and frowned at her, "No, Janice. However, you did work for a brothel once. Quite a profitable brothel it was too."  

"I told you so," Wyatt said with a chuckle and Francine smacked his arm.  

"Ah, I see you figured it out," Madam Zinga said with delight.  

"Why didn't you tell me that she was who I was supposed to meet, Madam Zinga?" Wyatt asked accusingly.  

Madam Zinga shrugged, "That was for you to figure out not for Madam Zinga to tell you. And see it did not take long. You are both very smart."  

"Madam Zinga can I please talk to you about the day Wyatt died?" Francine asked.  

Madam Zinga nodded, "Of course." She led them all back to the corner with the tiny couch and chairs. Madam Zinga sat on the couch and Francine sat on the tiny space left beside her while Janice took one of the small chairs. Instead of sitting, Wyatt stood behind Francine and kept a comforting hand on her shoulder.  

"What do you want to know, my dear?"  

"I had a dream that I was at the battlefield right after he was shot... I had a medical bag."  

"That was not a dream, it was a memory. Your father in that life was a doctor. You followed in his footsteps, although it was highly unheard of for a woman to be a doctor in that time. You were very independent and uncaring of society rules even back then," Madam Zinga said with a smile. "You've also been a queen, a slave, a duchess and a Scottish rebel. To name a few."  

Francine's head spun at all those different titles and she knew she just needed to focus on the one that mattered right now, "In my dream I found Wyatt lying in the field and I walked away from him because I thought he was dead, but he wasn't dead."  

"Most unfortunate that that happened," Madam Zinga replied. 	Francine bit her lip and looked down at her hands folded in her lap, "Did he die because of me? Would I have been able to save him?"  

Madam Zinga shrugged, "Perhaps or perhaps not. That is not something that Madam Zinga knows. I found him and knew he was too far gone to be saved then. I made him a spirit so you could meet during your next life, my dear."  

"Oh come off it, you have to know the truth," Janice said as she grabbed the cup Madam Zinga had been shaking the other night and looked at the bones inside.  

Madam Zinga glared at the girl and took the cup from her in a lightning fast motion, unexpected from a woman so old and large, "Wyatt perhaps could have lived if she had stayed with him. She was a very skilled doctor." Then Madam Zinga shrugged, "But perhaps not because he had lost a lot of blood before she ever got there."  

"I could have saved him," Francine said as she stared down her hands and fought back a wave of guilt.

 Wyatt's hand squeezed her shoulder and she was fairly certain he pressed a kiss to her hair. Madam Zinga smiled, "I see you figured things out well, Wyatt. You see Wyatt's life as a soldier was his last life. He was to pass on once he died and, Francine, this life you are leading now is your last. I knew that if you did not meet then you would never find the other half of your soul for eternity. You see you must be with your soul mate in your last life in order to spend eternity in the hereafter together."  

"You mean they've been together before?" Janice asked.  

 Madam Zinga nodded, "In nearly every life they've lived."

 Francine shook her head, "I don't believe in soul mates," she argued and she didn't most of the time. She didn't believe that two people could be destined from birth to be together. That seemed like a fairy tale to her and she had never had much use for fairy tales.  

"Whether you believe in them or not does not change the way things are," Madam Zinga replied dryly, her Russian accent becoming more profound with her irritation.  

"Well I found a flaw in your story," Francine countered. "If Wyatt and I are soul mates and if we have to be together in our last life in order for us to be together in the hereafter then we would not have been together anyway since his last life was his 

last life and this is mine.“

"You think you are so smart. Do not try to outsmart Madam Zinga," Madam Zinga warned as she pointed one short, stubby finger in Francine's face. "You would have been together in his last life and that is all that mattered. Now this is your chance. I gave this back to you. You should thank me."  

"Thank you for making Wyatt spend over one hundred and forty years alone? Thank you for making him a ghost that no one else can see or hear? How did you do us any favors? I can believe in reincarnation and I can believe that I did see him on the battlefield but I refuse to acknowledge something as ridiculous as soul mates."  

Wyatt saw Janice frown but she didn't say a word which he found strange since she normally said whatever she felt like saying.  

"Believe what you will, Francine, but Madam Zinga did a big favor for your and Wyatt's happiness. You should be thanking me, I could have gotten in trouble for what I did and I still could. The fates do not like it when I intervene."  

"Thanks for all of your help Madam Zinga," Sarcasm dripped from Francine's words and then she stood up and walked out of the shop leaving the three of them sitting there in shock.  

"I'll figure out what's wrong," Janice said and she quickly followed Francine out the door, pausing just long enough to wave at one of the shrunken heads on her way out the door.  

Wyatt shook his head and then looked at Madam Zinga, "Are you sure about all of this?" he asked her.  

"Of course I am sure. You would dare to doubt me?" she asked, clearly annoyed by his question. "Did you not feel the pull toward her? Why do you think she can hear you? See you? Touch you?"  

Wyatt nodded and then made his way out of the store. He didn't know if he believed in soul mates either but he definitely had noticed the pull toward Francine. As if to prove the pull was there his eyes wasted no time glancing around the streets, but settled instantly on Francine standing about two blocks away on the other side of the street as she spoke to Janice.  

Wyatt had a feeling that no matter where Francine went, no matter how many others were around, he would find her. He was drawn to her the way a moth was drawn to a flame. Maybe Madam Zinga knew what she was talking about after all.  

---

"What was that dramatic exit all about?" Janice demanded of Francine once she caught up to her outside.  

Francine turned and Janice saw the tears in her eyes, "I don't believe in soul mates and all that nonsense," she replied.  

Janice snorted, "Yes you do. I've been your friend for what, ten years now? You have always talked about finding the person made for you. Guess what? You found him! It's a bit strange and unorthodox but you found him just the same."  

"I can't," Francine squeaked as she fought back her tears with all she had.  

"Why not?" Janice asked gently.  

Francine looked at her best friend. The bruise on her cheek was hidden with some well placed make up but she had several on her arms that were visible where her t-shirt did not cover her. She shouldn't be putting her problems on Janice right now.  

"Don't even think about not telling me what's wrong because you're worried about me. Now I have a feeling Casper will be following after you within seconds so you might as well tell me."  

Francine looked across the street and her eyes locked with Wyatt's. She looked back at Janice, "I killed him, Janice. How can I be with the man when the reason he is a ghost is because I turned my back on him when he needed me?"  

"You thought he was dead... And that was like almost one hundred and fifty years ago."  

"That doesn't matter. He's still a ghost and it's still my fault."

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Francine changed into a pair of blue stretch pants, a pink shirt and running shoes when they got back to the apartment. She pulled her hair back tight on her head, grabbed her I-pod and slipped back out the door without a word to anyone.

Wyatt knew she didn't want him to come along and so he paced the apartment instead. Something was wrong with her and he had no idea what it was. She wouldn't speak to him and while she hadn't pulled away from his touch, she hadn't encouraged it either since leaving Madam Zinga's shop. He wondered if maybe he'd pushed her too far with the touching. He'd been looking for every excuse to brush against her, lay his hand on her arms and shoulders or smooth her hair.  He hadn't been so touchy feely in life but after so long feeling nothing, touching Francine was something much like what he imagined heaven would be.  

After a while, Janice came out into the living room in sweatpants and a tank top and flopped down on the couch. She turned the television on and sat a laptop in her lap. Wyatt paced and paced, he wasn't sure how long but finally he couldn't stand it any longer. He grabbed the paper and pen off the table and for the first time Janice didn't jump with fear when it raised into the air.  

What is rong with Franny?

"That is not for Madam Janice to tell you, it is for you to find out," Janice said doing a very good impression of Madam Zinga.  

Wyatt rolled his eyes and scribbled on the note pad. 

Tell me. If I did something rong I need to no.

Janice sighed and shook her head, "I can't tell you, Casper. Francine and I have a code and that code is we don't share what we tell each other in private. If you want to know what's wrong then you'll have to talk to her."  

Where is she? Wyatt asked, fully prepared to go find her.

"I can't tell you that either. She wants to be alone."  

Wyatt growled and threw the couch pillow across the room, startling Janice. 

I’ll just go find her. It will be easy.

"You have a temper," she scolded. " And easy? This city is huge, how do you think it will be easy?

I cud find her. I am pulled to her.

Janice smiled wistfully as she laid her head back and covered her heart with her hand, "That's really sweet...and a little crazy stalkerish," she sat up and looked in his direction. "Look, what's wrong with Francine is really nothing you can fix. All I can say is show her how much you care about her and court her or whatever it is you nineteenth century men did."  

Wyatt frowned and tossed the paper and pen down on the table. He didn't like Francine being out alone, not after what had happened to Janice last night but he had a feeling that telling Francine that would only make her angrier.  

Wyatt wasn't used to dealing with a woman that seemed to be angry with him. He had been considered handsome back when he'd been alive and most women had fought amongst themselves to be close to him. How did a man go about making up with a woman when he was absolutely clueless as to what he had done wrong in the first place?  

"Now leave me alone and let me watch some TV before I have to go to work." Janice said as she curled her legs beneath her and began flipping through channels, keeping her laptop balanced on her lap.  

Will you be ok out tonite by yourself?

Janice laughed lightly and then batted her lashes, "Are you saying that you care about little old me?" she teased.  

Yes. If my guns still shot reel bullets I would kill the man that hurt you and I would beat the man that left you alone hafway to deth. 

“Only halfway?” Janice asked with a frown and then she laughed. “I’ll be fine, Casper. You sure are overly protective in a sweet kind of way. Maybe you were my brother in a past life.”

No.

“How can you be so sure?”

Becuz no sister of mine wud have worked in a brothel.

---

Francine stayed out as late as she dared to. She ran for a long time, then made her way to the park but the rolling hills and long grasses only made her think of Wyatt.  

Wyatt..... Should she just accept the things that Madam Zinga had said and let herself love him? Was it right or was it wrong? She was the reason he was a ghost and yet he didn't seem to blame her. As a matter of fact she was fairly certain that he was absolutely crazy over her. Then she frowned as she started the long walk back toward home. 	

Was Wyatt really crazy about her or was he crazy about the idea of having someone that could hear, see and touch him? She wanted to believe that it was her he liked, but would he feel the same way about any other woman if she had been the one to hear and see him?  

Francine nodded as she came to her decision. Friendship. She would give Wyatt friendship because she couldn't stand the thought of him going back to his lonely existence but that was all she and him could have. She wasn't sure that he wanted more than that either but she would make sure that it was understood from the beginning.  

When Francine walked into the apartment that evening she was instantly aware that something absolutely delicious had been cooked for dinner by the scents that filled her nose.  

"I was about to come out looking for you," Wyatt said as he walked out of the kitchen. He wasn't wearing his jacket or any of his weapons or satchels. The first three buttons on his white shirt were undone, revealing those hard lines and tan planes of his chest once again. Francine could also see a dusting of dark hair. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and Francine realized that his forearms were thick with muscle and covered in that same dark hair. His hat was gone, his hair was falling carelessly across his forehead and Francine swallowed hard. Why did he have to be so damn handsome?  

"Sorry, I went out for a little exercise," she replied as she thought about how horrible and sweaty she must look.  

Wyatt nodded, he could remind her that she'd been gone for hours but he figured that wouldn't do anything but make her mad which he was hoping to avoid, "I made you dinner," he said instead.  

Francine nodded, "Let me get a shower and change my clothes quick, okay?" she asked and she turned to head back to her room.  

Wyatt reached out and grabbed her gently by the arm. The contact was electric and suddenly the living room seemed far too small and far too hot to stand, "Are you angry at me?" he asked, his voice several octaves lower than normal. 	

Francine shook her head and offered him a smile, "No, I promise I'm not angry at you," she replied. "I just stink and I need a shower."  

Wyatt released his hold on her arm, yet the heat from his touch was still coursing through her, "You don't stink, but go ahead and get a shower. I still have to finish some things up anyway," he replied and he turned and walked into the kitchen.  

Francine quickly went to her room and picked out a pair of jeans and a pink tank top that was cut low in front. Why grab those instead of lounge pants and a big t-shirt? She wasn't really sure. Hadn't she just decided that she couldn't be with Wyatt? Just the sight of him and the feel of his touch had her realizing that that would never work. She was drawn to him... Pulled to him in a way she couldn't explain  

Would it be so bad to give this a try and see what happened? If she believed Madam Zinga's words about reincarnation then she should believe the rest of it as well. Maybe Wyatt was her soul mate and they were meant to be together.  

Francine went to the bathroom and took the worlds fastest shower. She pulled on her clothes, put some mascara on her lashes and gloss on her lips and then went back to the kitchen. Her eyes widened when she saw Wyatt set a glass of what looked like wine on the table beside the plate of delicious smelling and gourmet looking food.  

"You made this?" Francine asked.

 Wyatt smiled proudly as he pulled out her chair, "I found the recipe in that book. Lemon zest baked chicken. I wasn't sure what zest was but Janice helped me. Brown rice, stir fried vegetables and bread sticks."  

"Did you make the bread sticks?" Francine asked with disbelief. 	Wyatt shook his head, "No... I cheated and went and got them."  

"Stole them?" Francine amended with a smile.  

Wyatt chuckled as he sat down across from her, "Borrowed without asking and with no plan to return them."  

"I take it your moral compass points......"  

"Due south." Wyatt cut in with a wicked grin that had Francine's heart kicking up a faster rhythm in her chest. Where had that grin come from? She'd never seen it before and it was definitely dangerous and effective.  

"So did you and Janice talk about me while I was gone?" Francine asked as she took a bite of the chicken and was helpless to stop her eyes from rolling into the back of her head at its deliciousness. She could definitely get used to having her own personal gourmet chef.  

"A little," Wyatt replied. Lying would have been stupid since Francine could easily pick the notepad up and read for herself everything Wyatt had written. "I asked her what was wrong with you."  

"Did she tell you?" Francine asked as her rice and vegetable loaded fork stopped in the air halfway to her mouth.  

Wyatt shook his head, "She said you have a code," he replied. Then he looked longingly at the chicken. "Times like these I wish I could eat... Chicken was always my favorite."  

Francine felt a wave of fresh guilt. It was her fault he couldn't eat chicken. She stuck the bite full of rice in her mouth, choosing to eat her emotions instead of speak about them.  

They made small talk and fell into their comfortable ease around each other as Francine finished her meal. Then Wyatt led her out to the living room. She was about to turn on the television and sit down but he shook his head. He'd been thinking all day of a way to woo Francine. He'd had to enlist Janice's help because he wanted to dance with Francine but could not take her to a club. She would be seen as crazy if someone saw her dancing by herself which is what it would look like if she danced with him.  

So instead Janice had helped him go through her vast CD collection. Wyatt had been amazed that that tiny circles of shiny metal could hold so much music. But he hadn't been happy with any of it. That's when Janice had had an idea. She'd gone to Francine's room and raided Francine's country CD collection. She had played Alabama and Wyatt had nodded. That's what he wanted. 	Then Janice had given him lessons (with the help of a giant stuffed panda bear, since Janice couldn't actually see or touch Wyatt) on how to hold Francine and dance slowly with her.  

"What are you doing?" Francine asked as he crossed the room.  

Wyatt started the CD player and the sound of Alabama singing "If I Had You" filled the room. Francine's dark eyes widened as she stared at him with shock. Wyatt wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and then held out his hand. Francine smiled shyly, suddenly feeling very unsure of herself and took his hand.  

Wyatt pulled her body against his and Francine wrapped her arms tight around his neck. He buried his face in her hair as he spun her around in a slow circle. Francine knew she was in love. She couldn't fight it and couldn't deny it. This man was everything she had ever wanted in a man and he was holding her just the way she had always wanted to be held. She felt like a treasure in his arms.  

Wyatt breathed in the cinnamon spice scent of her hair and felt his heart do a slow roll in his chest. He belonged to her. Back when he'd been alive men usually controlled their women. They weren't normally soft or tender. They made the rules and expected women to obey and be seen and not heard. They expected women to do everything for them and tend to their every need. Wyatt was different and always had been.  

He wanted to take care of Francine. Cook her meals, talk with her about her day, listen to her complain when she'd had a bad one and be the one to put a smile back on her face. His favorite smile of hers was the one that caused the little crinkles to appear around her nose.  He just wanted to be with her forever. He would do anything for this woman.  

When the song ended and the next one began, Francine pulled away a little. Wyatt looked down at her questioningly, "What's wrong? Something isn't right."

"Can we go outside and talk? I'd like some fresh air," Francine replied.  

Wyatt nodded and she took his hand and led him out of the apartment and up the stairs to the roof. It was dark and she leaned against the dirty brick wall and gazed up at the stars while he leaned his shoulder against the wall and gazed at her.  

"What's on your mind, Franny?" he asked. Strange that while he hadn't known her long he could read her fairly well. Maybe Madam Zinga was right and he had known her many times before. It would explain how she had felt so right and familiar in his arms.  

"Are you trying to woo me with the dinner and dancing?" she asked quietly.  

Wyatt was thankful for the shadows that kept his blush from showing as he cleared his throat and nodded, "I might have been." She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. "I know it's crazy and I know you deserve a man that you can actually be seen with and take home to your family but Francine I'll....."  

Francine cut him off by putting her hand over his mouth, "What if I told you that none of that matters to me? What if I told you that I just want to finally have a man who treats me like I matter?"  

Wyatt tried to focus on her words and ignore the tingling in his lips as her fingers pressed against them. He grabbed her wrist gently and moved her hand aside, "What if I told you that you matter to me, Franny? You matter to me more than anything else in this entire world has ever mattered to me?"

"I would say that you matter to me too," she replied. Now would be a good time to voice some of her concerns. Tell him that she feared she would never forgive herself for being the reason behind him being a ghost. Tell him that she was scared that he didn't care about her but about the person who could finally hear, see and touch him. She could have been any woman and he would feel the same because of her abilities. Yes now would have been the time to voice these things but the night seemed so perfect and she hated to ruin it.  

He slipped his arm around her waist and led her over to the edge of the roof. He pointed up at the sky, "There's Pegasus."  

 Francine frowned as she looked up at the thousands of stars, "Where?" she asked as she leaned into his embrace. He stuck out his finger and she followed where he was pointing with her eyes.  

"See right up there. There's a square and then you can see his legs...."  

"I see it!" Francine exclaimed with excitement as she clapped her hands. "Usually I'm lucky if I can find the Big Dipper."  

Wyatt laughed lightly, "There's 

Dephinus, the dolphin. And up next to him is Aquarius

,

the water bearer.“

Francine looked up at his rugged face, lit by moonlight and smiled with awe, "How do you know all of this?" she asked.  

Wyatt looked down at her and swallowed hard as the urge to kiss her nearly overtook him. He forced himself to take a step away from her. He wanted to make her fall in love with him and that took time. He was still pretty old fashioned in his beliefs about love, making love and marriage. Since he was a ghost he knew marriage was probably out of the question but he wanted some form of commitment much like that before their relationship went too far.  

He walked over to the wall and leaned against it, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, "My ma was real big into the stars and constellations. She taught my pa and while we were gone to war he taught me. Most days we spent just walking so at night we'd be plumb wore out. We'd lay down and he'd get to missing mama and I guess talking about the different constellations made him feel closer to her.  

"So your mom and dad were really in love?" Francine asked as she sat down on the large heating and air vent.  

Wyatt nodded, "Yes. Back then sometimes couples didn't really love each other. They'd just get married because it was easy or expected but my ma and pa got lucky."  

"What about you, Wyatt? Did you ever almost get married?"  

"I thought about it once," Wyatt said as he scratched at his head. He really didn't want to talk to Francine about this but as he'd already realized he couldn't deny her anything. "Her name was Emma and she was quiet, shy and predictable. I thought of asking her but the war broke out and I left without ever asking the question."  

"Did you love her?" Francine asked, surprised that she felt a little jealous. Was she honestly that pathetic that she'd be jealous of a woman who had probably died one hundred years ago?

"No," Wyatt replied after a moment. "Back then, I thought I did. Now, I know I didn't."  

"And I guess something miraculous happened in the last one hundred and fifty years to make you realize you didn't love her?" Francine asked with amusement as she walked over to the ledge and leaned against it so she could look down at the city streets.  

"Yes," Wyatt replied as he came to stand beside her.  

"What was that?" she asked, assuming he'd have some sort of joke in mind.  

"I met you." Francine blushed and looked down at her hands resting on the rough brick. "Do you know how to play poker. Franny?" Wyatt asked suddenly and Francine's brain whirled trying to catch up with his sudden topic change.  

"Um.. Yeah I know the basics. Why?"  

"Because I used to love to play and I haven't exactly gotten to in a long time." Yet another wave of guilt hit Francine. That would be her fault too. "Would you play with me?"  

"Yeah. I think we have a deck of cards in the apartment."  

Wyatt rubbed his hands together with excitement, "Let's go then," he said. One more minute alone on this roof with her and he was going to break his own rules about romance.

---

Francine found that Wyatt was much better at poker than she could ever hope to be and she figured the only reason she won a couple of hands was because he was starting to feel sorry for her.

Janice came into the apartment while they were playing and she raised her brow at Francine, "Is it strange that I come home and see you sitting at the table with floating cards in the air next to you and I don't find it strange?" she asked as she tossed her purse on the kitchen counter.  

"I see you made it back safe," Francine replied.  

"Yep. How did the night go? I guess I figured I'd find you both locked in the bedroom with a sock on the door."  

Wyatt frowned, "Why would we have a sock on the door?" he asked. 	Francine just shook her head at him and laid her cards down, "Not all of us are nymphomaniacs."  

"We can't all be perfect," Janice said with a shrug.  

Wyatt had no idea what the two of them were talking about and he rose to his feet, "I should go."   

"Why?" Francine asked as she stood as well.  

"Because it's nearly midnight and you have to work in the morning," he replied. "I'll be here bright and early with your coffee."  

"Could you make it a French vanilla cappuccino?" she asked with a smile.  

He nodded, "Anything you want."  

Francine followed Wyatt out to the living room, while Janice made a quick exit back to her bedroom. Wyatt walked to the door and Francine frowned.  

"Wouldn't it be quicker to go that way?" she asked as she pointed at the wall.  

"Yes, but this way makes me feel more normal," he replied simply. 	She stared up in his deep green eyes and wondered if he was going to kiss her. He reached out one large hand and smoothed it across her cheek, tucking her curls behind her ear, "I had a great time tonight, Franny."  

She nodded, "I did too." she replied, though it was hard to form words with his hand touching her so tenderly.

"I'll see you in the morning," he whispered and he pressed a feather soft kiss to her forehead before turning and walking out of the apartment.  

He heard her shut and lock the door behind him and he let out a sigh. Leaving her was hard but he was determined to take this slow. It wasn't like he had anything else to focus his time on.  All he had was her and he would make sure she knew he loved her before he pushed her too far.  

Francine walked to her room and slid out of her clothes. She pulled on a dark red silk gown and flopped down on her bed with a wistful sigh.  

"You sound content," Janice said when she walked in several seconds later.  

"He's amazing," Francine said happily as she rolled over on her stomach and braced her chin in her hands.  

"Did you talk to him about what was bothering you?" Janice asked.  

 Francine shook her head, "It doesn't seem to bother him so I'm trying not to let it bother me." All Janice knew about was Francine's guilt. Francine hadn't told her about her other fears.

 Janice nodded., "Good!" she exclaimed. "You can't hold yourself responsible for something that happened all that time ago!"  

Francine  yawned, "I need to get some sleep.  I have to go into work tomorrow and see if Wyatt's show to help me keep my job worked."  

Janice hugged her tight and then walked out of her room. Francine curled up beneath her covers and thought of Wyatt. She had hoped he would kiss her but she had to remind herself that he was from another time. A time when relationships tended to move a bit slower. She had seen the look in his eyes, the look that told her that the desire she felt for him was not one sided. This relationship was crazy. It made no sense and yet she prayed that somehow it would work.

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

"Can I come?" Wyatt asked that next Friday as Francine grabbed her sound recorder, camcorder and camera and put them in her black bag.  

"You want to come to the theater with me? I'm just going to be doing an interview and getting some pictures."  

"I want to be with you," Wyatt replied simply. "And who wouldn't want to see a haunted theater?"  

"Every other man I've been with," Francine mumbled under her breath as she slid on her black flats.  

Wyatt crossed the room to her and wrapped his arms tight around her, pulling her body against his, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm different," he whispered.  

Francine's warm breath washed over his skin as she rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his ear, "I've noticed," she whispered coyly.  

Wyatt smiled. Over the last week they had spent every spare moment that Francine had together. Wyatt still hadn't kissed her but tonight was the night he was going to. Instead of the usual kiss to the forehead when he left her tonight, he planned on sharing their first true kiss--at least in this life.  

"So can I come?" he asked as he pulled away from  her.  

"Since when have I had to invite you to come with me? You usually just tag along," she reminded him.  

Wyatt grinned sheepishly. He had been guilty of showing up at her office a few times this week. He had tried to stay out of her line of sight, he had simply wanted to see her, but whatever pulling force he felt toward her he knew she must feel for him because her eyes always found him.  

"Okay, I'm coming," he said.

 Francine smiled and her smile grew wider when Wyatt opened the door for her. She was still getting used to having a gentleman all her own. She was starting to get irritated that he wasn't kissing her but she kept trying to tell herself to be patient. However she wasn't waiting any longer than tonight. Tonight if the man didn't saddle up and take care of that kiss himself, she was going to be forced to take action.  

They walked downstairs and out to the parking garage. They got into Francine's Cavalier and started down the streets toward the old Granaldie Theatre. Francine's job had definitely improved on Monday when she had gone in. She had been given a very large raise, her own private office and an increased project budget. At first she had been unsure over it all because she felt she hadn't earned it but then Janice had reminded her of all the work she'd done the last few years and that everything she had gotten after Wyatt's stunt was long overdue, and her uneasiness had vanished.  

She had ghost sightings and stories piling up on her desk, plenty enough to keep her busy for a year or longer. Yes her job was perfect. Everything in Francine's life was looking better now that she had Wyatt. 	She had a man who treated her like a queen. He did more for her than she expected but she wasn't about to complain and he really listened when she talked.  She was still struck with guilt whenever he mentioned something he couldn't do or eat but she was trying to let go of that feeling since he didn't seem to be bothered by their past. It was harder to shake the feeling that she could be anyone and as long as she could see, hear and touch him he would feel the same about her. She knew she should talk to him about it but life was so perfect right now and she didn't want to ruin it.  

"So what happened at this theatre to make everyone think it's haunted?" Wyatt asked as they made their way through town. 	

"The owner of the theatre back in 1920 was in love with one of the actresses. He spent thousands of dollars on gifts, jewelry and flowers. He kept her in the biggest play they had, even though she wasn't that talented of an actress, just because he wanted her to be near him. She accepted everything from him and they began to have an affair. He fell in love, she did not. He caught her with another of the male actors in her dressing room and there is documented proof that in a fit of rage he killed the actress, the actor she was cheating with and then himself."  

Wyatt nodded, "Romance, betrayal, murder... All the makings of a dime store novel."  

"There's no such things as dime stores anymore but you're right. Now there are many rumors and stories about the owner and the actress still being in the theatre."  

"I hope not. That's a lonely way to live," Wyatt replied as he stared out the window. Riding in a car still made him nervous. He wasn't sure why. He couldn't get hurt but the thought of so many tons of metal surrounding him on all sides and running off of something known to burst into flames made the nineteenth century man in him more than a little uneasy.   

Francine felt that familiar wave of guilt at his words and tried to push it aside. She got in the turn lane and gazed through her sunglasses at the people walking up and down the sidewalks.  

"Are there really not any more dime stores?" Wyatt asked.  

 Francine shook her head as the light turned green, "Nope. I don't think you can buy anything for just a dime anymore."  

"Really?"  

"Really," Francine said as she started down the empty side street where the theatre stood. "Just a regular old candy bar is close to a dollar now."  

"A dollar?!" Wyatt exclaimed. "Hell I could have bought more than half the candy store for a dollar!"   

"You're showing your age," Francine teased as she pulled in the parking lot and she and Wyatt looked at the large run down building. With its towers and film covered glass ticket booth, the theatre truly looked like something out of an old time horror movie.  

"Wow," Wyatt said simply as they climbed out of the car.  

Francine pulled her camera out and began snapping pictures of the theatre, "You never know, something might show up in a picture that we can't see." she said in response to Wyatt's questioning look.  

"I hope something shows up! It will be great to finally have some documented proof of the ghosts that live here," A man who appeared to be around thirty years old and was dressed in a cream colored suit and looked liked he'd just stepped out of the 1920's himself said as he approached Francine. Clearly he had thought that she was talking to him and she reminded herself that she couldn't talk to Wyatt or hand him things to hold while they were here and people were around.  

"Hello, my name is Francine Ryan," Francine said as she shouldered her leather bag and held out her hand.  

"Bradley Owens," he replied with a smile as he shook her hand. Francine noticed that he held it several moments longer than was necessary and his blue eyes scanned her up and down. She glanced down at the slightly oversized black 'Winchester Guns' shirt she was wearing and her holy jeans. She hadn't dressed to impress. She had dressed to wander through dusty attics and back rooms all day.  

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Owens," Francine replied politely. "We talked on the phone."  

"Bradley, please," Bradley replied with a smile as he released her hand. "And I remember speaking to you. I assumed you'd have a camera crew with you."  

"No. I take the pictures and do the recordings myself. The recordings can't be used in the paper of course but I can put still frames from it with the article if I see anything interesting."

"I'm sure you'll see plenty interesting," Bradley replied. He took Francine by the elbow and led her toward the theatre.

 Francine was fairly certain she heard Wyatt growl and sound very much like an angry bear behind them. She shot him a look as Bradley launched into the story about the theatre and the murder suicide that had taken place here.  

"If you don't mind, Mr. Owens.... 

Bradley ,“ she amended at his insistent look. “I’d like to look around on my own and see what I can find. Most of the time I have better luck if it is just me.”

"I was hoping to accompany you. I can tell you all the history since it was my great uncle who built this place and killed himself inside it." 	Francine smiled apologetically and moved away from him, "I will make notes of any questions I have and ask you once I'm done looking," she promised.  

He seemed satisfied by that, "Good, then I'll see you when you're done. I'll be waiting at the old concession stands." Francine nodded and walked away from him and toward the auditorium. She closed the heavy double doors behind her and within seconds Wyatt was stepping through them.  

"Can I scare the living hell out of the smooth talking city slicker?" he asked as he looked around the giant room, the rows of dust stained red velvet seats and the wide stage. Everything was made of dark wood and large filthy tapestry's and swags hung from the walls and balconies.  

"Why would you want to do that?" Francine asked as she took out the sound recorder and hooked it to her belt. She grabbed her camera and began snapping pictures.  

"No real reason. I just don't like him."  

Francine laughed, "You're jealous... You're jealous of him!" she exclaimed.

 Wyatt frowned and walked down the long aisle way toward the stage, "No, I'm not."  

"Yes, you are," she argued as she slid the camera strap around her neck. "Why?"  

"Because he shouldn't be hitting on you when I'm standing right there," Wyatt replied as he looked around. "Do you see any ghosts?" 	Francine shook her head. She didn't feel anything out of the ordinary in the auditorium, "No, there's nothing in here right now," she replied. "And he couldn't see you, Wyatt. He didn't know I had anyone with me."  

Wyatt grumbled under his breath and ran his fingers over the waist height, dust covered, brass studded stage front, "We should try a different room if you don't feel anything here," he said without looking at her. 	Francine frowned. She had never seen Wyatt look as sad as he did right now, at least not since he'd been in Vicksburg. Had she done or said something? She walked to him quickly and took his large, calloused hands in her smaller, softer ones.  

"What's wrong, soldier boy?"  

 Wyatt looked up at the domed ceiling and the balcony above and shook his head, "Nothing."  

"Why don't you look into my eyes and tell me it's nothing?"  

"No."  

"Why not?" Francine asked, finding that she was amused by his almost childish antics.

 He let out a tired sigh and looked at her, "Because I can't lie to you if I'm looking at those pretty dark eyes."  

Francine smiled and leaned her body against his, "The great Madam Francine sees all," she teased. "Tell me what's wrong."  

"Janice does a better Madam Zinga than you," Wyatt informed her as he let go of one of her hands and smoothed a curl, that had fallen loose from her ponytail, from her face.  

"Maybe Janice was a fat Russian when she worked in the brothel." Francine replied with a shrug.  

 Wyatt laughed. He saw the look on Francine's face that told him she wasn't going to let the conversation drop, "It bothers me that other people can't see me with you," he admitted.  

"But I don't care...."  

"I know. So this entire conversation is pointless. It's not like we can change the way things are anyway, so there's no point worrying about it." Wyatt moved away from her and climbed up on the stage. He reached out for her hand and she placed it in his and he pulled her up to stand beside him. She marveled at the strength he had, lifting her with one arm as if she weighed no more than a feather.

"Wyatt, I don't want anyone but you," she assured him as she laid her hand on his rugged cheek. "I don't care what anyone else thinks or sees. I see you. I feel you. That's all that matters."  

Wyatt looked down at her full lips, parted slightly and glistening with the gloss she had put on them this morning. He tipped his head closer to hers and their warm breath mingled. Francine didn't wait for him to finish closing the distance.  

Her eyes slipped closed and she was sure the stage began spinning as his warm lips devoured hers. The kiss was hungrier and more eager than she had expected and she heard a wonton moan and nearly blushed when she realized it came from her. She leaned her body against his and felt him slip his arm around her and hold her up when her knees threatened to buckle beneath her.  

Wyatt was unprepared for all the sensations that assaulted his body at once. Her long, slender body pressed against his. Her hands clutching at the back of his shirt. Her tender lips, moist against his own. He hadn't wanted to do this here but sometimes a man just had to go with the flow. He used his tongue to part her lips and gain access to her mouth. He heard her moan and he could do nothing other than offer his own moan in return as his free hand went to her hair and tilted her head back so he could taste her more deeply.  

Suddenly Francine knew they were being watched. She felt a tremor run down her spine and a coldness filled her. There was a ghost here. She pulled away from Wyatt and looked over his shoulder to see a man standing there with a blood covered knife in his hand.  

The man was clearly dead. He didn't look the way Wyatt had always looked to her. Wyatt looked just as alive and healthy as Janice or Bradley. This man was pale and his eyes were black with dark bruise like circles around them. His clothes were covered in dark crimson blood and he looked angry as he watched them kissing on the stage. Wyatt was still reeling from their kiss and unaware that anything was wrong. Suddenly the man charged forward with the knife raised and, acting on instinct, Francine grabbed Wyatt and threw all her weight against him to shove him aside. The man with the knife went sailing harmlessly past and then disappeared into thin air.  

"What's wrong?" Wyatt demanded as he grabbed her and instinctively pulled his revolver.  

"Put your gun away, Wyatt, it doesn't even shoot real bullets," she reminded him as she took several deep breaths to calm herself.  

Wyatt frowned at the reminder that he couldn't protect her and holstered his gun, "What scared you so bad?" he asked again.  

"There was a ghost. The old owner I believe."  

"The one that killed his woman and her other man in the dressing room?"  

"Yes. He had a knife and he ran at you with it... I just reacted out of instinct." 	

Wyatt could tell she was still rattled over the incident. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her dark curls, "His knife is as harmless as my gun, love," he promised her.  

Francine felt her heart skip a beat when he called her love. She looked over her shoulder and up at his face, "I guess I better get to work. There is definitely something here."   

Wyatt nodded but instead of letting her go he caught her lips in another feather soft kiss that lingered on for several long moments. When he finally released her, she took a few moments to make sure her legs were not going to collapse beneath her before walking toward the edge of the stage.  

"I'm guessing the dressing rooms are backstage," she said.

 Wyatt shrugged, "You know more than me. I've never been in a theatre. I've never seen a play either. I would have liked to have seen John Wilkes Booth."  

"The man that killed Abraham Lincoln?" Francine demanded.  

Wyatt frowned, "He did?"  

"Yes," Francine replied.  

"I guess I missed that one," Wyatt replied with a shrug. Goosebumps jumped out on Francine's skin and she knew there was something near them.  

"No more talking, I'm going to turn the sound recorder on," she warned and Wyatt nodded and made a show of 'zipping' his lips.  

---

After several hours of searching for the sights of more ghosts they came up empty handed. The dressing room where the killings had taken place had been unexplainably cold and Francine had been fairly sure she'd heard a woman moaning but nothing showed up on the heat recorder and Francine didn't see anything herself. Wyatt snapped dozens of pictures but they'd have to wait until they were developed and the heat recorder had picked up several heat readings but they weren't human formed. Instead they looked more like puddles and Francine had a sneaking suspicion that they were blood.  

"Thank you for allowing me to look around, Mr. Owens," Francine said as she shouldered her bag and walked out to the concession area.  

"I told you to call me Bradley," he countered with a wink as he walked around the counter and came to stand in front of her. Too damn close in front of her if Wyatt had anything to say about it.  

"Bradley, I am fairly certain I saw your great uncle however I didn't get him on tape. What did he look like?"  

"Like me, only I've been told that my smile is more dashing," Bradley replied and his blue eyes twinkled as he gave her one of his 

dashing smiles.

Francine used every ounce of self control she had to keep from rolling her eyes while Wyatt threw his hand out as if he was slapping Bradley upside the head, but of course his hand passed through the man and merely caused him to shiver.  

"All that showed up on tape were these warm spots that look like puddles in the dressing room," Francine said showing them to Bradley.

 She felt the man slip his arm around her shoulders and before she could scold him and let him know that she was taken a loud crash sounded behind them and they turned to see that the cash register had been knocked off the counter.  

Of course, Francine could see Wyatt standing next to it grinning sheepishly but Bradley scratched his head, "How in the world did that happen?" he asked.  

"I have no idea," Francine replied, throwing Wyatt a look that clearly told him to knock it off. "I'll be going now. Thank you for your time, Mr. Owens and if anything shows up in the sound recording or the pictures I'll be sure to contact you and let you know. Thank you for allowing me to use this theatre and its occupants for my article."  

"You're welcome, Francine."  

Francine shook his outstretched hand and then shook her head, "Miss Ryan if you don't mind," she replied and then she turned and waved for Wyatt to follow her, "Let's go, soldier boy," she said, not paying any attention to the fact that Bradley would not know who she was talking to. 	Wyatt quickly followed after her, but not before passing through Bradley, who was scratching his head,  just one more time and chuckling as the man shivered and wrapped his arms around himself and his fancy white suit.

---

"Thanks for helping me with all of this, Wyatt. I've never had a man that would help me with my work before. They either laughed and considered it a joke or they assumed I was a little crazy for believing all of it myself,"  Francine said as she and Wyatt sat surrounded by photos and notes on Francine's couch. They had actually caught a few blurry images in the photographs and the sound recorder had indeed picked up the sounds of feminine moans of pain and an angry male voice shouting.  

"Well I think we've already covered the fact that I'm not like the rest of them. Since I'm a dead man myself I happen to believe that you're not crazy for believing in dead men," Wyatt replied with a wink.  "See, we make a perfect team."  

"Yes we do," she agreed.

"I find all of this fascinating. Learning all these stories. I'd love to visit every single historic sight you ever visit with you. Even back in the eighteen hundreds history always fascinated me."  

"It did?" Francine asked with disbelief. Wyatt nodded. "It's always fascinated me too."  

"We'll have to try to see all we can together," he replied.  

"We can do that later Just now I'd like to try that kissing thing again." Francine winked, feeling her body heat at just the thought.  

Wyatt's body responded to her words and he shifted on the couch and moved the photos out of the way. Francine laid herself across his lap and put her hand behind his head, to pull his mouth down to hers.  

Neither knew or cared how long they stayed that way. Kissing and touching. Wyatt felt himself loosing control and he knew that these kisses were going to lead to something else if he didn't stop. But he couldn't stop. She was everything he had ever wanted. He had loved her in a hundred lifetimes, he was sure of that. Even as his hands moved over her body he knew before he touched, how each part of her would feel. Almost as if he had touched it all before in a different time, a different place.  

The dip and valley where her waist met her hips. The gentle swell of her hips before they met her long, lean legs. He knew every inch of her body and he had never touched it in this life before today.  

Francine pulled away and gazed up at him, through passion darkened eyes, "Wyatt I...." Her words were cut off by the ringing of the phone. Her kiss swollen lips turned down in a frown and when the phone rang again she rolled her eyes and climbed over him to answer it.  

"Hello?" she let out a sigh when she realized it was her mother and laid down on her stomach across Wyatt's knees. She smiled when she felt the evidence of what her kisses were doing to him, pressed against her. She could tell Janice the answer to her question she'd asked back in Vicksburg... Or maybe she'd just keep this knowledge to herself.  

"Hi mom."  

"Hello, my dear. I called earlier and talked to Janice. She told me about Gregory. Good riddance to yesterday's trash is what I say."  

Wyatt smiled. Francine's mom talked so loudly that he could plainly hear every word she said.  

"I agree mom." Francine said as she turned on her back so she could look at Wyatt. He smiled and ran his knuckles up and down her smooth arm.  

"Your father and I are having a dinner next weekend for our anniversary. We expect you to be here."  

"I'll try mama," Francine replied. Wyatt couldn't resist the urge to poke her ribs and she let out a squeal and slapped him, "Stop that!" she scolded.  

"Stop what?" her mother asked. "Are you with someone? Is it a man? Not Gregory I hope."  

"No, it's not Gregory," Francine replied.  

"Let me talk to him."  

"No, mom."  

"Please?"  

"No.. He actually is getting ready to leave." Francine offered as an excuse. Wyatt couldn't very well talk to her mother on the phone because of course she wouldn't be able to hear him.  

"You're coming next weekend?" her mother asked with a definite pout at not getting her way.  

"I'll try."  

"And you'll bring your new friend?"  

"Maybe. I have to go now mom, I'm trying to get some work done. I love you, bye." Francine hung up and looked at Wyatt to see that he had a far off look in his eyes as he stared across the room.  

"What are you thinking about so hard?" she asked as she ran her finger along his tense jaw.  

Wyatt frowned. He was thinking about all the things he couldn't give her. He was pretty sure kids wouldn't be an option. Neither would a real marriage. Meeting her parents was definitely a no go. Taking her out and showing her off weren't going to happen either. Dancing, dinner, all normal dates were definitely off the table. Family and friends birthday parties, weddings, get togethers... He could never do any of these things with her because no one else could see him. 	

Should he voice his concerns to her? Probably. But she was looking at him with so much love in her dark eyes that he found himself unable to say what needed to be said.  

Instead he ran his hand over her cheek and smiled, "I love you, Franny." he said softly.

 Her eyes widened as she stared up at him and he saw tears glisten in her eyes before she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his ear, "I love you too, Wyatt."  

Wyatt had wanted to wait for a commitment like marriage before he made love to her, but marriage was out of the question and the love in her eyes and the willingness he saw there was all the commitment that he needed in that moment. He stood, lifting her into his arms as he did so and cradling her against him.  

"Take me to bed, soldier," she whispered breathlessly as she felt as if her heart was going to pound out of her chest and a deliciously throbbing ache grew in her body.  

"Yes ma'am," Wyatt replied and he had never been so happy to obey an order.

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Saturday dawned bright and warm. Francine woke when the sunlight through the blinds hit her eyelids. She snuggled up deeper into the warm cocoon of Wyatt's arms and felt her body tingle and heat at the feel of his long, well muscled body pressed against her back. They had fallen asleep curled up together naked but she found that he hadn't been lying when he had said that anytime he went to sleep and woke up he was back in his full union soldier getup, weapons and all.  His arms tightened around her and she smiled when he cupped one of her tiny breasts in his large callous covered hand.  

"Good morning, Franny," he whispered, his warm breath washing over her neck and shoulder.  

"Good morning." she replied, suddenly feeling shy.  

"There's no cappuccino waiting on you this morning," he said, his lips brushing across her shoulder blade. Francine trembled as she turned in his arms and snuggled up against him. She shifted uncomfortably when the wool fabric of his jacket caused her skin to itch and his saber scabbard dug into her leg.  

"This uniform is a pain in the ass," she said and he nodded in agreement. She laid her hand on his cheek and ran her thumb over the cleft in his chin. " All I need is you." she said softly, the words were corny and cliché but that didn't make them any less true.  

"And all I need is you. Forever, Franny. I love you."  

"I want you forever too," Francine replied, surprised that she was so sure of that fact so quickly.  

"I wish I could marry you, Franny. You know I would if I could, don't you?"  

Francine was surprised when she felt no urge to tell the man he was crazy. She had not ever thought about marriage with any other man she had ever been with. She had only known Wyatt for a little over a week but already she knew that with him it was different. She would marry him today if they could.  

"Casper?! Where's breakfast?" Janice's voice carried in to them from the living room. "Francine, where's Casper? I'm hungry!"  

"Did you forget how to cook your own breakfast?" Francine hollered back.  

"Yes," Janice replied simply. "Where is he?"  

"He's in here with me," Francine replied as she threw the covers off of herself and sat up.  

"That's a sight a man could definitely get used to." Wyatt said with awe as his eyes scanned her slender back.  

Francine blushed and pulled on her robe as she stood, "What's he doing in there!?" Janice asked with a whine. "Bringing you your daily cup of coffee?"  

"No... um....he's...." Francine stammered.  

 Janice burst out laughing, "You dirty little tramp!" she exclaimed as she came bursting around the corner and through the door.  

Wyatt stood from the bed and smiled with amusement when Francine turned a shade so red he was sure he could have fried up an egg on her forehead, "I am not a tramp!" she exclaimed. Her curls were sticking out in all directions and she had the look of a very satisfied woman this morning. 	All in all Wyatt was damn proud of the way she looked. It had been one hundred and fifty years since he'd had a woman but he hadn't lost it.  

"You had ghost sex," Janice wiggled her eyebrows. "Kinky," she added with a wink. Wyatt didn't know what kinky meant but judging by the look on Francine's face it was a good thing.  

"I'll go start breakfast," Wyatt said and he slipped around Janice and out of the room.  

"Is he gone?" Janice asked when she saw Francine relax.  

"Yes and if you ever embarrass me like that again I will kill you," Francine warned in an angry whisper.  

Janice waved her off, "You love me too much to kill me..... So ghosts can still do the deed huh?"  

"He's a spirit, not a ghost, and, yes, apparently they can," Francine replied in a hushed whisper.

 Janice sat down on the hope chest at the foot of the bed, "So was it good?"

 Francine blushed and smiled as she sat down as well, "Amazing.... Well until this morning when he woke up in full uniform and his saber poked my leg."  

Janice laughed loudly, "I like me a little saber in the morning."  

 A knock on apartment door interrupted the women. "I'll get it," Janice said and she jumped up and bounded out of the room in her short shorts and belly baring tank top.  

Francine stood up and walked over to her closet to pick out some clothes but froze when she heard Janice's angry yell, "What in the hell are you doing here?!"   

"I need to speak to Francine."  

Francine felt her stomach turn when she recognized Gregory's voice. After her nausea passed, her temper flared.  

"Why do you want to see her?" Janice asked, sounding both angry and bored.  

"I need to talk with her," Gregory replied and Francine was sure she heard sadness in his voice. Well that was just too bad for Mr. Gregory if he was sad. She didn't feel the least bit sorry for him. She stormed out of her room, fully prepared to tell him just that and then stopped short when she saw him.  

His normally tailored and groomed appearance was now sloppy and unkempt. He had a dusting of blond stubble on his face. His blue eyes were tired, his suit shirt was untucked and his tie was crooked. Francine saw Wyatt standing in the kitchen doorway looking ready to kill and she threw him a look and then walked across the living room to stand in front of Gregory.  

"What do you want?" she demanded.  

"To talk," he replied. "Privately," he added as he threw a glance in Janice's direction.  

Janice cupped her hand around Francine's ear, "Is Casper here?" she whispered.  

Francine nodded and Janice stood up straight, "Fine, I need to go check the mail anyway." She walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind her.   

"Can we please sit down and talk," Gregory asked as he motioned toward the couch.  

Francine shook her head, "I don't see that we have anything to say to one another. I think we said it all when you told me you were in a relationship with another woman."  

"That was a mistake," Gregory explained as he ran his hand through his slicked back hair.

 Francine snorted as she tightened the belt on her robe, "What was? Cheating on her? Cheating on me? Or maybe the mistake was getting caught."  

"Yes."  

Francine shook her head and started toward the door and he quickly grabbed her arm to stop her. Francine saw Wyatt stiffen and if looks could kill Gregory would have burst to flames and died in agony. Wyatt really needed to learn how to control that temper and not be so protective and jealous. She'd have to talk to him about that.  

"Which part was that yes for?" she asked Gregory.  

"Cheating on you of course. You were special."  

"How sweet," Francine said dryly. "Leave Gregory. We are done."  

"I'm losing my mind without you, Francine," he said, still holding her arm. "I felt so guilty about cheating on you that my subconscious made me hand you my cell phone that night."  

Francine nearly laughed out loud. So that's how he was explaining what had happened in his apartment? "If you're losing your mind then that's a discussion to have with your shrink, not with me. I'm done with you Gregory. You never did treat me right and I deserve better than you. So if you don't mind could you please leave now and try not to let the door hit you in the ass on your way out."  

 Wyatt chuckled but Gregory did not seem to be quite so pleased, "Why are you being so hard headed about this? We had something special for a year! I gave you gifts and money and you accepted them all! Now because I screwed up one time you're unwilling to forgive me?? We had a great sex life and passion that I can't find with anyone else! I want it back." 	At one time Francine would have agreed that they'd had great sex but now that she'd been with Wyatt she knew that Gregory could never compare. However she didn't like having her mistakes thrown in her face.  

"So what you're saying is you gave me gifts and money and every now and then I gave you great sex. Thanks for reminding me that I was no better than a whore," she said, her voice like ice.  

Wyatt took a few steps into the room and his green eyes narrowed at her, "I've never hit a woman but if you say something like that about yourself again I might just have to knock some sense into you," he warned.  Francine turned her head so she wouldn't have to look at him.  

"I never called you a whore," Gregory soothed gently as he reached out and laid his hand on her cheek.  

Francine had never realized just how soft his hands were. They weren't rough, calloused and rugged like Wyatt's were. She pulled her face away from him, "Don't touch me," she said sternly. "You need to leave, Gregory. Go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone. We are done." 	Gregory's face reddened and he looked hard at her, "There's someone else isn't there?" he demanded.

 Francine laughed out loud, "I hardly think you have the right to ask me that question!"  

"There is someone else! And he's here now isn't he! You look like you've been having sex all night," Francine's eyes widened at the inappropriateness of his statement.  

"You need to leave!" she said opening the door.  

Gregory grabbed her by both her arms and yanked her toward him. His lips covered hers roughly and Francine tried to yank away but he held her tight, his fingers hurting her as they dug into her tender skin. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of movement and she saw Wyatt's fist come flying toward Gregory's face. Of course his fist just passed through but the coldness and shiver it caused was enough to make Gregory pull away from her.  

Francine felt Wyatt's hands close around her arm and he yanked her backwards and put his body between her and Gregory, "Don't you touch her again," Wyatt's body was stiff and deadly looking, his expression icy and cold and his voice held serious threat. Francine knew that if Gregory could see and hear Wyatt he'd be crapping himself and running away as fast as he could.  

"You will come back to me," Gregory warned and he reached out, his arm passing through Wyatt and grabbed Francine by the robe. Francine stared down at his arm sticking through Wyatt and frowned. That looked really strange.

"I don't want to be with you." Francine reminded him as the beginnings of fear began to pull at her.

 Gregory stepped forward, passing through Wyatt, and threw Francine down on the couch. She let out a little cry but was quickly silenced when he kissed her roughly.  

Wyatt felt a rage and a helplessness like he had never felt before fill him. There was no way this man was going to do this to Francine! Wyatt would kill him! He tried to grab Gregory by the back of the shirt and roared in frustration when he was once again reminded that he couldn't touch him.  

Gregory's hand moved to Francine's breast as Francine kicked and fought against him. Wyatt grabbed the remote control off the end table and threw it with all his might. It cracked off the back of Gregory's skull and caused  the man to break the kiss and look up. Wyatt had already picked up Janice's laptop and he swung it with all his might.  

Gregory's eyes widened as the laptop moved on it's own through the air and he barely had time to let out a gasp before it came crashing against  his head.  

Francine kicked Gregory off of her as the man lost consciousness and fell limp to the floor. Wyatt instantly went to the couch and scooped Francine into his arms. She was shaking and staring down at Gregory with wide brown eyes.  

"Did you kill him?" she asked.  

"No, but I want to," he admitted. "That shouldn't have happened and if he could have seen me it wouldn't have. I can't keep you safe."  

Francine shook her head to clear her thoughts and looked at Wyatt, "You protected me just fine."  

"You deserve someone who can keep you safe. This could happen again."  

"No, it won't. I think you've probably knocked sense into him real good this time."  

Gregory stirred on the floor and Wyatt sat Francine on her feet. Gregory moaned as he pulled himself to his feet and then his blue eyes flew open wide as he looked around, "What the hell happened?"  

"My ghost knocked some sense into you," Francine replied simply. 	Gregory shook his head, "You're crazy!" he exclaimed. There had to be another explanation for floating laptops that hit people upside the head.  

"And you're leaving, or do I need to call the police?" Francine asked as she reached for the phone.  

 Gregory practically ran for the door, "I'm gone. You are certifiable!" Gregory shouted. He ran out the door, pushing past Janice who was just coming back in and then he was gone.  

"What happened?" Janice asked as she shut and locked the door.  

"He got a little forceful but Wyatt took care of it," Francine replied. "Oh yea, you might want to check your laptop."  

"My laptop? Did Casper hit him in the head with my computer?!" she demanded. Francine nodded and Janice laughed loudly, "I so wish I could high five you right now, Casper!" she exclaimed.

 Wyatt just let out a sigh and then walked away toward Francine's bedroom, "Something's wrong with him... I'll be right back," Francine said and she followed after him, shutting the bedroom door behind her.

 Wyatt was sitting on the edge of the bed and staring down at his boots, "What's wrong?" Francine asked softly.  

"I feel about as useless as teats on a bore hog that's what's wrong," he replied and Francine couldn't help but burst out laughing. Wyatt frowned, "What's so funny?"  

"You are. I've never heard that particular expression before."  

Wyatt was not in the mood for humor and he grunted as he looked back down at his scuffed up boots, "You don't understand, Franny. When I was alive, I was always somebody that nobody wanted to mess with. I could protect and take care of what was mine. I can't do any of that now. I can't protect you, not really, and I can't provide for you or do any of the things that I should."  

"I can provide for myself." Francine reminded him. "And I can protect myself too."  

Wyatt shook his head, "I love you, Franny. That's about all I have to offer you."  

Francine let out a sigh and realized she was going to have to stroke her man's ego. She walked to him and dropped to her knees in front of him, "I love you, Wyatt, and I don't need anything but your love in return."  

Wyatt buried his hands in her curls and tipped her head up so he could kiss her thoroughly. When he finally pulled away she was breathless and her eyes remained closed as her tongue flicked out and tasted him on her lips.  

"I'm so lucky I found you, Franny. I never thought I would feel anyone again."

 Francine stiffened. Her worst fears had just been confirmed and he didn't even realize he'd confirmed them. She stood quickly and went to her closet. Without a word she slipped off her robe and pulled on her bra and underwear.  

"What's wrong?" Wyatt asked from where he still sat perched on the edge of the bed.  

"I just realized something is all," Francine replied as she fought to hold her emotions in check and slipped into her jeans.  

"What did you realize?" he asked cautiously. He had been raised with a mother and sisters so he knew the tone a female used when something very serious was on her mind. Right now Francine's mind was going in a very serious direction.  

"That we can be friends but that's all we can be."  

Wyatt came off the bed in a rush, "What? Why in the hell are you realizing that?" he demanded.  

"Because you don't really love me."  

"I beg to differ," he argued with a snort.

 She shook her head and pulled her t-shirt over her head, "I could have been anybody, Wyatt, and you would feel the same just because I can see, hear and touch you."  

That was the single most ridiculous thing Wyatt had ever heard and he didn't hesitate to tell her, "That is the single most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."  

"My feelings are not ridiculous," she argued as her lips formed a thin hard line. 	

Wyatt nodded, "Right now they are. I love you."  

"No you don't. You only want to be with me because I can see and hear you."  

"If that was true, I'd run off with Madam Zinga."  

"That's not funny, Wyatt. I'm very serious right now."  

Wyatt closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him even though she tried to fight him, "I am too. I have loved you in a hundred lifetimes, Franny. You are all that matters in this whole world to me."

 Francine forced herself to not be swayed by his words. Breaking this up was the best thing for both of them.

"Wyatt, I'm serious. Friends. That's all we can be," she said as she pulled away. "Now I'm going out for a while. I need some space."  

"I'll be here when you come back and come to your senses."  

Without a word and managing to keep her tears hidden, Francine slipped from the room and out of the apartment.  

Wyatt didn't want to deal with Janice right now so he slipped out the apartment wall and down the steps. He stepped out into the sun though it did nothing to help his mood. He felt his heart breaking apart in his chest and a lonely ache worse than any he'd ever known was eating a hole straight through him.  

His Francine didn't believe that he loved her and he could do nothing to prove he did. He couldn't take her out and show her to the world. He couldn't slip a ring on her finger and marry her in front of all of her friends and family. But he was too selfish to give her up. He wanted her with him. He started down the street, wandering aimlessly just to pass time and walk off his temper and confusion.   

He saw a familiar flash of red hair and a full black velvet skirt turn a corner ahead of him and he took off at a run.  

"Madam Zinga!" he hollered. When he turned to corner she was standing there with a cane in her hand as she tapped her foot impatiently. 	

"Madam Zinga is a very busy woman." she informed him. "What do you want?"  

"I love her," he said.  

Madam Zinga's yellow eyes narrowed as she studied him, "I see you figured things out quite well. You spent the night with little Francine." 	Wyatt didn't agree or disagree with her. He'd been raised a gentleman and a gentleman knew to never kiss and tell, "I need to know if we can have anything close to a normal relationship... Or a family."

"Of course you can not have a family. It would not be fair to Francine or you if you could because the babies would not see or hear you. You would never be able to hold them," Madam Zinga saw the sadness on his face and it irritated her. "Why do you always have to find things to complain about? In every life you are this way. I gave you your soul mate back. I made it so you could be together for eternity once this life of hers is over. What more do you want?"  

Wyatt just shook his head, "Nothing, Madam Zinga," he replied quietly.  

His shoulders were slumped as he turned and walked away from her. She shook her head and walked away with a limp on her cane. In every life Francine and Wyatt found reasons they could not be together before finally giving in to what was destined to be. They could never make things easy.  

---

Janice was gone when Wyatt got back to the apartment and Francine was not back yet either. Wyatt went to the bedroom. He grabbed her robe from the floor and as he was hanging it a box caught his eye. It had momentos written on the side.

He knew he shouldn't read it but he'd always had sticky fingers and a bit of a nosy streak. He grabbed the box, trained his ears so he'd hear anyone coming into the apartment and then sat on the bed and took off the lid. Mostly it was pictures. There were ticket stubs to different movies that meant nothing to Wyatt. But there was a book in there as well.  

He opened it and realized it was a journal. It was wrong to read her journal so he snapped it shut. Then again it was wrong to be looking in her box too so how much worse could he possibly get? He flipped through the journal, which had obviously been written when she'd been much younger. Mostly it was about school.... Boys.. Friends... Her hot geometry teacher. Wyatt didn't know what geometry was but the teacher sounded like a jerk to him and Wyatt was sure that wasn't just his jealous bone talking.  

Then a page caught his eye. He read over it carefully.  

Things I want in life:

1. A good job where I can write and travel and study history

2. My own place to live where I don't have to depend on anyone else

3. A '67 Chevy Camero

4. A man who loves me for me and believes in what I see and hear

5. For my parents to like the above mentioned man

6. To get married in a haunted house with all of our family and 	  	 	    friends there dressed in black

7. To be a mommy. And I'll be a good mommy too, who takes time for    	    her children. Not one who works all the time and is never home. 


8. To take a family vacation to the most haunted places in the country. 


9. To fill our house with pictures of my husband, our children and our             	    grandchildren.

10. This should have been number 5 or 6 but to have my man let the  	 	      whole world know that he loves me and to show me off proudly on 	     his arm. (yes I want to be arm candy.... Won't Janice get a kick out 	     of that) 

Wyatt closed the journal and felt a tear slip down his cheek. He knew what he had to do. He went to the living room and grabbed the paper and pen and wrote out a note of his own.

---

Francine came back home nearly two hours after she had left and knew that she and Wyatt needed to sit and talk. She loved him and it wasn't fair of her to assume he didn't really love her. She had been mean and harsh with him and he deserved an apology.  

Her emotions were a mess and she blamed it on Gregory and PMS. Yes that had to be the cause for her momentary insanity. She put her purse on the hook and shut and locked the door.  

"Wyatt, are you here? We need to talk."  

Silence met her words and she figured he must have gone out to get some air of his own. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple. Taking a bite of it, she walked back into the living room and reached for her laptop only to stop when she saw the paper on the table and the heavy handwriting that covered it.  

She put her apple down and her hand was shaking as she grabbed the letter and began to read.  

Franny,

I do love you. I love you mor then anything else in the world. You have to no that that is tru. I found a jurnle in your room. I shudnt of red it but I did. I found something in it that made me see how much youd be givin up if you settled on me in this life with the way I am. 

No matter how much I love you I cant give you the things you want. I cant give you a famly. I can’t show you off for the world to see that I love you. I’m not sur what eye candy is but I reckon its something like that. I cant fill your house with picturs of us or of our kids or grandkids becuz to the rest of the world I’m not reel. I cant meet your ma and pa and tell them how much I love there little girl. I cant even marry you in a haunted house for everybody to see.

This is the hardest thing I have ever done and given everything I’ve done in my life that’s sayin something. I’m letting you go Franny. Find a man who treets you like you deserve and can give you all you wanted. Just no that there is a ghost out there that loves you with everything he has, but what he has just isn’t enuff.

I love you, Franny. No more losers ok?

Love allways and forever with all of my hart

Your soldier man

Francine’s tear drops were staining the paper and causing the ink to run by the time she was done reading. She held the note close to her chest and cried hard. She had ruined it. She had ruined the best thing that had ever happened to her. She felt more pain than just a woman losing a man she’d known a week. She felt the pain of a woman who had just lost the man she had loved in a hundred different lifetimes.

Janice found her sobbing on the couch when she came home nearly a half an hour later. 	

"What in the world is wrong with you?" Janice demanded gently as she sat down on the couch and pulled Francine's head against her chest.  

"He's gone, Janice.... I've lost him."  

Janice didn't need to be told who Francine was talking about. Only the loss of one man could tear her best friend up this bad, "Shhh.. .it's okay. I'm sure he'll be back."

 Francine sniffed loudly and shook her head as she sat up and swiped her hand across her tear soaked face, "No he won't. He didn't leave because he was mad at me or angry. He left because he loves me."  

Francine handed Janice the note and Janice instantly recognized Wyatt's handwriting. She read the note and felt tears fill her own eyes, "I'm sorry, Fran. I had a feeling you'd be hurt."  

"I'm not worried about me!" Francine exclaimed. "He's alone again! Can you imagine how miserable he must be?!"  

"He'll be okay. Maybe he'll be back, Francine, just keep hope. You guys are made to be together right?"  

"Yes. Without a doubt. I had a vision while I was out walking. It's weird because it was like the dreams I normally have only I was awake this time. He was there... In all the other lives I've led, he was there. I saw him."  

"He'll be back," Janice promised and hoped she wasn't lying. "You wanna watch a movie or something?"  

"No," Francine said as she grabbed the letter back and stood up. "I'm gonna get some rest." She rubbed her tear swollen eyes.  

"Okay. I love you," Janice said as Francine walked away.  

"Love you too." 		

Janice sighed and leaned back on the couch. If she'd had any doubts that what Francine and Wyatt had was true love, they were gone now. Wyatt had left because he'd been afraid he was holding Francine back and getting in the way of what she wanted.  And Francine was crying now that he was gone. Not because she was mad or hurt or worried about herself but because she was worried about Wyatt being alone and lonely again.  

Janice shook her head as she walked to the kitchen to grab  a beer. No love for her..... This shit looked like it was for the birds.

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen 

Wyatt lay on the grass covered hill and stared up at the late summer sun. The breeze was blowing through the long grasses and the surrounding trees. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could faintly remember what the heat of the sun felt like. He could faintly recall the feel of the wind against his skin.  

But he didn't dare close his eyes because every time he dared to all he could see was Francine. Six long days it had been since he'd seen her. Six long days since he had held her in his arms and felt her body against him. When he closed his eyes he would see her soft lips, her pale skin, her freckles, her wide brown eyes. He would see the crinkles around her nose when she smiled and the way she rolled her eyes whenever anything irritated or annoyed her.  

He would hear her sweet, soft voice telling him she loved him or scolding him over one thing or another. God, how he missed her. Nothing held any meaning for him anymore. Not without Francine.  

After leaving her he had transported himself back to the only other place he knew; Vicksburg. He had tried to fall back into his old routine of terrorizing the tourists and guides but now instead of finding it funny when no one could see him and would run off scared, he just found it depressing. He had liked being seen. He had also liked not being seen by Janice and having her not be afraid of him. He missed their back and forth banter, his written and hers verbal.  

He heard a bus pull up to the visitor center and he quickly rose to his feet. The sound of children talking excitedly came to his ears and the faintest of smiles came to his face. Maybe being around some kids was just what he needed. They'd always been able to make him smile before.  

He walked down the hill and saw the children all lining up beside their yellow bus as one of the guides walked out to meet them. The kids appeared to be around ten years old. Probably another group of fourth or fifth graders. Their excitement was thick in the air and Wyatt knew it was probably because today there were a bunch of men dressed up in uniform. Wyatt had wondered what they were doing since it wasn't the time of year for a reenactment but apparently they were here to entertain the children and give them a view of what soldiers looked like during the war.  

Wyatt followed the children, their teacher, chaperones and guide around the park. When they stepped into the barracks, Wyatt sat down on his bed and watched them as they listened to the guide speak. Wyatt didn't listen to the guides words, instead he focused on the kids. There was one little girl there that made his heart hurt.  

She had dark curls, brown eyes and freckles. She looked so much like Francine had looked when she had first come to his park that he had done a double take when he had first seen her. He craved some form of contact with someone. He stared straight at the little girl as she listened to her teacher and slowly her head turned toward him. Wyatt felt his heart jump and then she continued turning her head and he realized she was just turning to look out the window at a 'soldier' that was walking by.  

Wyatt roared with a mixture of pain, sadness, rage, frustration and loneliness. He grabbed a ceramic lamp off of one of the tables and threw it with all his might. It shattered against the far wall and everyone in the tiny barracks screamed and ran out the door, leaving him alone.  

Wyatt could hear the guide trying to calm the frightened children. He didn't feel any guilt for scaring them all. They needed to stay out of his home. He curled up on the bed and hugged his pillow close, imagining that he could smell the scent of cinnamon spice on the fabric.  

---

Several hours later yet another bus pulled up outside. Wyatt rose from the bed, angered that even more people were going to be here. The reenactment soldiers were pissing him off. How dare those fakes and frauds pretend and act as if they had any idea what being a civil war soldier was like! They hadn’t walked hundreds of miles in the freezing cold with holes in their boots, just to get in a bloody battle and watch their friends fall, knowing they would never get back up. They hadn’t heard the pain filled screams of men as doctors were forced to strap them down and saw off their arms and legs. What did these soft men know about the hardships that had been faced?

The guides pissed him off as they talked about camp life and the history of this land. They only knew what was written in their books. Wyatt was the only one who had been here for the last one hundred and fifty years. He was the only one who knew first hand every single thing that had happened every single day since the battle had ended  

The children pissed him off as well. They didn't care one bit about the lost souls, the blood, the death that had taken place here. They cared about getting a day out of school and that was all. Wyatt strode through the wall and his feet seemed to carry him on their own to the cemetery. He had not been to his stone since he'd come back.   

He stared down at his name written on the faded rock. In his current angry state, the sight of his headstone did not help matters. He wasn't really dead! Dammit, he could see! He could hear! He could talk! His heart could love! His hands could touch! He wasn't dead! He kicked with all his might over and over again until the weather worn stone broke beneath the onslaught of his boots. A man who felt pain and was made of true flesh and bone would have shattered his foot and his leg. He would never have been able to break the stone, but Wyatt wasn't normal.  

He grinned a humorless grin of satisfaction at the sight of the broken stone and then made his way back down to the visitors center.  

"Can you believe they're making us watch a movie?!" he heard an angry child's voice say.  

"It's about to storm," another girl replied as she looked up at the sky. Wyatt looked up and saw that she was right. He hadn't noticed. Rain meant nothing when you couldn't feel it.  

"I know, but Pinnochio? I mean what do they think we are, babies?"  

"It's the only movie they had here because one of the guides has babies."   

"Who would want to watch a movie like this? Like a wooden puppet could ever actually ask a magic fairy to make him a real boy and have his wish be granted....." The children's voices trailed off as they were ushered inside for snacks and a movie, to wait out the upcoming storm.  

Wyatt stood there even as the rain began pouring down and he thought about what they had said. Ask a magic fairy to make him a real man? He didn't know any magic fairies but he did know a witch, or whatever the heck Madam Zinga was. Could she make him real? She had kept him from passing and made him a spirit so it only stood to reason she could make him a real man again.  

Why had he not thought of this before?? He could be with Francine. He could be the man that she needed. The man she had always wanted! He could give her everything that she had ever dreamed of having!  

Feeling the first joy he had felt in six days, Wyatt closed his eyes. He had gotten good at transporting himself from place to place.  

When he opened his eyes again he nearly let out a yell when he realized he was standing in the middle of a crowded city street and before he had time to move a huge passenger bus drove straight through him. Wyatt quickly made his way to the sidewalk and looked around. He laughed when he realized he was in Francine's city and he had appeared right next the Starbucks where he had gotten her coffees and cappuccinos everyday.  

Maybe he wasn't as good at transportation as he thought since he had meant to show up at Madam Zinga's and that was a good forty-five minute walk away. He decided that walking there would be his best bet.  

When he finally made it to the shop, he walked in and the bell chimed his entrance. Madam Zinga was there and she was sitting on the back couch, before a fire despite the hotness of the day. She was wearing a dark orange velvet dress today and she was once again playing with her cup of bones.  

"Why are you here Wyatt?" she asked, her tone was short and clipped and it was easy to tell that she was very angry.

"I need to ask you to do something for me," Wyatt replied as he quickly crossed the floor and sat down on the chair across from her.

 She looked up from the bones on the table and her yellow eyes flashed with temper, "She came to me you know. Asked me to track you down because she was worried about you being alone. I told her I could not, even though I knew you were in Vicksburg. Why would you leave her after I gave her back to you?" 		
"Because I can't give her what she needs when I'm like this... Not when I'm stuck in this useless state you left me in."

 Madam Zinga reached out and slapped him sharply across the face. Wyatt covered his cheek as his eyes widened in shock. He hadn't realized she could touch him and pain was something he hadn't felt in a long long time.  

"You hit me!" he exclaimed.  

"I do worse than that if you keep up with this ungrateful dribble!"  

"She wants things I can't give her like this!" Wyatt explained.  

Madam Zinga waved her hand, "We want all kinds of things that we don't really need. When we get what we need we realize that what we wanted is not really what we needed at all."  

It took Wyatt's brain a moment to catch up with her words and when he understood them he shook his head, "I can't be with her like this. It's not fair..."  

"Not fair to who? Not fair to you because you can't pound your chest and scare other men away? You are just as foolish in this life as you were in all the others."  

"Then you should be used to it by now," Wyatt offered with a grin. 		 Madam Zinga was in no mood for his antics. She was angry. Angrier than she could ever remember being. How dare they question her and her wisdom. She would show this Wyatt the strength of her powers and then he would regret ever questioning her.  

"So what is it you are wanting, Wyatt? For me to kill Francine so you can be the same?"  

Wyatt's eyes widened with horror and he jumped to his feet, "What??? No!! I want you to make me real. Make me alive again, here in this time with her. Surely if you can make me a spirit you can make me alive again now."  

Madam Zinga went back to her bones as she scooped them back into her cup. She was silent for a long time and Wyatt felt panic stirring within him. What if she said no? What if she said it couldn't be done? What would he do then? Go back to Vicksburg?  He shook his head. He would not let himself believe that what he wanted was impossible.  

"Madam Zinga can do this but Madam Zinga is not happy. You are going to have to pay a dear price for your doubts and ungratefulness."  

"I'll pay any price, Madam Zinga! Just name it and it's yours!" Wyatt exclaimed.

 She hefted her large frame from the couch and stuck her crooked finger in his nose, "What I want is no form of payment you can hand to me," she informed him.  

Wyatt frowned, "Then what?"   

"If you choose to be with Francine in this form; the form I gave to you, the form I risked myself to let you have, then you can be together for this whole life and then when her life ends you will both go off to the hereafter to spend eternity together. But if you continue with this selfish foolishness then I will be forced to cut your life together short."  

"What do you mean cut it short?"  

"Tragedy will end your life together in this life and you will be separated for many years until you both join in the hereafter. The choice is yours."  

Wyatt sat down hard on the couch. His mind raced. If he became real for Francine, he would die before they grew old. He wasn't afraid of dying. After all he had done it once before, "How long will we have?" Wyatt asked.  

Madam Zinga walked over to the fire and began to stir the ashes with the long iron poker, "That is not for Madam Zinga to tell you."  

"Why the hell not?" Wyatt demanded.  

Madam Zinga swung the poker around and jabbed it straight toward Wyatt's heart. Thankfully it passed through Wyatt and he glared up at the angry woman, "I will not do you any more favors than what I have just offered. If that is not good enough for you then you can....."  

"No, wait..." Wyatt pleaded as he stood up and held his hands out in an offering of peace. "I'll do it."  

He could give Francine everything she wanted. He could meet her parents, he could take her out and show her off, he could marry her in whatever house she wanted and hopefully there would even be time for them to become parents before Madam Zinga made good on her promise.  

"You want to sacrifice so much time?" Madam Zinga asked with disbelief.  

"I would die to give her what she wants," he vowed and he saw Madam Zinga's gaze flicker though he did not know why.  "I've been worse than dead for a long time. Whatever time I have alive and flesh and blood with her will be well worth the sacrifice. And you said yourself that as long as we are together in this life, we'll have eternity together in the hereafter."  

"Fine," Madam Zinga said sharply as she hung the poker back on its stand. "Madam Zinga will do this for you though I have a feeling you will live to regret it."  

"Actually, according to you, I won't," Wyatt replied, trying to force humor into his voice. Again Madam Zinga's yellow eyes flickered and Wyatt frowned, "What's wrong?"  

"Nothing," she said, waving him off. "Madam Zinga is angry at you and little Francine's foolishness. Your selfishness!"  

"I'll..."  

"Stop speaking. Go through that door to the back room and I will be in there momentarily."  

Wyatt quickly did as he was told. He could hardly contain his excitement. He was going to be a living, breathing man again and he would be with Francine and what time they had together would be perfect.

 He would make sure of that and he would make sure that when he did die, she would always know how much he had really and truly loved her. Not just because she was the only woman who could see, hear and touch him but because she was the only woman he wanted to see, hear and touch. She was everything to him and there would be no room in her mind for doubts once he was done giving her everything he had to give.  

Wyatt looked around the back room and felt a shiver run down his spine. This woman was freaky. Skulls, candles, crucifixes... she had it all. There was even a large stone table with straps in the center of the room. He hoped he wouldn't have to lay down on that.  

"Lay down on that table," Madam Zinga ordered as she bustled into the room with a sweep of her velvet skirts.

 Wyatt grumbled under his breath but did as he was told, "Anything for Franny."

 Madam Zinga merely offered a grunt in reply as she went about lighting the hundreds of white candles around the tiny stone walled room. She lit some bowls of sticks that smelled like witch hazel and jasmine and made Wyatt's nose burn. He watched her nervously as she walked toward him with a long silver knife in her hand.  

"What's that for?" he asked.  

"No speaking. If you want this then you just lie there and shut up and let Madam Zinga work."  

"Yes ma'am," Wyatt watched her nervously as she stood above him and began to chant. He couldn't hope to know what she was saying and he had to force himself to keep from jumping off the table when she held the knife high above his chest.  

Seconds ticked on into minutes and still she chanted as she stared up at the ceiling. Her voice grew in intensity and then suddenly, without warning, her arms came down and the knife sunk deep into Wyatt's heart. His eyes widened with horror at the pain that coursed through him. He felt his blood pumping from his body and he could hear it dripping on the stone floor. How was this possible? His mind was racing. He looked at Madam Zinga to find that her yellow eyes were locked on his but she offered him no assurances or explanations.  

Her face began to dim and fade as he felt his mind shutting down. Blackness began to engulf him and after one wet, blood filled gasp his eyes slid closed and he knew no more.

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Fifteen

“Wake up, you sleep long enough,” Madam Zinga’s voice broke through Wyatt’s strange dreams.

He had felt so many physical sensations in his dreams. Hot, cold, fatigue, soreness... Things he had not felt since his death. He opened his eyes and sat up with a start. It took him a moment to realize he was still in the same stone room he had laid down in. 	

The first thing he noticed was that he was sweating in his heavy uniform. Sweating? He hadn't sweated since...... He jumped to his feet and looked down at himself. There was no blood, no evidence of the wound that Madam Zinga had inflicted on him.  

"Am I..."  

"Yes, you're alive," Madam Zinga replied, cutting him off. Wyatt nodded and instantly walked over to the tall Victorian mirror in the corner. When he saw his reflection again for the first time in one hundred and fifty years he nearly let out a cry of shock. He had forgotten what he looked like. 	He ran his fingers over his face and Madam Zinga snorted, "Yes, yes you are very handsome," she said. "I gave you what you wanted. In this time your name is still Wyatt Montgomery but you were born in 1983. Your parents are dead of course according to all of your records. You will find an envelope in your pocket. Inside is a drivers license and a birth certificate. You will need those things to start your new life."  

"How long do I have, Madam Zinga? How long will Franny and I have together?"  

"Long enough," she said impatiently. Wyatt's eyes scanned the room and he saw the silver dagger hanging on the wall. Whatever that thing was it had given him life back.  

"Thank you Madam Zinga," he said and just for the hell of it he hugged the old woman tight.  

She patted his back and then pulled away, "Go. Stop wasting what time you have. Find your woman."  

Wyatt nodded and like an excited child he took off running for the door, realizing two seconds too late that he could no longer simply pass through it. His face smacked hard against the unforgiving wood and he was sure that through his daze he heard Madam Zinga laugh but when he looked back at her she was straight faced and shaking her head.  

"I'm afraid you must open doors now like the rest of us," she informed him.  

Wyatt grinned sheepishly, nodded and opened the door before running out as fast as he could. Wyatt was amazed by the warmth of the sun. He didn't even care that he was overheated and sweating as he ran down the streets toward Francine's apartment. He hoped she would be home. It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon according to the man he had asked and Wyatt knew that Francine had said she always liked to leave work early on Fridays.  

It felt so strange to see people and be seen back. The way people kept looking at him confused him at first until he realized the sight he probably made in his full union uniform.  

He was standing at a crosswalk waiting for the signal to change when a man and woman caught his attention and the man cleared his throat, "What are you supposed to be, some kind of Civil War actor?"  

Wyatt fought the urge to tell the man what he thought about those people but right now he was too happy to think negative thoughts, "Yes. I'm actually in a play and I'm in a hurry so I didn't take the time to change."  

"Those weapons look real," the woman added with a sniff.  

"They are," Wyatt replied with a shrug and the woman's eyes widened as she pulled the man away from him and they whispered amongst each other. Wyatt didn't ask what was wrong because at that time the signal changed and he was running again. It felt so good to be seen by everyone. To be able to wave and smile and have some of those be returned.  

He was sure he would take time later to appreciate these things more but right now all he wanted was to get to Francine. He got to her apartment building and took the stairs up to her floor since he really wasn't sure how to take the elevator.  

He took a moment to wipe the sweat from his face and he removed his hat and ran his hand through his damp hair, slicking it back, though a few strands fell back across his brow. Wyatt cleared his throat and then knocked on the door, enjoying the roughness of the wood against his knuckles. Though he'd been able to touch things before he had never actually felt them. Everything he touched and felt now was giving him sensations he hadn't felt in nearly one and a half centuries.  

He knocked again and he heard Janice's impatient voice come from inside, "I'm coming! I'm coming! Hold your damn horses."  

Wyatt frowned. He didn't have any horses to hold. She opened the door and Wyatt tilted his head and his frowned deepened when her eyes widened and her jaw dropped to the floor.  

"Who in the hell are you?" she demanded as her eyes scanned him up and down.  

Wyatt grinned, "Your brother from another life."	

 Janice's blue eyes squinted as she stared at his face and then nearly bugged out of her head as she took a step back and covered her mouth with her hand, "Casper?"  

Wyatt nodded and she shook her head. "How.....?"  

"It's a long story," he admitted as he looked past her and into the apartment, "Is Franny home?"  

"Damn, even your voice is sexy. No wonder she wanted to have ghost sex."  

Wyatt felt a blush rise to his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. He had no idea how to reply to a comment like that, "Is Franny home?" he repeated.  

Janice shook her head as she moved aside and let him walk in, "She's at her parents for the weekend, she left this morning," Janice replied. "You are hot," she added.  

Wyatt nodded in agreement as he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back, "I had forgotten how hot this uniform is."  

"That's not exactly what I meant," Janice said dryly. She motioned for Wyatt to sit down on the couch and he did. She glared at him as she flopped down beside him. "Now why don't you explain to me why you broke my best friends heart, what the hell you're doing here and why I can see you." 	Wyatt explained to her what he had read in Francine's journal, he explained his reasons behind leaving and he explained to her what had happened with Madam Zinga, though he left out the part about having limited time. He figured that was something he needed to talk to Francine about before he told anyone else.  

"I'll tell you what, she is going to be happy to see you. She's been a mess all week," Janice said as she propped her feet up on the table.  

Wyatt sighed and laid his head back on the couch as he felt his heart break a little, "I never wanted to hurt her, Janice. I just didn't want her wasting her life on a ghost."  

"She didn't consider it a waste," Janice countered. "Well I'm guessing you want to go to her. It's a three and a half hour drive and you need some different clothes so we better head out."  

"I don't have any money," Wyatt said. "Other than this."  

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of confederate money he had stolen during the war off of dead confederate soldiers. He had thought at the time that it would be something interesting to take home and show to his family once the war was over and then after he died it was just one of the many things that no matter how many times he got rid of it, it was always back when he woke up.  

"I think you and I need to go to the pawn shop, Wyatt. We need to go to that fancy one on fifth. You might be surprised how much all of your stuff is worth."   

She got him a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that one of her 'friends' had once left at the apartment. The pants were a little too short and the t-shirt was far too small across the shoulders so he had kept his white shirt on instead.  

"That should be illegal," Janice said as she packed all of Wyatt's weapons, belongings and uniform into a large bag.  

"What should?"

"Having shoulders that broad," Janice replied as she eyed him and shook her head.  

Wyatt grinned, "Having broad shoulders was not a good thing back in the war. They always chose me to be on the teams pushing the cannons and heavy equipment up the hills and mountains."

"But you must have had fun at the brothels," Janice replied as she handed him the big bag full of things and he slid the strap over his shoulder.  

"My mama would have tanned my hide if I'd a gone to places like that," he denied.  

 Janice laughed, "Well let's get going. Do you want to use my cell phone to call Francine and tell her that you're coming?" she asked as she led Wyatt out of the apartment and toward the elevator.  

Wyatt shook his head, "I'd rather just surprise her in person."  

Janice nodded as they waited on the elevator door to open, "You do know this means you'll be meeting her parents don't you?"  

"That was on her list. Think they'll like me?"  

"You do realize she wrote that list like ten years ago?"  

"And you do realize that she's going to have every single thing she wants even if it's the last thing I do, don't you?"  

"I'm going to go to a séance once I get you to Francine," Janice said with a sigh as the elevator doors opened with a ding.  

"Why?" Wyatt asked as they stepped in and the doors closed. He worked hard to hide his nervousness at being in this moving coffin. He'd have rather taken the stairs.  

"Because I need a Casper of my own."  

---

“Eighteen thousand dollars……” Wyatt said as they got back in Janice’s bronco. His mind was still reeling. That was more money than he had ever heard of being in one place.

"It's not as much as it sounds like in this day and time, Casper," Janice said with a light laugh as she brought the old Bronco to life. "Now that you have some money it's time to get you some clothes that fit you right."  

Wyatt could hardly contain his nerves. He wanted to get started on the trip to south eastern Kentucky and his Francine but Janice insisted that he couldn't show up for a weekend at Francine's parents house without any clothes or belongings.  

They walked into the mall and Wyatt stared in awe at all the different stores. Janice walked on ahead and didn't realize that she had lost Wyatt. She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see him there but he wasn't. She turned quickly and saw him staring into a salon. She walked back to him and followed his gaze. She laughed out loud when she realized he was watching a man getting a manicure.  

"Men do that now?" he asked as he looked down at his own calloused and work roughened hands.  

"No, not real men... Only the Gregory's of the world," Janice said as she patted him on the shoulder. "God you are rock hard aren't you?"  

Wyatt frowned and stepped away from her, "I belong to Franny," he reminded her.

 Janice sighed wistfully, "I know.... Hence the reason I am holding a séance tonight."  

Wyatt just shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. Janice moaned as if in pain, "Francine is such a lucky little tramp. You have perfect bad boy rock star hair. Look at the way it falls across your forehead and the back of it just barely falls below the collar of your shirt, making you look just a little wild and unkempt."  

"Why don't we just find some clothes so I can go find Franny?"

 Janice pursed her lips together and pointed her finger up at his face, "You are not nice."  

"I'm your brother remember?"  

"Thought no sister of yours would have worked in a brothel?"  

"You were always the black sheep of the family."  

---

After walking through several stores without finding anything that interested him, Wyatt caught sight of a country/western attire store that seemed much more his style.  

Janice flipped her hair, "You go, country boy. I'll meet you in thirty minutes out by that giant brass hippo that for some God awful reason children like to climb on." 	

Wyatt remembered the hippo that had been at the entrance to the mall and nodded. It didn't take long for him to find five pairs of pants and five thin flannel patterned shirts that fit him. He couldn't believe how nice it felt to wear something other than that damn uniform and fabrics sure had come a long way toward being more comfortable in the last one hundred and fifty years.  

He couldn't help but notice that the sales clerk, a blond in a short gray skirt and blue blouse that showed off her very noticeable assets, seemed very happy about measuring him and finding his size.  

She had even slipped him a paper with her phone number on it which he had politely declined with a tip of his brand new Stetson hat. He hadn't worn a Stetson since he'd left home back in 1861 and it felt good to have one on again.  

He left the store and hurried toward the giant brass hippo. To him it looked awful dangerous to let kids climb on that eyesore but maybe kids had gotten tougher since his day. He looked around for Janice and then his eyes narrowed when he caught sight of her currently in the middle of a group of four rough looking men. Their pants were hanging off their hips making Wyatt wonder if perhaps they couldn't afford belts. Their white t-shirts were ten sizes too big and they were swaggering around and leering at Janice.  

"I said no, you idiots, now if you don't get out of my way I'll have to scream," Janice said angrily.  

"Come on, sweet cheeks. A woman don't dress like you unless she's wanting some attention," One of the men said as he reached out and ran his hand over Janice's pink and blond hair.  

Janice was angry. She jerked her head away and smacked the man hard across his left cheek. His eyes filled with anger but then all four men seemed to think twice about messing with her and they backed up a little. Janice felt very proud of herself and her self defense skills until she heard a throat clear behind her. She turned to see Wyatt standing there looking every bit like an angry cowboy, ready to take this party outside.  

His blue and white thin flannel patterned shirt was tucked into a pair of Levis that seems to have been made just for him and his long muscular legs. His shirt was unbuttoned up top and she could see the hint of a dusting of dark hair across his broad chest. His sleeves were rolled up on his forearms revealing thick, corded muscle The black stetson hat on his head  created shadows across his sculpted face but his green eyes still shown with an angry glint beneath it. Janice would have swooned if swooning was her thing. Francine was a lucky woman and Janice understood completely why her friend had wanted Wyatt even as a ghost.  

"Is there a problem here?" Wyatt asked. 	

"Yeah there's a problem," the ringleader of the group said with a grunt and then he looked Wyatt up and down, covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. "What the hell you supposed to be, some kind of rodeo clown?"

"I'm not sure what that is," Wyatt replied with a shrug. "What I am sure of is that the way you were speaking to my sister here wasn't the way a man is supposed to talk to a lady."

 The ringleader held up his hands in mock surrender as his buddies laughed, "Oh forgive me! But from where I'm looking your sister don't look much like a lady." Then without warning the ringleader threw a punch at Wyatt.  

Janice wanted to shout out a warning but before she could, Wyatt had crouched down and dodged the mans fist. His leg swung out and caught the man across the ankles bringing him down on the ground, flat on his back. 	Wyatt stood straight and put his brand new boot on the mans throat, "What about from where you're looking now?"

 The other three men acted as if they wanted to run to their friends rescue until Wyatt threw them a look that would have frozen hell and they stepped back.  

"Sorry man.... We didn't mean no harm," the man on the ground gasped.  

Wyatt moved his foot and took Janice by the arm, "Come on little sister," he urged and Janice stuck her tongue out at the four men before hurrying along after him.  

"For future instances like that could you at least pretend to be my jealous boyfriend or something?" she asked once they were outside.  

"No," Wyatt replied as he led her toward the Bronco.  

Janice huffed and shook her head, "Why can't all men be like you?"  

"You mean nearly two-hundred years old and set in his ways, which apparently are out of date and not the way people act anymore?" Wyatt asked with a grin as he opened the driver door of the Bronco for her.  

Janice gave him an odd look as she climbed in and he shut her door. She had never once had a man open a car door for her, unless of course he was hoping to get laid which she knew that Wyatt wasn't.  

 She stuck her head out the open window and nodded, "Yes. Exactly like that."

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

“This is it,” Janice said as they pulled up to the small two story brick home at the end of a long gravel road. It was nearly ten at night and dark.

"I should wait until morning. It's awful late," Wyatt said nervously.  

"Nonsense. The lights are on, they're awake. Francine's parents are cool, you'll be fine. Do you want me to walk you in?"  

"Weren't you planning on staying?" Wyatt asked her.  

Janice shook her head, "I gotta work in the morning, Casper."  

"You can't work! It'll be morning before you get back home."  

Janice winked and patted him on the cheek, "I'll be fine. The brothel got me used to all-nighters," she replied. "So do you want me to walk you in?"  

"No, I'll be fine," he promised. "You're sure they'll let me stay here?"  

"Of course! I wouldn't leave you if I thought they'd throw you out on your ass. Besides Francine's here and you know she'll be happy to see you." 	Wyatt nodded but as he got out of Janice's car his nerves were eating through his stomach. No matter how many times Janice told him that Francine would be happy to see him he couldn't help but wonder if she was right. He had left Francine, he had hurt her, and while his intentions had been good he didn't know if she would really see it that way.  

He grabbed his suitcase full of clothes and then walked up the stone walkway and heard Janice pull away. Wyatt wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. He shifted his feet nervously as he waited for the door to open. When the door did open he found himself looking at an older male version of Francine.  

"Can I help you?" the man asked as he watched Janice's Bronco disappear around a curve.   

Wyatt pulled off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, "Hello sir, My name's Wyatt Montgomery," Wyatt greeted as he held out his hand.  

"Jackson Ryan," the man replied as he shook Wyatt's hand and Wyatt knew this must be Francine's father. "It's awful late Mr. Montgomery."  

"I apologize, sir, and I know this is going to sound a bit odd but I'm actually here to see Franny."  

"Franny?"

"Uh, I mean Francine."  

"Our Francine has a caller?" a feminine voice said from inside and then a middle aged petite brunette pushed her way past Jackson. "Wow, aren't you a tall drink of water?" she asked as he eyes scanned him up and down.  

Wyatt cleared his throat awkwardly and couldn't help but think about how much women had changed in the last one hundred and fifty years, "Is Francine here?" he asked even though he knew her car was sitting out in the driveway.  

"She's sleeping," the woman replied. "My name is Gretchen. I know the name is dreadful but by the time I got old enough to change it, I suppose it had grown on me. Why don't you come on in cowboy and take a load off those boots. Is 

Franny expecting you?“ she asked, her dark eyes crinkling around the sides when she smiled.

Wyatt smiled at this woman's warmth and kindness. She was a little on the odd and excitable side but after getting to know Janice he was used to things like that, "Thank you, ma'am." Wyatt said as he walked in and Francine's parents led him to the long floral couch in the wood paneled living room. There were deer heads and family pictures hanging from the wall and a small fire burning in the stone fireplace. Wyatt shook his head as he turned back to face the couple,  "Francine won't be expecting me, no."  

 He waited for her father to tell him to get the hell out of his house but instead the man walked into the kitchen and came out a moment later with two beers. At the sight of the drink Wyatt felt an uncomfortable pain down in his stomach and then a growling sound filled the air.  

"Are you hungry, handsome? You should have said something! I'll bet you that Janice didn't bother to get you nothing to eat all the way down here. I've got some meat loaf and potatoes in the fridge, I'll just heat those up for you," Gretchen said as she patted him on the shoulder and walked to the kitchen.  

Jackson handed him one of the beers and Wyatt smiled, "Thank you, sir." he said as he popped the top and took a long swallow. This was the first thing he had had to drink in one hundred and fifty years and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head as the sensations and tastes washed over his tongue and down his throat.  

"You sure do seem to like that beer, son. My Francine's new man isn't an alcoholic is he?"  

Wyatt quickly wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and shook his head, "No sir. Actually it's been a really, really long time since I've drunk a drop. I was just a bit thirsty is all."  

Jackson nodded and sat down in a green recliner chair, "Have a seat, Wyatt," he said motioning toward the couch.  

Wyatt sat down and put his hat back on his head, "Thank you sir. I know it wasn't proper to show up so late but..."  

"We don't go much for proper around here. Any friend of Francine's is welcome to stay here anytime. I have to ask though, are you the man who's got her so upset? She wouldn't hardly touch her supper tonight and wouldn't tell her mama and I what was wrong."  

"I'm afraid so, sir," Wyatt said, looking down at his boots and feeling his heart hurt at knowing he'd caused Francine pain. "I thought that leaving her was what was best at the time but some things have changed and I don't feel the same anymore."  

"You aren't married are you?" Jackson asked as he sat back and crossed his legs.  

Wyatt shook his head, "No sir." he replied and barely kept himself from adding, 

‘not yet’ .

Jackson nodded, "Well I'm sure my baby girl will be happy to see you and you sure seem a hell of a lot better than that Gregory fella. He never did come out to meet Gretchen and I."  

"Thank you, sir. I love your daughter." Wyatt was from a time when a man made his intentions known from the start. He didn't play games with a girls heart or try to mislead her family.  

Jackson smiled at Wyatt's honesty and held up his beer bottle, "I'll drink to that. You seem like a nice guy."

"And handsome too," Gretchen replied as she came back in to the living room with a plate full of meatloaf and mashed potatoes.  

Wyatt had never had meatloaf before but it smelled delicious. He thanked Gretchen for the food and then dug in, taking part in conversation between bites.  

He was surprised by the warmth and friendliness of Francine's family. They didn't know him, they only knew that Janice had dropped him off here late at night and he said he was here for Francine and yet here he was sitting  in their living room eating his first meal in one and a half centuries and laughing and talking with these people.  

Wyatt had to admit it felt good to be back in the land of the living. He'd always been easy going with new people which had made making friends fairly easy and Francine's family seemed so warm and down to earth that Wyatt felt as if he'd known them for years instead of mere minutes.  

"Well I'd say you're just about wore out aren't ya? You can sleep here on the couch if you want to, sorry we don't have any other spare rooms." 	Wyatt smiled at Gretchen, "The couch will be just fine, ma'am."  

"My aren't you such a handsome gentleman. Francine sure did better at picking her man out this time," she mused with her hand over her heart. Gretchen tossed him a throw pillow and an afghan. "I have to ask, are you the man that was with Francine when I called last week to invite her to our dinner tomorrow?"  

Wyatt nodded, "Yes, ma'am, I was."  

She smiled brightly, "He's like a true cowboy, Jack. He calls me ma'am and you sir. I didn't know they made men like that anymore!" She clapped excitedly and then walked away up the stairs.  

Wyatt fought back a laugh. He wasn't sure they did make men like him anymore seeing as how he'd been made a long long time ago.  

"Gretchen is a unique soul," Jackson said as he watched his wife walk away. "So is Francine."  

"I agree," Wyatt said as he stood and Jackson stood as well.  

"Well I'll get on up to bed but before I do I need to talk to you about some boundaries."  

"Boundaries, sir?"  

"Yes. Now I was a hippie and lived back in the free love era. I'm hip enough to know that premarital sex is still the in thing and hormones are hard to deny but I feel I should warn you that under my roof you gotta keep a lock on them hormones. Kissing, and hand holding are okay during daylight hours but hands off the rest of the time. No taking Francine to the rodeo while you're here. Got it, cowboy?"  

Wyatt didn't really get it. He didn't have a single clue on God's green earth what the hell Jackson was talking about. He did however understand the general message. No sex. That was fine with him. He didn't plan on making love to Francine again until the woman was his wife.  

"I got it, sir," Wyatt replied with a nod.

 Jackson smiled broadly, and the smile reminded him of Francine and made his heart hurt. He wanted to speak to her and see her but it would have to wait until morning. He didn't want to do anything to go against these warm and kind peoples wishes.  

"Goodnight then, kid. The bathroom is through the kitchen, first door on the left." Jackson said and then he walked up the stairs.  

Wyatt looked down at the couch and knew he wasn't going to fit on that comfortably but he'd sleep just about anywhere as long as it led to him seeing Francine. Suddenly an urge came over him and it took him a moment to realize what it was  and he'd be damned if he wasn't excited when he took off to the bathroom to relieve himself which was something he hadn't done in a century and a half and never inside a house!  

---

Francine snuggled deeper under the covers, breathing in the familiar scent of the lavender laundry detergent that her mother had been using for as long as she could remember. She could hear her father's chickens already waking up for the day and she moaned and pulled the covers over her head to keep the sunlight off her face.  

She hated mornings even more now than she always had. Mornings made her think of Wyatt. Who was she kidding? Every single second of the day she thought about Wyatt. Where was he? Was he okay? She couldn't stand the thought of him being alone and lonely out there by himself. She took a deep breath to fight off the tears she felt welling up and the scent of coffee reached her nostrils.  

This of course caused the tears she had been holding back to break free. Wyatt had always brought her coffee or cappuccino every morning. She was sobbing beneath the covers when suddenly the blanket was jerked off of her and she found herself staring up at a very concerned Wyatt.  

"Don't cry, Franny," he pleaded as he sat the steaming cup of coffee he was holding on the bedside table and climbed up on the bed. He pulled her into his arms and Francine threw her arms around his neck in a state of shock.  

"Wyatt? What... Why... How did you get here?" she gasped as she nuzzled her face against his warm neck.  

Wyatt's arms tightened around her willowy frame. Had it really only been a week since he'd held her because it felt like it had been so much longer. He breathed in her cinnamon scent and knew that he could never be apart from her again. 	

"It's a long story, Franny," he said as he pulled away and used his thumb to dry to her tear stained cheeks. He pushed back her wild curls and kissed her gently, "I'm sorry I left you. I did what was best at the time but things have...."  

"Just hush. I've been so worried about you. I'm sorry I doubted how much you loved me, Wyatt. That wasn't fair and I never wanted to hurt you," Francine said with a half smile.  

"I understand why you felt that way, Franny but there's something you should know....."  

"You can tell me later," she said, flashing a coy smile.  

Francine didn't know what he was doing here. She wasn't sure where he had gotten his new clothes or how he was wearing them (she did know they were incredibly sexy), she didn't know how he had gotten her mother's favorite coffee cup and filled it with coffee without scaring her parents to death in the kitchen but none of that mattered right now. Right now she just wanted him.  

She stood up and his hungry green eyes followed her motions. She walked over to the door and pushed it closed before turning the lock. 	Wyatt's eyes widened when she turned back around to face him and began to wiggle her red satin gown up her hips. He jumped to his feet and moved across the room to the window and away from her.  

"We really should talk about some things." he insisted, though he wasn't sure how he spoke when the collar of his shirt seemed to be growing tighter with every second.  

Francine shook her head, "I don't want to talk right now, Wyatt. I have missed you so much," she replied as she crossed the room to him. 	Wyatt was helpless to resist her as she put her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. He breathed her in as he tasted her sweetness. He gripped her backside and pulled her into him.  

Francine found it impossible to think as he took control of the kiss and led her toward the bed. All she knew was that her man had come back and he was looking absolutely sinful in his jeans and flannel. He looked like a true cowboy and she had always loved watching the rodeo on TV. Not because she gave a crap about who could stay on the bull the longest but because she'd loved to watch those cowboys walk around in those tight levis.

"I love you, Franny. I've missed you," Wyatt whispered against her ear as he laid her down on the bed. He covered her body with his own but when her hand trailed down his stomach and to the top of his pants he jerked away from her and practically ran across the room.  

"What is wrong with you?" Francine demanded with frustration and confusion.  

Wyatt shoved his hand through his dark hair and looked more confused than she felt, "There's hippies and free love but I gotta keep my hands off cause I can't take you to the rodeo and unlock my hormones," he offered in explanation.  

Francine stared at him as if he was speaking a foreign language and he wondered if he'd said that all wrong, "What in the hell are you talking about?" she asked with a laugh. Before Wyatt could reply Francine heard her dad calling her name from downstairs, "Let me go see what he wants and then you and I are going to finish what we started here."  

"What we need to do is talk. There are some pretty important things you need to know," Wyatt countered.  

"Talking is overrated," Francine said with a smile as she pressed a feather light kiss to his lips which caused a jolt of electricity to course through him. She grabbed her robe off the hook on the door, slipped it on and left the room.

"Franny, there's something I really should tell you...." Wyatt said as he followed after her.  

"Shh! Don't talk to me in front of mom and dad or else they'll think I've gone crazy if I answer you."  

"But that's..."  

"Be quiet, soldier boy," Francine scolded as she grabbed his hand, gave it a squeeze and then let go and ran down the stairs two at a time. Wyatt let out a sigh and followed her.  

"Good morning mom and dad!" Francine greeted brightly as she entered the kitchen.  

"You look happy this morning," Gretchen noted with a knowing smile. "You're practically bouncing."  

"I am happy," Francine replied as she caught the apple her father tossed at her.  

"Your mom is making her famous chocolate chip waffles for breakfast," he said with a happy sigh. "There are several very good reasons why I married this woman but that is the most important."

"Chocolate for breakfast," Francine mused with a laugh as she hunted all through her mothers disorganized kitchen for a knife. "Gotta love having such a health conscious mother."  

"Hey I heard a study on the news just the other day that chocolate can cut your risk of heart disease by one third. I do this because I love you all," Gretchen replied as she began gathering all her ingredients and a large bowl and whisk. Francine still couldn't find a knife, she pushed herself up to sit on the counter and was about to just bite into the apple when Wyatt took it from her.  

He pulled a large pocket knife from his pants and walked over to the garbage can. Francine threw a nervous glance at her parents but they weren't looking in his direction and she hoped they wouldn't. How would she explain floating apples?  

"So who all is coming to dinner tonight?" Francine asked.  

Jackson didn't look up from the magazine he was reading about deer hunting, "The family. Some of our friends."  

"Happy Anniversary mom and dad. How long have you been together now? A century?" Francine asked as she jumped down from the counter and kissed their cheeks.  

"Ha.Ha. It's only been forty years and it feels like it's been half that time. Your mom is my best friend, and she hits me in the head often enough that I have a constant state of amnesia and can't remember how terrible life has been."   

Francine laughed as her mom smacked her dad on the back of the head. Her humor was short lived when Wyatt walked up to her and handed her the peeled and sliced apple in a bowl. How in the world was Francine going to explain where she had gotten it from?  

"Relax, love," Wyatt whispered with a  smile as he kissed her cheek. 	Francine leaned into him and then he walked away and went to the sink. Francine's eyes widened when he turned on the water and rinsed off his knife. Her gaze flew to her parents to see if they were freaking out yet but neither of them seemed to be paying any attention to the floating apples, magically appearing bowls or automatic sinks. Francine was confused. Her parents should be scared to death but they acted as if they didn't even notice anything was out of the ordinary.  

"So, 

Franny , were you happy to see your friend this morning?“ Gretchen asked as she stirred up the waffle batter and Jackson put his magazine down long enough to open the chocolate chip bag and pour them in. “Not that many, you pain in my ass,” Gretchen scolded as she swatted his hand with the whisk, which sent batter splattering across her own face. Jackson laughed as he kissed away the splotches, “Chocolate is good for heart disease remember? I’m thinking of your health, my dear,” he assured her.

Francine was still stuck on her mothers first question to her, "What friend?" she asked cautiously.  

"The devilishly handsome one that slept on the couch, brought you coffee, cut up your apple and is currently looking at you with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. Wyatt, please close that knife and put it away before you cut yourself," Gretchen said in a very motherly way.  

Francine's head was spinning. They could see Wyatt? How?  

"She looks confused," Jackson said with a smile. "Probably because he's more than just a friend. Wyatt, you remembered our talk from last night?" he questioned, his eyes narrowing slightly but his grin getting bigger.  

"Yes sir," Wyatt replied with a big nod. "There were no free love hippies or uncaged hormones going to the rodeo."  

Jackson and Gretchen shared a look and then burst out laughing, "Close enough," Jackson said as he settled back down with his magazine.  

"Can you two excuse us for a minute?" Wyatt asked as he stuck his knife in his pocket. Gretchen and Jackson nodded and Wyatt grabbed Francine gently by the hand. He pulled her out the back door and onto the porch which overlooked a steep mountain drop off and green lush mountains in the distance.  

"What in the hell is going on?" Francine asked.  

Wyatt noticed that she looked pale and her eyes were wide with shock, "I tried to tell you upstairs and you wouldn't let me. When I left you I went back to Vicksburg but I was miserable. Then one day I heard something and it got me wondering if maybe Madam Zinga could give me life back and make me a real man. Turns out she could, Franny. I'm real. Flesh and blood again just like you. Now I can give you all the things that you wanted."  

"So my parents....."  

"Can see me. Janice brought me here last night but you were already asleep. I think I already have one of those things on your list took care of. Your parents like me, though I'm still not sure what a hippie, free love, rodeo hormone is."  

Francine found herself laughing despite the way her head was spinning, "This is a lot to take in," she said as she rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "So, you're alive now?"  

"Yes," Wyatt said happily as he ran his knuckle down her cheek. "Madam Zinga gave me my life back and then I went to your apartment but you were gone. So Janice helped me sell my stuff and get some money and I bought some new clothes and then she brought me down here. She didn't think that showing up dressed like a soldier would have won your parents over."  

"Actually my dad probably would have thought it was cool. If you haven't noticed my parents aren't exactly what most people see as normal." 	Wyatt smiled and kissed her cheek, "If they were normal and boring that would make it really strange that they have a ghost hunting daughter, wouldn't it?"  

"So just like that Madam Zinga gave you life? No questions asked and no strings attached?" Francine asked in awe. She had never been happier in her life than she was right now. She and Wyatt could be together and they could have a normal life. They could get married and have children and grow old together.  

Wyatt felt guilt wash over him as he looked at her. He knew he should tell her the truth but she looked so happy and the truth would only make her sad and cause her to worry. There was no changing what would happen in the future and he didn't want his and Francine's time together to be overshadowed by her fear of his death.

"That's right. I think she was surprised I didn't ask sooner," he lied. 	Francine smiled and let out a little yelp of excitement before throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest, "I love you so much, Wyatt!" she exclaimed.  

He felt his heart swell and held her as tight as he could. He kissed her flyaway curls and rested his cheek on the top of her head, "I love you too, Franny."

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

"

Those people should be here soon with the chairs and tables,“ Jackson said after everyone had eaten breakfast.

 It had been Wyatt's first time eating chocolate and Francine hadn't been able to keep from smiling when his eyes had rolled back in his head and then he had gone on and on about how good it was. She was sure her mothers head would explode with pride.  

"I still don't understand why you're having this here when you could go to a restaurant and have them cook and clean for you," Francine said to her mom.  

Gretchen just waved her off, "And miss out on Wyatt carrying on about how good my food is?" she asked. Wyatt grinned.  

"Apparently Wyatt's been dead a while and forgot what real food is if he thinks the junk you cook is good," A man said as he walked in. The man was about five feet ten inches tall. He had flaming red hair, blue eyes and dark freckles covering his full cheeks and big nose. When he smiled, his teeth reminded Wyatt of a beaver.  

"That's the love of my life you are insulting, Chase!" Jackson said with mock anger as he stood up from his chair, "I'll have you know that at the end of a long hard day the only thing better than Gretchen's cooking is a root canal."  

Francine and Chase both laughed while Gretchen swatted her husband with a damp dishtowel, "Get to town and get the stuff I needed before I decide to make this our last anniversary."  

"Promises. Promises." Jackson mused and then before Gretchen could say anything else he pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips.  

Wyatt put his arm around Francine's shoulders and she leaned into him.  

"What the hell makes you think you can touch my woman?" Chase demanded from beside them.  

Wyatt turned slowly and Francine saw the angry set to his jaw and knew that he was about to kill her stupid younger cousin, "Wyatt, this is Chase, my cousin. Chase this is Wyatt, my boyfriend, and the man who will kick your ass if you're mean to me."  

"You'll kick my ass, huh?" Chase asked with a lopsided grin.  

Wyatt nodded as he looked down at the shorter, but stout man, "If she tells me to."  

Chase laughed, "I see you've got this one wrapped around your finger," he said as he tweaked Francine on the nose.  

Francine jerked away with a smile and stuck her tongue out, "You're still so immature. I haven't got anybody wrapped around my finger."

"Yes you do." Wyatt replied as his arm tightened around her.  

Francine blushed at the teasing look on Chase's face but before he could say anything Jackson walked over, "Come on men, you can help me brave the world for Wal-mart and Food World so we can get this woman all she needs for cooking."  

Francine threw Wyatt a panicked look and he smiled and put his mouth to her ear, "I'll be fine," he promised.

"You boys have fun," Gretchen said as the men walked toward the kitchen door. "Don't pick up any hot prostitutes. The ugly ones are fine but don't bring no pretty ones back here."  

Wyatt scratched at his hair, "I thought that was illegal." Francine laughed as she started filling the sink with water.

 "Only if you get caught." Chase said with a wink.

 Francine watched poor Wyatt walk out of the house. She just hoped he got through the shopping trip without her family embarrassing him too badly. After all Wyatt was still pretty new to life in the twenty-first century.  

---

"So, Wyatt, Francine don't have any brothers to test whether or not you deserve her so that falls on my shoulders," Chase said once the men were loaded into Jackson's SUV and headed for town. Wyatt sat in the middle row of seats while Chase and Jackson rode up front.  

"Okay," Wyatt said as he adjusted the seat belt strap across his chest. He was obviously bigger than whoever this had been designed for and it cut across his chest and irritated the hell out of him.  

"She's a good girl," Chase noted, sounding quite comfortable in this protective position.  

 Wyatt nodded, "She's one hell of a woman," he agreed.  

Chase nodded and looked over his shoulder at Wyatt, "What do you do for a living?"  

Wyatt had to think quick to come up with an answer that wouldn't be a complete lie, "Nothing at the moment. I've actually only been living in Kentucky for about two weeks. I grew up in Kansas and worked on some ranches out there. I'm hoping to find something like that to do again."  

"There's plenty of horse ranches around Lexington, I'm sure that won't be a problem." Jackson assured him as he turned off the gravel road and onto the two lane blacktop.  

"So whatcha been doing? Shacking up with Francine and living off her money?" Chase demanded and this earned him a sharp look from Jackson.  

"My little sister raised you better than that, boy." he scolded.  

"That's okay sir. I.... I'm sure if I had sisters or cousins I'd be the same way." Wyatt replied. He had nearly told him that he had four little sister which would have technically been a lie since any sisters he might have had were long dead. "I've actually been staying in the apartment next to Franny's. I have some money leftover from selling some belongings and I've been living off of that until I can find a job."  

"You don't have to explain yourself, Wyatt. You're a grown man and my Francine is a grown woman who supports herself just fine. As long as you make her happy that's all I care about and it seems like you do that very well. Francine has always had bad taste in men but it seems like she might have turned that around with you."  

"Thank  you, sir," Wyatt replied.  

"Hear that Chase? He calls me sir. That's respect," Jackson stated pointedly as he poked Chase in the arm with his elbow.  

"That's called kissing your ass," Chase countered and Jackson laughed.  

---

Wyatt, Jackson and Chase chose to split up at Wal-mart to save time. Wyatt stayed with Jackson and Chase went off on his own. Wyatt reached in his pocket and ran his fingers over the ring that he had hidden inside. He had bought the diamond yesterday at the pawn shop. It was a large circle cut diamond in a thick steel setting. He knew that gold was the norm for engagement and wedding rings but he had seen this ring and thought of Francine. It was old and it looked like something from a witches jewelry box, aged and almost creepy. Still it had a beauty to it that he knew Francine would love. His Franny wanted a wedding in a haunted house and she was going to get a ring that matched.  

"Mr. Ryan, I would like to ask you something," Wyatt said as he followed the man through the aisles of the crowded store. More than once Wyatt bumped into things as he forgot he couldn't just pass through them but luckily Jackson was too focused on the list in his hand to notice.  

"Call me Jackson," he replied as he grabbed a box of paper plates and tossed them in the cart, "These damn things get more expensive every time I'm here. What were you wanting to ask?"  

"I uh.. I know this isn't the place to do this but....."  

"Wal-mart is where all the important things happen," Jackson cut in with a wink. "Now what's on your mind?"  

"I know that you don't know me yet and I know that Franny and I haven't been together very long but, sir, I'm in love with your daughter. I feel like I have known her my whole life and in many lives before....."  

"Are you asking me if you can marry Francine?" Jackson asked as he looked away from his list and his eyes locked with Wyatt's.  

Wyatt shifted his feet nervously but nodded, "Yes, sir."  

Jackson smiled happily, "She's twenty-five years old, you don't have to ask my permission."  

"Where I'm from, sir, we always ask permission."

 Jackson nodded, "Permission granted. I'm not the one marrying you so I don't need to know everything about you and if Francine loves you enough to say yes then that's all that matters. Hell I only knew Gretchen three days before we got married in Vegas. Now look at us."  

Wyatt just nodded as he felt relief take the tension from his shoulders, "Thank you, sir," he said as he ran a hand through his thick hair.  

Janice had told him that nowadays men didn't wear Stetson hats everywhere they went so in an attempt to fit in he'd left it behind. He saw a woman with a baby in her cart and two more children attached to each leg staring at him. Her eyes were scanning him up and down and her mouth was hanging open. Wyatt quickly looked away from her and tried to ignore her the best he could.  

"Seems you've got a fan," Jackson said with a chuckle. Wyatt just shrugged as he felt a blush working its way up his neck, "Here why don't you grab us a couple boxes of that water." Jackson said, pointing to the ones he wanted.  

Wyatt nodded, happy to have something to do and the woman finally walked off as her baby started screaming in the cart.  

It took the men nearly two hours to finish all of the shopping and once they were on their way home, Wyatt sat silently in the backseat trying to think of what he should say when he proposed to Francine. He knew he might be moving fast but he also knew he was living on borrowed time and he needed to make the most out of every second that he had.  

Jackson and Chase got into a loud argument up front about something called Nascar and the drivers Kyle Busch and Dale Jr. Wyatt didn't have a clue what they were talking about. He looked out the windshield and was once again going over what he would say when suddenly they rounded a curve and a large eighteen wheeled truck was coming around at the same time and in their lane.  

Jackson let out a curse as he drove the SUV down into the ditch. Brakes slammed, tires squealed and Wyatt prayed like hell that Madam Zinga wasn't cashing in that deal already.  

---

Francine grunted and sweated as she tried to set up the tables the way her flake of a mother wanted them. Every time they got them set up just right, Gretchen would change her mind and they'd all have to be moved around. Francine was about two seconds away from telling her mother to shove the tables up her rear when she felt two strong arms snake around her waist from behind and two firm lips pressed against her ear.  

"You look tired. Would you like me to take over?"  

Francine smiled and leaned into Wyatt's embrace, "I missed you." she whispered.  

 Wyatt's lips curved into a smile against her ear, "I missed you too."  

"We're back, my love. we almost died but we are back." Jackson announced as he walked into the side yard.  

Gretchen's eyes widened, "What do you mean you almost died?"  

"A coal truck ran us off the road and just about ran us over. But as you can see we're fine," Jackson bowed and winked at his wife.  

"My pants need to be changed but other than that I'm alright," Chase agreed as he too walked around the house.  

"Are you okay?" Francine asked Wyatt quietly so only he could hear. 	Wyatt nodded, "Yep. I still think that horses were better for getting from place to place than automobiles but I gotta get with the times I guess." He had been sure that he was going to die today but Jackson had just chuckled as he drove the SUV back out of the ditch and the coal truck had driven away.  

"Well, now that you big strong men are here, Francine and I will get busy with the cooking while you set up the yard. Just do the tables however you think is best but make sure you keep some distance between them and the dance floor."  

Francine glared at her mother. Hours of moving around tables and not being able to please her and she tells the men to put them however they thought was best????

"She drove you nuts the whole time we were gone didn't she?" Chase asked with a chuckle as he walked over to Francine and Wyatt.  

Francine let out a tired sigh and nodded. Chase tweaked her nose, "Now you get to go cook with her all afternoon. Good luck, Fran."  

"Come on, Francine! We have a lot to do," Gretchen called as she walked in the house.  

Wyatt kissed Francine's cheek and she followed after her mother, "Well come on, cowboy," Chase said as he looked at all the tables and chairs, "Let's see just how hard you can work."  

Wyatt raised his brow and then rolled up his sleeves.  

---

"Maybe I liked it better when nobody other than me could see you," Francine muttered as she sat snuggled in Wyatt's arms on the back porch that evening.  

They were sitting on the porch steps and she had her back pressed against his chest as he held her tight. Her family and her parent's friends mingled and talked and listened to the music coming from Gretchen's large stereo system.

"Why is that?" Wyatt asked, holding her a little tighter.  

 Francine looked around at the many women who kept either staring holes in her man or sparing shy glances in his direction, "Because it seems you're too much fun to look at."  

"Not nearly as much fun as you," Wyatt countered as he looked over her shoulder and let his eyes trail over her denim clad legs. He ran his finger across her bare shoulder and down her arm.

 She trembled and swatted his hand away, "I'm serious, Wyatt! I'm about to go in the house and get drool buckets for a few of them."  

Wyatt laughed loudly, "Let them look, Franny. There ain't nobody else in this whole world that I'm interested in other than you."  

He pulled away from her and stood up. Francine watched him walk down the steps and she couldn't help but stare at his long, lean legs and firm backside as he kept his back to her and looked at the empty dance floor.  

"Let's go dance," he said as he turned to face her, "I want to hold you close and let everybody watch and be jealous."  

Francine snorted, "Jealous that they're not dancing with you?"  

 Wyatt shook his head and held his hand out, "Jealous that they're not the one dancing with you."  

Francine smiled and took his hand. He led her out to the dance floor just as the music changed and Tracy Byrd began singing 'Keeper of the Stars'. Wyatt held her close and circled slowly. Francine laid her head against his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart. She heard the guests murmuring and then she smiled when she saw her parents join them on the dance floor.  

The stars were above them and the moonlight was shining down and Francine let herself get lost in Wyatt's arms. Then the world around them seemed to disappear when Wyatt began singing the words quietly in her ear. She couldn't stop the tears that sprang to her eyes from rolling down her cheeks. When the song ended and Francine finally forced herself to pull away from Wyatt enough to look up at him, she realized the dance floor was now full of people.  

She looked up at his green eyes and saw that he looked a little nervous and then he looked over and shared a glance with her father. Her dad nodded and then cleared his throat, "Pardon me everyone but this cowboy here has something he wants to say," Jackson smiled warmly at Francine, "You're up." he said to Wyatt.  

Francine had never liked being the center of attention and just now everyone was looking at them. She gave a nervous laugh as she looked around, "What's going on?"  

Wyatt wasn't really sure how this was done in this day and time but he'd watched a little bit of television with Janice over the week and a half he'd stayed with her during the day and he had seen men getting on their knees. So he pulled out her ring and dropped to his knee. Francine's eyes widened and she gasped.  

"Franny, since I first laid eyes on you, you have been on my mind every moment of every day. You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night. You are my soul mate. You are the one person in this world that was made for me and I was made to be with you. I have loved you in this lifetime and in a thousand lives before. Marry me, Franny?"  

Francine couldn't seem to speak so she nodded as she let out a happy laugh. He slipped the beautiful, antique ring onto her finger and then jumped to his feet and pulled her into his arms. He spun her around and around as the crowd clapped.  

"Would you share him for just a night before the wedding?" one of her older female cousins asked and Francine shook her head as she looked deep into Wyatt's eyes.  

"This man and I have overcome some pretty damn big obstacles to get to this point. I think I'm going to be greedy and keep him all to myself." 	Jackson walked over to them and patted Francine on the back, "Congratulations, Fran. Your mom and I knew you'd get it right eventually."  

"Francine! Where did you meet him anyway?" another female cousin hollered.  

Francine smiled and gave a small shrug, "He followed me home." Wyatt covered her lips with his own and kissed her tenderly. He pulled away slowly and led her off to the side and away from everyone.  

Francine smiled happily as she looked down at the beautiful ring now shining on her finger, "By the way, where did you learn that song?" she asked.  

Wyatt grinned. He grabbed her hand and pressed his lips gently against her knuckles, "There were two guides at the park that courted for a while. They would sneak down to the river and play that song almost every night while they danced. I always liked it.... The song that is."  

Francine let out an amused snort, "You were a peeping tom?"  

"A what?"  

"A spy."  

"I was bored," he replied with a shrug. "Did I do a good job with your ring?"  

"Being bored is no excuse for being a voyeur," she scolded. "And yes you did wonderful. This is a beautiful ring but....." she frowned and bit her lip.  

"What?" Wyatt asked as he sat down on the grass and leaned against the oak tree. He grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto his lap.  

"This wasn't one of those things that you stole was it?"  

Wyatt chuckled, "No. I bought it when I sold my things," he assured her. "It reminded me of you."  

"You surprised me tonight, I wasn't expecting that," she whispered. The cool breeze washed over them and Francine felt light enough that without his arms around her she was sure she would float away on it and off into the night.  

"You're going to have everything you want, Franny."  

"I have all I want," she replied as she laid her head on his shoulder. 	He kissed her forehead and entwined his fingers with hers, holding both their hands in the air so the lantern light from the party would glint off her diamond.  

"I'm gonna make everything on that list come true... Or die trying," he replied. He knew she wouldn't understand just how true those words were.  

"That stupid list that caused you to leave me in the first place?" Francine demanded with disbelief. "I wrote that thing when I was fifteen years old!"  

"And now I'm going to make it come true."  

Francine shook her head. She could argue with him that he made no sense and that what she wanted had changed but she knew that wouldn't do any good. Wyatt had his mind set and she was realizing that he was extremely stubborn once he made up his mind. 	

"I have one more question," she said as she relaxed against him.  

"What's that?"  

"What in the world was all that talk this morning about hormones, hippies, free love and rodeo hormones?"  

Wyatt laughed.

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

"Getting married?! You two don't waste any time do you?" Janice demanded with a laugh once Wyatt and Francine got back to the apartment the next night and told her the news.  

"I don't see any reason to waste time," Wyatt shrugged, "I love her, she loves me, might as well get married."  

"Oh geeze that so did not sound romantic," Francine mumbled as she kicked off her shoes.  

Wyatt frowned and Janice laughed and shook her head, "Nope, you're not allowed to complain about Casper. You are damn lucky and you have a man that's as close to perfect as they get."

 Wyatt's chest puffed out and Francine laughed and threw her arms around his neck, "I guess she has a point," she admitted with defeat.  

Wyatt grinned and kissed her freckled nose, "I'm not perfect but I am yours."  

"So what's for dinner, Casper? You've been gone a long time and I miss your cooking," Janice said as she stretched out on the couch and crossed her long tan legs. 	

"I guess I'll have to look through that cooking book again."  

"Cooking book," Janice mocked with a snicker.

 Francine rolled her eyes and slapped her best friend on the back of the head, "You don't have to cook, Wyatt. We can order something." Francine assured him.  

Wyatt shook his head, "I want to cook. I like it."  

He kissed her forehead tenderly and then walked to the kitchen. After a mouthwatering dinner of homemade lasagna, the three of them were sitting in the living room while Janice flipped through channels on the television.  

"So when is the wedding gonna be?" Janice asked.  

"As soon as it can be," Wyatt replied.

"You sound like you're in a hurry," Janice mused as she raised her perfectly arched brow. "You need to learn to have patience."  

Wyatt just shrugged and wrapped his arm around Francine's shoulders. He didn't have time to learn patience. He had to give Francine everything that she wanted before Madam Zinga killed him off.  

"Weddings cost money, Wyatt," Francine noted. "Or we could just go down to the courthouse and get married by the justice of the peace." 	

"No we can't. You want a wedding in a haunted house," he replied sternly.  

Francine frowned, "It's not fair that you read my journal. Even if I tell you that's not what I want you'll know it's a lie."  

"That's right," Wyatt agreed. "And I still have a bit of money," he added. He stood up and walked over to where his suitcase still sat by the door.  

He came back with an envelope and handed it to Francine. She looked inside and her eyes widened, "That's gotta be close to ten thousand dollars!" she exclaimed.  

Wyatt nodded, "Eleven thousand one-hundred and forty-seven." he informed her. "It's what I have left from selling my stuff. I wanted to keep the guns but Janice said they had guns nowadays that worked a lot better than mine so I let them go."  

"You can't exactly walk around with a six shooter strapped to your hip anymore, Casper," Janice said with a grin as she sat her laptop in her lap and opened it.  

"I'm finding that men these days are all talk and no real action. Back in my day if you ran your mouth you damn well better be able to back it up or you'd end up beat all to hell or dead." Wyatt grumbled.  

"Sounds truly primitive," Janice tsked. "That's why I ran a brothel... I liked happy, satisfied men."  

"Drunk, abusive, ugly as homemade sin men," Wyatt countered. "The happy, hardworking, good looking, nice men didn't have to go to the brothel and pay for satisfaction."  

Janice scrunched up her face, stuck out her tongue and went back to her computer.  

"I better get to bed soon. I have to work tomorrow," Francine said with a yawn as she snuggled up against Wyatt.  

"I have to look for a job," he said.  

"What kind of job?" Francine asked.  

"I'm gonna go out to the horse ranches outside the city. That is if Janice can drive me," Wyatt added flashing his most charming smile in Janice's direction.

 Janice rolled her eyes, "I guess I could drive you. Francine, you have to teach your Casper how to drive."  

"Can't I just buy a horse and ride it where I want to go?" Wyatt pleaded and the women laughed as they shook their heads. "Then I want one of those pick up trucks."  

"You've got enough money here to get a used truck," Francine informed him as she tossed the envelope on the table.  

Wyatt frowned, "But that's for...."  

"I don't need a ten thousand dollar wedding," Francine insisted. "I want a simple black dress....."  

"Black?" Janice cut in with a frown.  

"Don't judge me," Francine warned. "I want red roses in my bouquet, a black tux for Wyatt and that's all I want."  

"I just have to find you a haunted house," Wyatt stated as he tapped his fingers on her arm and stared at the wall deep in thought.  

"The courthouse is fine," Francine insisted and both Wyatt and Janice gave her a look that told her to shut up, "Fine, it's my wedding but whatever you all want to do."  

"I'm trying to think of a creepy yet pretty haunted house around here and I just can't think of one., Janice said as she tapped her foot and her whole body jiggled in her tight tank and short shorts.  

"What about a haunted theater?" Wyatt asked suddenly.  

"You mean that theater we looked at?" Francine questioned.  

Wyatt didn't miss the way her eyes brightened and he knew he'd found their wedding spot, "Yeah, Grenaldie or whatever it was called. I thought the place was beautiful and it's old and creepy and definitely haunted."  

"The red velvet and gold would be perfect....." Francine said thoughtfully.  

"Plenty of seating." Wyatt added.  

"And a stage to get married on...." Janice threw in.  

"But there's a bloody ghost with a knife," Francine reminded them. 	Janice shrugged, "Maybe he'll serve as an usher." she said hopefully and Wyatt chuckled as Francine still seemed to be thinking hard.  

"What about Bradley Owens, the owner? Do you think he'd go for it?" she questioned skeptically.

"It would give him publicity for his theater. And you did write that awesome article that's going to be in next weeks paper for him. If he's wanting to get that place up and running again this would be a good thing for him," Janice said with a nod.  

"I guess you're right. It's just that he..."  

"Wanted to get into your pants?" Wyatt said with a growl.  

 Francine's eyes widened, "No, he didn't! He just wanted to...."  

"Take you to bed?" Wyatt offered.  

 Francine rolled her eyes and smacked his arm, "You're too jealous."  

"No I'm not."  

"Yes you are. You broke the mans cash register."  

"No I didn't. I tripped."  

"Liar."  

Wyatt grinned, "Prove it."

"I think this will work. The three of us can go talk to Mr. Owens tomorrow after you get out of work, Francine." Janice said as she shut her laptop and sat it on the table.  

"Okay. I'll be getting to bed then. Come on Wyatt," Francine said as she stood.  

Wyatt shook his head and remained sitting, "I'll sleep out here."  

"Why?!" Francine demanded with a stomp of her foot that had Wyatt fighting back a laugh.  

"Because I want to wait until I'm your husband," he replied.  

 Janice stood quickly, "I believe I'll be getting to bed myself, this seems like a private discussion." She slipped away quickly.

"We've already made love, soldier boy, so it's too late to wait."  

"We made love when I didn't think I'd ever get to marry you," Wyatt countered gently but sternly, "It went against everything I'd ever learned about how to treat the woman you want to marry and now I'm gonna do things right."

 Francine grumbled with frustration. She had to be the only woman in the world who had to beg her fiancé to have sex with her before the wedding. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? "I want you to make love to me, Wyatt. We're getting married soon so what difference does it make?"  

Wyatt nodded and stood up, "Exactly. We'll share a bed soon enough. Until then, I'm sleeping on the couch." He kissed her forehead and she sighed with defeat. He was being that stubborn, 'my mind is made up' man again.  

"Fine. I guess it's a good thing I bought that vibrator," she mumbled before kissing him lightly, turning on her heel and walking away.

"What's a vibrator?" Wyatt called out and she didn't turn back as she waved off his question. "Franny, what the hells a vibrator?!" he asked again and he heard Janice burst out laughing in her room.  

Wyatt growled under his breath. He wanted to follow her but he wanted to do this right. His mother would come  back from the dead and tan his hide for sure if he shared a bed with her like a married couple before they were married.  

Instead he went to the bathroom to take a shower (something Francine had had to explain to him) and get ready for a night he was sure would be sleepless.  

---

"You think you can just drive up to one of these ranches and they'll give you a job?" Janice asked with disbelief as she and Wyatt rode up a long gravel driveway.  

"Yes," Wyatt replied simply.  

"What makes you so sure of yourself?"  

"Are you forgetting that I was raised in a time when we got around on horseback. We used horses, mules and ponies for travel, farming, towing, hauling...."  

Janice rolled her eyes, "Okay okay, I get it. You know your way around a horse."  

"That's right," Wyatt winked, "I guarantee I know more about horses than any of these city cowboys living here."  

 Janice laughed as the large sprawling barns and corrals came into view, "I"ll wait in the car. You go find whoever you have to talk to," she said as she put the bronco in park.  

Wyatt got out of the bronco, pulled on his hat and strode toward the barn with a confident swagger that had Janice eyeing his backside in those jeans. Francine was a lucky woman.  

Wyatt stepped into the first of the sprawling barns and looked around the dim but clean interior. He was surprised to find every inch of space clean and dust free. The smell of horse manure was faint and the scent of oil, used on the saddles and reins, was strong. Wyatt was walking from stall to stall admiring the impressive mares when a throat cleared behind him.  

"May I ask what you think you're doing?" Wyatt turned to see a middle aged woman in tight levis, a white blouse, brown vest and a white Stetson covering her curly blond hair. Her face was free of make-up and heavily lined from years in the sun and she looked suspicious and angry as her eyes scanned Wyatt up and down. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were in a tight line.  

"Yes, ma'am," Wyatt said as he pulled off his hat. "My name is Wyatt Montgomery and I'm looking for a job."  

"I'm not in the habit of hiring men who come and snoop around my barns. We have show horses, race horses, top of the line thoroughbreds... How do I know you aren't just here to spy?"  

"I apologize for snooping, ma'am. I came in here hoping to find someone working and I got carried away by the sight of these mares. You have some really nice horses here, ma'am."  

Her blue eyes lost just a little of their ice and she nodded, "Thank you. My name is Pauline Ingraham. This is mine and my husband's ranch."  

"Nice to meet you, ma'am. I moved here from Kansas a few weeks ago. I grew up working with horses and on farms. I need a job and I think I'd....."  

"Mrs Ingraham! We've got a problem!" A man exclaimed as he ran breathless into the barn. His shirt was covered in blood.  

"Is it Collete?" Pauline demanded with horror.  

The man nodded, "The baby is stuck," he replied. Without another word to Wyatt, Pauline ran from the barn and Wyatt followed on her heels. She ran into a small barn about two hundred feet away and Wyatt saw the problem. A mare lay on the straw floor of the large stall and it was clear that she was in labor and not going to be able to have the baby on her own.  

"Did you call the vet?" Pauline demanded.  

"Yes ma'am," the man replied with a nod. "But he said it would be two hours or longer before he can get here."  

"She'll be dead by then," Wyatt stated.

 Pauline rounded on him, "If you can't do anything to help then I'll ask you to please leave. I'm not looking to hire anyone at this time," she snapped.

 Wyatt nodded and turned to leave just as the mare let out a painful whinny. Wyatt turned and looked at her. Her brown fur was slick and her sides were heaving. He couldn't just leave her like that. He had birthed plenty of calves and foals in his life. Or at least he had before he had died.  

He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over a rake in the corner, put his hat on top of it and then walked over to the mare.  

"Hold her head and talk to her," he ordered Pauline and she did as he told her.  

Ten minutes later and Wyatt was sitting in the straw with a baby foal in his lap. He was covered in blood but the mare and the foal both appeared to be fine. Wyatt laid the foal next to her mother, who quickly began to lick her baby clean. Wyatt rose to his feet and walked out of the stall.  

"You have a job, Wyatt Montgomery. You can start tomorrow. We get to work about seven in the morning here and you'll be expected to stay until five," Pauline said as she held out her hand.  

Wyatt wiped his hand as clean as he could on his jeans and then shook her outstretched hand, "Thank you, ma'am."  

"No, thank you," she replied as she walked over to the mare, Collete, and scratched her behind her ears. "My husband bought me this horse as a gift six years ago. She's my personal favorite. I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost her."  

"She seems to be just fine now, ma'am."  

"Thanks to you," Pauline said, her face becoming softer. Then it hardened back and her eyes took on that stern look, "That will be all, Wyatt. I'll expect you here at seven sharp."  

Wyatt nodded and then walked out of the barn. Janice's eyes were wide when he opened the passenger door, tossed his shirt and hat in the backseat and then climbed in.  

"Okay, as hot and godlike as you look with your shirt off in those jeans, you stink and you're covered in... Is that blood?!"  

"Among other things," Wyatt replied with a nod.  

"Other things?" Janice questioned as she turned the key and fired the bronco to life. "Did you murder someone for a job?"  

"Of course not," Wyatt laughed. "There was a mare having trouble giving birth...."  

"Oh my God! You're getting birth juice in my car!!" Janice exclaimed.

 Wyatt shrugged, "It's a completely natural process..." Wyatt started but she cut him off with a look as she rolled her window down and motioned for him to do the same.  

"You stink," she accused, "And I don't want to hear about the process."  

Wyatt just shrugged as he rolled his window down. He didn't understand the big deal. Back when he'd been alive before, helping a horse give birth was a completely normal thing. It was something that had to be done and just about everybody who lived on a ranch or farm knew how to do it.  

"So did you get the job?" Janice asked as they drove back down the long gravel driveway.  

"Yeah, I gotta be here at seven in the morning."  

"Francine can bring you before she goes to work but you're gonna have to get a truck and learn to drive because I don't want any more birth juice in my bronco," Janice said as she wrinkled her nose and grabbed a piece of gum out of the center console.  

---

"Wyatt, please be on your best behavior," Francine warned as she pulled her cavalier into the parking lot of the theater that evening.  

"Why are you warning me?" Wyatt asked. "I'm always on my best behavior."  

"Don't be an overprotective, jealous ass, I think is what she was trying to say," Janice cut in from the back seat.  

Wyatt frowned, "I can't not be an overprotective, jealous ass....That's what I am."  

Francine rolled her eyes at both of them as she turned off the car and took her keys out of the ignition, "Best behavior," she repeated as she threw a look at both Wyatt and Janice and then got out of the car.  

"So is this Bradley guy hot?" Janice asked Wyatt as he got out and then folded his seat down so she could get out as well.  

"How would I know? It's summer so I guess he might be."  

Janice rolled her eyes, "I mean is he...... handsome." Janice's voice trailed off and handsome came out as barely more than a whisper.  

Wyatt followed her gaze and saw Bradley walking toward them. He was looking right at Francine with a broad smile on his perfectly groomed face. His suit was charcoal gray today with a white shirt beneath it and Wyatt wondered if he should have worn something fancier as he looked down at his white shirt that he'd worn with his uniform and his dark denim jeans that fit a bit looser than his wranglers.   

"Nice to see you again, Miss Ryan. I was surprised when I got your message that you wanted to meet me here," Bradley greeted with a warm smile.  

  Francine looked back at Wyatt who was walking over to stand beside her. Wyatt was happy to see the uncertainty in the man's eyes and he was also happy to realize that he was a good four inches taller than 

Bradley .

"I'm sorry it was such short notice, Mr. Owens," Francine apologized,  "But I actually have a favor to ask of you."  

"What's that?" Bradley asked as his gaze was suddenly drawn to Janice who had walked over in her short hot pink bandage style dress.  

"Sorry for not introducing everyone," Francine pointed at Wyatt, "This is my fiancé, Wyatt Montgomery, and this is my friend Janice."  

"Nice to meet you, Janice," Bradley said with a smile.  

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Owens."  

"Bradley," he countered.  

"Bradley," Janice agreed as she shook his hand.  

Bradley looked at Wyatt, "Mr. Montgomery," he said as he held his hand out to him. Wyatt just grunted and shook the offered hand. "I had no idea you were engaged, Miss Ryan," Bradley said, his voice accusing.  

"Did you ever get that cash register fixed?" Wyatt questioned. "Franny told me that it fell the last time she was here," he added in response to Bradley's questioning look.  

"Yes," Bradley tugged on his suit jacket. "Things made back then were made to last, there wasn't too much damage."  

"Yeah things used to be made a lot tougher than they are nowadays. Even the people were a stronger breed," Wyatt agreed. Francine threw him a look but he just shrugged.

"Mr. Owens, I was actually going to ask you if we could use your theater to have our wedding. We fell in love with the beauty of the place. Me when I was here and my fiancé through the pictures. I could pay you of course and I would make sure the word got out," Francine offered.  

"Could be great publicity for your theater," Janice added.  

"You want to get married here??" Bradley asked with disbelief. "Even after what you said you found?"

"That's why they want to get married here. You know, the whole haunted theater.  Spooky but beautiful is what they were going for," Janice said as she flipped her hair and then began inspecting her bright pink fingernails.  

"And your theater is beautiful," Francine added.  

Bradley seemed to be wondering whether or not allow them to use his theater and Wyatt knew it was probably because Bradley had been interested in Francine. Well that was just too damn bad for Bradley.  

Wyatt stepped forward, "I'll pay you three thousand dollars to let us use the theater for three hours. That's a thousand dollars an hour."  

"Wyatt!" Francine exclaimed.  

 Wyatt held up his hand and shook his head, "Don't start, Franny. This is your dream and I want to see it come true." Wyatt said in that no nonsense tone that told Francine that arguing was no use. "So what do you say Mr. Owens? It'll be good publicity plus you'll make good chunk of money. I'm sure Franny could even get the paper to start running ads once you're ready to reopen."  

"Well...Sure. Yeah, you can use the place," Bradley said with a shrug and Wyatt could practically see the dollar signs flashing in his eyes.   

"Thank you so much!" Francine exclaimed and Wyatt smiled when he saw how she beamed with excitement and happiness.  

"The place will have to be cleaned up some," Bradley warned.  

"I think that should be included in the three thousand dollars I'm paying you," Wyatt countered, "We'll clean up after," he assured the man.  

Bradley looked like he wanted to argue but one sharp glance from Wyatt had him changing his mind, "Of course," he conceded.  

They parted ways then and as Francine drove Wyatt and Janice back to the apartment she couldn't stop smiling, "This is amazing! I'm marrying the man of my dreams! I'm getting married in a haunted 1920's theater! I mean how awesome is that?" she exclaimed.  

"Pretty damn awesome," Janice agreed with a loud smack of her gun.  

"Thank you, Wyatt. I have a feeling he would have turned me down if you hadn't spoke up."  

Wyatt smiled and grabbed Francine's hand. He kissed her fingers gently, "I'd do anything for you, Franny."  

Francine smiled and then she slowed down and got into the turn lane, "Where we going?" Janice asked.  

"Wyatt needs a truck," Francine replied. "We're gonna find him a truck, and then you can drive the cavalier home and I'll take him out and teach him how to drive." Francine pulled into a used car lot.  

"Alrighty then, but I have a feeling you're gonna end up getting yourself killed." Janice replied teasingly and Wyatt hoped like hell she was wrong.

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-one

Janice had luckily been wrong about Wyatt and Francine getting killed during his driving lesson and now Wyatt had his own pick up truck that he'd been driving back and forth from work all week. It wasn't brand new and it had a few scratches in it's dark blue paint but Wyatt was proud of it.  

He pulled into the parking garage beside the apartment building the next Friday and smiled as he remembered Francine helping him get gas just the day before. He'd been scared to death they were going to blow up and Francine had laughed like crazy when Wyatt had nearly let out a yell of fear when the woman at the pump beside them had lit up a cigarette.  

"It's okay Wyatt, gas station blowups are really quite rare," she had teased. This had led to Wyatt tickling her, which had led to Wyatt pinning her to the side of the truck, which had led to them kissing for nearly ten minutes right there at the crowded gas station.  

Wyatt took the stairs two at a time up to their floor. He still preferred them over that moving coffin they called an elevator. He could only imagine what would happen if something went wrong and that thing went plummeting to the basement.  

Wyatt took out his key and unlocked the apartment door and as soon as he stepped inside he heard the argument taking place.  

"You can't just move out!" Francine exclaimed loudly.  

"I can't live here with you and your new husband. You're getting married next weekend and the last thing you and Casper need is me getting in the way while you go through your honeymoon phase," Janice countered.  

"Janice, this is your home too!" Francine insisted.  

Wyatt walked cautiously through the house. He had learned growing up that angry women were the most dangerous creatures in the world. They could turn violent at any moment and they didn't always attack the person they were really mad at.  

"Francine, don't make this difficult," Janice pleaded with exasperation.  

Wyatt poked his head around Janice's bedroom door and found the two women standing toe to toe. Janice had boxes in her room and was packing up her belongings while Francine kept grabbing things out of the boxes and trying to put them away.  

Francine caught sight of Wyatt and immediately crossed the floor to him, grabbed him by the arm and yanked him into the room, "Help me, Wyatt," she begged. Wyatt saw that though she was trying to act angry, she was near tears and clearly heart broken.

 Wyatt sighed with defeat. He would have done anything she asked in that moment with her big dark eyes shining with unshed tears, "What's going on?" he asked as he wrapped a comforting arm around Francine's shoulders.  

"Janice said she's moving out. She got a new place and she's going to leave tomorrow. She already talked to the land lord and everything!"  

Wyatt turned his gaze to Janice, "Why are you leaving?"  

Janice sighed as she took the stack of clothes from Francine's arms and put them back in a box, "Because I don't feel like being a third wheel to the newly married couple," she replied and this earned a snort from Francine. Janice ignored her and continued on,  "You both deserve your privacy and you don't need me hanging around and being in your way all the time."  

"My sister would never be in the way," Wyatt assured her.  

Janice shook her head, "I've made my mind up about this and I've talked to the land lord. It's a done deal," she assured them.   

"But you're my best friend and we've been together for a long time," Francine said with a sniff as a single tear broke free of the hold she'd kept on it and rolled down her cheek.  

"And I'll always be your best friend," Janice vowed comfortingly. "But you are moving on to the next phase of your life now. You have an amazing man who is going to be your husband in eight days. You'll probably be pregnant within a month if the make out sessions I've walked in on are any indication. Besides I'll come visit you so much that it'll be like I never moved out."  

"Then don't move out," Francine replied stubbornly and Janice growled with frustration and turned back to her boxes.  

"Franny, come with me for a minute," Wyatt said gently and he led Francine to her room.  

"Make her stay, Wyatt," Francine said, not bothering to hold her tears back any long now that they were alone.  

Wyatt felt his heart break and cradled her face in his hands, "How do you want me to do that? Tie her up and lock her in the closet?" he asked with a chuckle. "Because I will if you want me too. I'm sure there's some rope around here somewhere."  

Francine laughed through her tears and shook her head, "I'm just going to miss her like crazy."

 Wyatt wrapped his arms around her and she buried her face in his shirt. He smelled of saddle soap, horses, hay and sweat and it was an oddly familiar scent. She knew the reason that it was familiar was because they had lived a life together in which he had been a stable hand and she a duchess. The scent filled her with comfort and peace.  

"I will too," Wyatt agreed. "But you'll have me to keep you company." He barely kept himself from adding, 

‘for now’ to the end of that sentence.

Wyatt held her while she cried against his chest and after a few minutes he kissed her thick curls and pulled her away from him, "Why don't the three of us go out tonight?" he offered.  

Francine wiped her face and looked up into his green eyes. They were looking at her with so much love and tenderness that it took her breath, "Go where?" she asked.  

"Are there still saloons?" he replied.  

Francine smiled, "We call them bars now and the girls don't offer to go upstairs with you anymore."  

"Do they still serve beer and whiskey?"  

"Yes they do," Francine replied.  

 Wyatt flashed a grin, "That's all that matters."  

---

"This was a good idea, Casper," Janice admitted as she sipped at her bottle of beer.  

Wyatt nodded and then looked at Francine who was tracing the condensation on her bottle with her fingertip. She still looked sad and distracted and Wyatt wished there was something he could do to cheer her up.   

"What's that?" he asked, pointing to the machine in the corner. He could see the CD's on the inside so he knew it must play music.  

"It's called a jukebox. It plays music. You put in quarters, pick the songs you want and it plays them," Francine replied distractedly.  

Wyatt reached in his pocket and pulled out some quarters, "Here. Go pick some songs. I'll be back." He stood and walked through the smoke filled bar and the crowd toward the bathroom.  

"Come on Fran, let's pick out some tunes to liven this joint up," Janice said with a wink as she stood up. The women walked over to the jukebox and scanned the list of songs.  

"Hey there ladies," a man said behind them.  

They rolled their eyes and turned to see two men standing there with beers in their hands, "Hi," Francine offered and then turned back to the jukebox.  

"Would you two ladies like to come sit at our table?" the taller of the two men asked.  

Janice shook her head, "Not tonight. Tonight we're just out to reminisce about old times and celebrate new beginnings."  

The shorter mans eyes scanned her up and down and she tugged down on her short skirt, "You got a problem controlling those eyes?" she demanded.  

"A woman only wears clothes like that if she wants somebody to look," he replied.  

Janice stuck up her nose and eyed him with contempt, "I want somebody to look, just not you." she assured him. Francine couldn't help but laugh.

"You think that's funny, pretty thing?" The tall man asked her. Francine nodded as she deposited a few quarters into the jukebox and picked a couple of songs.  

"This is my song," the tall man said as a good country party song filled the bar.  

Francine forced a tight smile, "That's nice," she whispered.  He was standing entirely too close to her. She was leaning her body away from his but he continued to lean into her. She could smell the alcohol heavy on his breath and it nearly made her gag.  

"You two ladies wanna dance with us?" the short man questioned.  

"No. We didn't want to sit at your table and we sure as hell don't want to dance with you. Learn to take no for an answer," Janice said with an annoyed flip of her hair as she shoved her way past the short man who had had her all but pinned to the jukebox. She walked back toward their table with the short man on her heels.  

"Is that how you feel too?" The tall man asked Francine as he leaned close and his lips brushed across her ear. She squirmed away from him but couldn't move out of his hold because of her position against the jukebox.  

"I'm afraid so," she replied and she held up her left hand to show him her ring, "I'm taken."

 The man looked around the bar and then snorted and shrugged, "I don't see nobody running over here to claim you. Dance with me."  

"I really don't....." Francine started but she was interrupted by a throat clearing behind them.  

Francine and the tall man both turned and there was Wyatt. He had a wide legged stance in his levis and his arms were crossed over his broad chest as he eyed the tall man as if judging the quickest way to kill him.  

"Nice boots," the tall man said, eyeing Wyatt's cowboy boots.

 Wyatt merely nodded, "Would you mind removing that arm from my fiancée's waist, before I remove that arm from your body?"

Francine's eyes widened at the ice in his tone. His jaw looked tense enough to crack walnuts and his green eyes were flashing with rage.  She had never seen him so angry.  

"Oh is this your fiancé?" the tall man asked with a grin as he pulled Francine up against him tighter.  

Francine knew she was going to have to step in or else this man was going to get himself killed. She shoved him hard and caught him by surprise, managing to escape his grasp and she instantly went to Wyatt who slipped a gentle but possessive arm around her waist.  

The tall man sneered, "I didn't realize she was taken. I apologize." While he might be a few inches taller than this cowboy the cowboy easily outweighed him by seventy pounds of muscle. He wasn't looking for a fight with him just now.  

"Yes you did. At least be a damn man and own up to it," Wyatt countered sharply. Without waiting for a response he turned away from the man and led Francine back to their table where the short man was still coming on to a very annoyed Janice.  

The short man's eyes widened with surprise and just a bit of fear when he caught sight of Wyatt, "Clear out," Wyatt's stern voice ordered. The man nodded and quickly left the table. Wyatt pulled out Francine's chair and pushed her back in before taking his own seat.  

"You are badass," Janice said with a grin as she ran her hand through her hair.  

"Not as badass as I'm going to be if those men don't quit staring over here," Wyatt countered. "Excuse my language," he added with a tip of his head.

Francine and Janice shook their heads and laughed lightly, "Wyatt, times have changed. You can't just beat the crap out of people because they make you mad anymore," Francine informed him as she took a sip of beer.  

"They'll sue you," Janice added as she pressed her beer bottle to her cheek to cool herself off in the hot, crowded bar.  

"Sue me?" Wyatt asked, "What is that?"  

"It means they'll take you to court and make you pay for their pain and suffering," Janice replied.  

Wyatt laughed loudly as if he thought she was joking but then he turned serious when he realized she wasn't, "That is the single most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!" he exclaimed. "Men sure have turned into a bunch of yellow bellied sissies since I died."  

"Yes. Yes, they have." Janice agreed.  

The three of them sat together at the table laughing and talking for a long while. Wyatt kept his arm wrapped possessively around Francine's shoulders, not liking the way the tall man continued to eye her yet knowing that he couldn't beat the hell out of the man just for looking. Not in this day and time.  

The jukebox began playing a slow love song and Wyatt looked at Francine. He wanted to ask her to dance but didn't want to leave Janice alone at the table.  

Janice smiled when she saw the way Wyatt gazed longingly at Francine, "

Oui , dance with your woman, Casper,“ she said wistfully. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love.”

"

Oui ? Is that Spanish or something?“ Wyatt asked with a frown. Janice grinned, “Or something.”

Wyatt's brow furrowed but then he shrugged it off and stood, "Dance with me, Franny?" he asked as he held out his hand.  

Francine smiled and took his hand. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the tiny dance floor, "I never slow danced before you, Wyatt," Francine admitted with a smile as she turned in slow circles in the warm embrace of Wyatt's arms.  

"I never loved before you, but then again I never did much of anything for a long time before you so I guess we're even," he replied with a grin.

 Francine would normally have rolled her eyes and slapped his arm but she was too peaceful and happy in his arms to do so now, "I can't wait to be your wife and spend my life with you," she said as she wrapped her arms a little tighter around his neck.  

She felt his arms tighten around her as well, "I'll love you for the rest of my life, Franny, and I'll do my best to give you everything you've ever wanted."  

They danced quietly for a few minutes and when the song ended Wyatt looked over at their table when another slow song came on, "Janice looks lonely."  

 Francine looked to the table, "Yes she does..... I think she's sad about moving out."  

Wyatt heard the sadness in Francine's voice, "I think you're more upset than she is," Wyatt replied feeling just a little hurt. He wanted Francine to be just as happy as he was about starting their life together and it hurt to see her so sad over Janice. Wasn't he enough to make her happy? 	

"Your feelings are hurt," Francine noted as she lifted her head from his chest and looked at him.  

"No they're not," he lied.  

She rolled her eyes and raised her brow, "You can't lie to me, I know how to read you and you are upset."  

"I'm fine, Franny. I just want you to be happy."  

"I am happy, Wyatt. It's just sad to see some things end. Janice and I have been together in that apartment for a long time."  

"Janice has company," Wyatt growled, when he saw the short man walking over to her. He couldn't hear what the man said but he saw Janice shake her head and the man grabbed her by the arm and looked as if he was getting angry.  

"I'll be right back," Wyatt said as he pulled away from Francine.  

"Wyatt...." Francine warned.  

He grinned, "I'll be on my best behavior," he promised but she noticed that he crossed his fingers when he said it.

Wyatt walked over to the table and cleared his throat. The short man looked up, clenched his jaw and released his hold on Janice, "Is there a problem here?" Wyatt asked.

 Janice sighed and brushed her hand across her arm as if removing invisible dirt, "Nothing a little pest control won't fix."  

"Alright, alright, I'm leaving," the short man said as he held his hands up.   

Wyatt rolled his eyes and looked back toward where he had left Francine only to see the tall man trying to get her to dance. Wyatt growled and stalked across the bar toward them, "You men are really starting to get on my nerves," He ground out as he approached Francine and the tall man. 	

"And you're getting on ours," the short man snapped as he walked up behind Wyatt.  

"Maybe we should just go home," Francine cut in as she grabbed Wyatt's arm.  

Wyatt shook his head, "We came here for a good time. There's no reason why we can't have one," he assured her and then turned his attention back to the two men as Janice walked up behind him.  

"You sure are a cocky, son of a bitch!" the tall man bellowed angrily as he took a step toward Wyatt and shoved him backward.  

Wyatt had had enough. He had planned tonight to cheer up Francine and Janice and these two men had ruined it. They had refused to leave the women alone, insulted him and pissed him off. Now they'd started a pushing and shoving match and insulted his mother. Whether he got sued or not there were some things a man just couldn't allow.  

Wyatt removed Francine's hand from his arm and stepped forward causing both men to take a small step back, "We don't need to be doing this in here where there's ladies around. Let's take this outside," Wyatt said, tipping his head toward the door.  

Both men laughed, "Should we bring our dueling pistols?" the short man snickered.  

 Wyatt smiled, but the expression was humorless and cold, "Your faces and my fists should be all we need."  

"Wyatt!" Francine exclaimed. "We'll just go home."  

Wyatt shook his head. He had never once in his life backed down from a fight and the way he had it figured these men deserved a good old fashioned ass kicking.  

"Let's go then, you cocky bastard." the tall man said angrily and the two men headed for the door.  

"Wyatt, no," Francine said sternly.  

"Yes," Janice argued. "Those men deserve it."  

"Wyatt, I don't want you to get hurt," Francine said earnestly.  

 Wyatt smiled and kissed her forehead, "Have a little faith in me, Franny, I'm gonna be just fine."  

"You coming or have you changed your mind?" the tall man called from the door.  

They had the attention of most of the bar now, "I'm coming," Wyatt assured him and then he leaned down to Francine's ear, "It won't be the first time I've scarred my knuckles. It'll be good for me, I've been one hundred and fifty years without a good fight." He didn't give her time to reply before walking outside.  

"Men..... Even nearly two centuries ago they were worried about proving who had bigger balls." Janice mused.  

Francine made her way to the bar quickly and paid off their tab before pushing her way past the crowd at the door and stepping out into the back alley.  

Though she knew it was wrong and physical violence was never the answer to a problem, she couldn't help but hope that Wyatt would win. She nearly yelled out a warning when the tall man lunged at Wyatt but he easily side stepped him and then brought his arm down hard across the back of the mans neck dropping him to the ground.  

Francine's heart nearly stopped beating when the short man pulled a knife and lunged at Wyatt from behind but Wyatt crouched and turned, swinging out his leg and bringing the short man down as well.  

The tall man had regained his footing by now and swung a punch, catching Wyatt on the jaw. Much to Francine's surprise (and the tall mans) Wyatt chuckled and then swung his own punch which dropped the tall man into an  unconscious heap on the dirty pavement.  

The short man came at Wyatt again with his knife and Wyatt grabbed him by the arm and twisted. The man cried out in pain and the knife clattered to the ground. Wyatt swung his fist and the short man dropped to the ground on top of his friend.  

The crowd seemed to realize the fight was over and after a few hoots and hollers they made their way back inside.  

"Well that was a bit of a disappointment. I expected more of a fight," Janice noted with a frown.  

Wyatt shrugged, "It went about how I expected it would."  

"That's horrible!" Francine scolded. "Promise me you won't go around beating anybody else up."  

"I can't promise you that," Wyatt replied.  

"We should probably head back home before these guys wake up or someone calls the cops," Janice urged and the three of them started back to where they had parked the car.  

"I can't believe he pulled a knife on you...."  Francine said with disbelief. "It was kind of sexy how you beat them without even breaking a sweat though," she added with a grin.  

Wyatt winked, "Or busting a knuckle," he added. "How about a kiss for my jaw though, it's a little sore."  

Francine rolled her eyes and shook her head, "No, because that will only encourage you to do that again."  

 Wyatt laughed and wrapped his arm around her. He kissed her hair, "It felt good, Franny. I had over one hundred and fifty years of pent up aggression and I just let out a bit of it."  

"You are awesome...I need to do a reverse family tree on you and find a great great great nephew or something that's still single," Janice said with a laugh.  

---

"I am exhausted," Janice groaned when they walked in the apartment that night.

 It was close to midnight and Francine waved her hand, "I'm going to take a shower and go to bed," she agreed.  

Wyatt gave her a tender kiss and watched her longingly as she walked down the hallway toward the bathroom.  

"Go with her, Casper," Janice encouraged with a smile.   

Wyatt shook his head, "Nope." He saw a blinking light on a box by the phone. "What's this?" he asked Janice.  

She looked over on her way to the kitchen, "Just push the button that says play." she replied.  

Wyatt studied it and then pushed the play button as the sound of Francine turning on the shower came from the bathroom. Wyatt jumped when a voice began coming from the box.  

‘Francine, it’s Gregory. I think you and I need to talk. You still have some things of mine at your apartment that I want back but because of the harassment and assault that I have received from you I will not be coming and getting them alone. I will be getting a police escort within the next few days to come and get my things. You are a disturbed woman and clearly crazy and I do not feel I would be safe coming alone since you have already tried to kill me once. I wanted to give you a warning so you would not be surprised when the police and I knock on your door. Goodbye’

“He’s like a bad case of gas isn’t he? He just keeps popping up and causing a twinge in the stomach and pain in the ass,” Janice said as she walked out of the kitchen with a beer.

She came into the living room just in time to see the front door close and Wyatt disappear from sight. Her lips curved in a smile as she took a sip. She had a strong feeling that Gregory was about to regret that phone call.

---

Wyatt was surprised when he remembered so easily how to get to Gregory's apartment after only being there once so long ago. He took the stairs up to Gregory's floor and stood in front of the man's door. Gregory was going to leave Francine alone for once and for all. Wyatt would make sure of it.  

He knocked loudly and waited impatiently for the door to open. When it did Gregory looked Wyatt up and down with annoyance, "It is the middle of the night. Can I ask who in the hell you are and what you are doing here?"  

Wyatt shook his head and pushed his way into the apartment, "You can't ask me anything. I know who you are. I have warned you over and over again as nicely as I could to leave Franny alone. Okay, so I'll admit the computer upside your head wasn't nice but I figured it would get my point across."   

"Computer?" Gregory gasped as all the color drained from his face. 	Wyatt nodded, "Yeah that was me, you little coward, so why don't you take it up with me before you call and threaten my fiancée with your talk about police escorts."  

"Fiancée?" Gregory gasped and Wyatt wondered if maybe the man's brain was shutting down and refusing to acknowledge more than one thing at a time.  

Wyatt felt his fists clenched. He wanted so badly to knock Gregory's big white teeth down his throat. He began pacing back and forth, "You are not going to get any police to come to Franny's apartment. You can kiss whatever she has of yours goodbye. I think you trying to take her by force gave her free range to keep it all. She has me now so you can quit coming around and quit calling cuz she don't need your lying, cheating ass. Are the two of us understood?"  

Gregory stared hard at Wyatt for a moment and Wyatt wondered what the man was thinking, "I don't understand how you did what you did to me with that computer but you have no right to come into my home with your threats."  

"They aren't threats, Gregory. You keep messing with my woman and I will kill you. It's that plain and simple."  

"Where the hell did Francine find you?!" Gregory demanded as he inched toward shelf to his right, knowing that there were some candlesticks up there that would do some damage if he hit Wyatt in the head with them.  

"I followed her home one day and just wouldn't leave," Wyatt replied. "Now are you gonna be a man and back off or am I gonna have to knock some sense into you?"  

"You'll do no such thing!" Gregory exclaimed, "I might be smaller than you but I know karate."  

"And I know kicking your ass," Wyatt shrugged, "Leave Franny alone or else I'll have to show you how it goes."  

Wyatt turned and walked toward the door. He could hear Gregory walking up behind him, "Seems like you're going to an awful lot of trouble over that crazy, ghost hunting bitch," Gregory snorted, "The sex is good though so I don't blame you for fighting so hard to keep her."  

Wyatt saw red. He turned and barely managed to dodge the heavy metal candlestick that Gregory had aimed at his head. Wyatt swung out with his fist and caught Gregory hard across the jaw. Gregory went down to the ground and curled up in a ball, moaning and holding his face.  

Wyatt walked over and kicked the man in the legs, "Look up here at me, you damn wimp." he said and Gregory looked up at Wyatt with hatred and pain in his blue eyes, "You think Franny's crazy for what she believes in? What if I told you that I am a one-hundred and seventy-three year old ghost. I died in a battle during the Civil War before I was able to meet the woman who would have saved me. She is the same woman that I have been in love with for countless lifetimes before. In this life her name is Francine Ryan and I can make you this promise, Gregory. If you so much as breath in her direction again, if she has one more ounce of trouble out of you or has to hear your voice one more time, she'll be hunting your spirit because you'll be a dead man."  

Wyatt fought the urge to spit on the cowering man and then he strode from the apartment and slammed the door behind him. He didn't think Francine would have any more trouble out of Gregory.  Wyatt knew a coward when he saw one and that's exactly what that man was.  

Wyatt knew that Francine would be upset over what he had just done but she would get over it. There were times in a man's life when he had to step up and whoop another man's ass to get his point across. Then again maybe it wouldn't hurt to snatch her some flowers out of the neighbors flowerbed, just in case.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

"Why are you nervous?" Janice scolded as she pulled back the sides of Francine's dark curly hair so she could weave the black iridescent beads that Gretchen had brought with her into the strands.  

"What if he changes his mind?" Francine asked, tapping her French manicured fingernails on the living room table nervously.

 Janice laughed, "Fran, he does everything for you. Coffee runs, flowers, cooking, dancing, bar fights... Hell he even came back to life for you! Why would you think he would change his mind about marrying you now?"

"Be careful what you say! My mom will hear you," Francine warned. 	Janice shook her head, "She's running around like a crazy woman on that phone. She wouldn't hear a nuclear blast go off right now."   

As if on cue, Gretchen came breezing through the room with the phone glued to her ear as she went on and on with someone about the fact that her daughter was wearing a black dress. She had accepted all of the other strange details of Francine's wedding but she was having a hard time accepting the fact that her only daughter wasn't wearing white on her wedding day.  

"Her hair looks beautiful like that!" Gretchen exclaimed with a thumbs up at Janice and then she disappeared back into the kitchen.  

"See what I mean?" Janice asked with a raised brow. "Anyways, Wyatt loves you and your wedding is going to be perfect and he's not going to change his mind. Now look in this mirror at your hair and make-up and tell me what you think."  

Janice handed her the small hand mirror and Francine stared in awe at the magic her best friend had worked. Francine's dark curls were full and soft. The beads caught the light and shone. Several long tendrils of curls framed her cheeks which Janice had left make-up free. It was well known that Wyatt loved Francine's freckles and so she hadn't wanted to cover them with make-up. Her dark eyes were framed by light shadow and mascara and her lips were shiny with gloss. It had to have been the least make-up anyone had ever worn for their wedding but Francine knew that it was what Wyatt would want.  

"Casper will be speechless and he'll just fall even deeper in love with you thanks to my super skills," Janice said with a wink. Francine smiled and felt a tear fill her eyes. "No crying!" Janice exclaimed waving her hand in front of Francine's face. "You'll ruin all my hard work."  

"It took twenty-five minutes and twenty of those were spent on my hair," Francine reminded her with a laugh.  

Janice shrugged, "Just because I'm fast doesn't mean I'm not good." She glanced at the clock, "We better hurry up! We only have forty-five minutes before you are due at the theater and you're not even in your dress yet!"  

"Let's go then!" Francine exclaimed as she jumped to her feet and the two women ran back toward the bedroom. "Mom are you going to help me put on my black dress?" Francine called out with laughter.   

"I don't know why you can't just wear a white dress like a good girl. You could do that much for your mother couldn't you?" Gretchen asked as she hung up the phone and followed after them.  

"I'll tell you what momma, you divorce daddy and find yourself a new husband and I'll let you wear my dress," Francine offered.

 Gretchen laughed, "My left leg wouldn't fit in your dress my darling. Not anymore. Now let's get you dressed so we can get you married to that hunk of a man that's waiting at the church."   

---

"I've never been a coward but right now I'm damn nervous," Wyatt admitted as he wiped his sweaty palms on his black trousers.

Jackson chuckled as he took a puff off the cigarette in his hand, "Why are you nervous?" he asked when Wyatt began pacing back and forth in the dressing room they had gone to in the old theater.  

"Because he is taking the long walk off the short plank and falling headfirst into the unforgiving arctic waters of marriage." Chase replied dramatically.

 Jackson shook his head, "I can't wait until some woman comes along and...."  

"It will never happen," Chase interrupted with a quick shake of his head.  

"So where is your family, Wyatt?" Jackson asked.  

 Wyatt stopped pacing and shrugged, "I don't know," he replied honestly.  

Jackson nodded sadly, "It's none of my business," he apologized. "I was just curious."  

Wyatt didn't know what else to say so he said nothing and just picked back up where he'd left off in his pacing.  

"The women are here you all. You better get out here and take your places. Jackson you better get to the dressing room on the other side of the stage, Francine is waiting on you," one of Francine's cousins said as he poked his head in the room.  

"Well good luck, cowboy." Chase offered and he and Jackson left the room.  

Wyatt took a deep breath and stared in the mirror. This was it. He was going to give Francine the wedding she had always dreamed of in front of all of her friends and family and then he was going to love her with everything he had for as long as he had to love her.  

He prayed that Madam Zinga would change her mind about the price he would have to pay for his new life but he wasn't going to count on that. He had known the price when he had made the deal and he would pay it without complaint. With his death they would be apart for a while but eventually, when she was an old woman, Francine would pass on and they would be together again.  

He ran his hand through his thick dark hair and then walked out of the room and onto the stage. The theater was full of Francine's family and friends. Red roses and white candles filled the room. Bradley Owens had definitely earned the money when it came to cleaning. The red velvet of the seats was shining and soft. The dark wood had been polished and was glowing in the candlelight and every bit of golden brass was glittering.

Someone had hung ribbons and something Wyatt had been informed was called tulle was draped from the balconies above. It was nice, Wyatt had to admit but he never had been very interested in decorating. He just wanted to marry his soul mate and then get her home so he could make love to her like he'd been wanting to do for weeks.  

---

“My baby is getting married,” Jackson whispered once he and Francine were alone in the tiny dressing room.

Francine did a spin in her dress. The bodice was tight and corset like in design with a sweetheart neckline. The bottom was all black satin and lace and flared out like a ball gown. Black rhinestones lined the intricate waistline and top of the bodice. She had black flats on her feet of course because heels were out of the question even on her wedding day. She was tall enough without adding an extra three or four inches.  

"How do I look?" she asked.  

"Like a beautiful corpse bride," Jackson replied with a smile and 	Francine grinned, "That's just the look I was going for," she admitted. "Mom's not very happy about my dress choice."  

"Your mom is an old fuddy duddy. I'm the cool one," Jackson replied and though his tone was happy Francine could see the sadness in his eyes.  

"What's wrong, daddy?" she asked, suddenly feeling like a little girl again standing here with her father.  

"You're all grown up," he said with a sniff as he reached out and touched one of the beads in her hair.  

"Don't get all sentimental on me now!" Francine scolded as she felt her throat close up. "You're the cool one, remember?"

 Jackson sniffed again and shrugged and she straightened his tux jacket, "Aw hell, I guess I'm just an old fuddy duddy too."  

"Are you ready to walk me out, fuddy duddy?"  

Jackson nodded and held out his arm and Francine took it as she grabbed her bouquet of red and black roses off the vanity.  

They had chosen not to have groomsmen or bridesmaids since Wyatt didn't have any family or friends of his own to attend so as she walked the back way to the lobby and stood in front of the double doors to the theater she heard the old antique organ fill the theater with its beautiful but eerie sound as it played the bridal march.  

Wyatt stood at full attention as soon as the organ began to play. He looked every bit the military man as he stood motionless and stared at the doors. They were pulled open and the sight of his Francine took his breath. Then, when his everything, his very reason for living, the one thing that kept his heart beating smiled at him, he thought for sure he would collapse right there on the stage.  

Jackson led her to the stage where Wyatt and the preacher were waiting. Her father gave her away and Wyatt reached down and gripped her firmly by the waist, pulling her up onto the stage and hand in hand they walked back to the makeshift alter.  

"You look beautiful," Wyatt whispered, surprised when he could hear the emotion and tightness in his voice.  

Francine smiled and looked him up and down in his tux, "You look pretty nice yourself."  

The preacher began the service but Francine didn't pay much attention to his words. She was too busy staring at this man who was about to be her husband and wondering how she had gotten so lucky. He was warm, kind, caring, funny, strong and protective. He had a bit of a jealous streak but it was getting better and it was clear from the way his green eyes were gazing at her that he loved her more than anything else in the world.  

Who would have thought that Francine Ryan would find her soul mate in a replica bunkhouse in Vicksburg Mississippi? Who would have thought he would have been a long dead Civil War ghost who followed her home? She loved him so much her heart hurt and she couldn't wait to spend their lives together and then eternity after that.  

The kiss that Wyatt gave her to seal their vows made the earth itself shake. Francine felt her knees turn to mush and would have fallen if not for his strong arm wrapped firmly around her waist. Wyatt pulled away from her and jumped down off the stage. He reached up and she dropped down into his waiting hands and then laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck when she realized that he wasn't going to put her back on her feet.  

Her family and friends were laughing and clapping as he carried her out of the theater and into the sunlight outside. There was a limousine waiting and Francine's eyes widened.  

"A limo?" she exclaimed.  

Wyatt shrugged, "A gift from Pauline Ingraham, that woman I work for. She said every woman dreams of riding in a limo at least once. I had no idea what a limo was.... That's a big car."  

Francine laughed and kissed him soundly, "You are an amazing man, Wyatt Montgomery."  

"You ain't seen nothing yet, Francine Montgomery," he replied with a wicked grin which had Francine's heart pounding in her chest.  

"You better not look at me that way. We still have to get through the reception," she warned.  

The wickedness didn't leave his face as he nuzzled her neck, "We'll make an appearance but I don't think we'll be there long," he promised and Francine trembled.  

"Well go on you two! At least wait until you're in the car before you eat each other up!" Janice exclaimed and laughter filled the air behind them. 	They both looked back to realize that a crowd had gathered to see them off. Wyatt smiled and sat Francine down on her feet. He opened the limousine door and ushered her in as a short man in a top hat and fancy tux walked around the car.  

"I'll be your driver today sir," he said.  

 Wyatt raised a brow and nodded, "Okay. You know how to get where we're going, right?"  

The man nodded, "Yes sir."  

"Good. Nice hat," Wyatt said and then he climbed in beside Francine. The man shut the door and Wyatt stared hungrily at his new wife "I love you," he whispered huskily.  

"I love you too," she replied, her voice breathless and shaky.  

"You are the best thing to ever happen to me, Franny. You are one hell of a gift and you're a gift that I am not going to take for granted. I'm going to make everyday we have together as perfect for you as I can."  

"Just being with you makes it perfect," Francine replied as she scooted across the seat and he wrapped her tight in his arms.  

"By the way, I heard your mom whispering to your aunt that your dress was beautiful but...."  

"It would have looked better white?" Francine asked with a smile.  

Wyatt chuckled, "Nope. She said your dress was beautiful but you should have worn different shoes."  

Francine laughed, "That woman is impossible! I think she's forgetting that she got married in flip flops, bell bottoms and a tube top in Vegas."  

"What's a tube top?" Wyatt asked.  

"It's a strip of fabric that run across..." Francine tried to indicate with her hands what it was but finally shook her head and waved her hand. "I think I have one in my closet somewhere. I'll show you later."  

Wyatt grinned, "Yes, ma'am."  

---

The reception passed quickly. Francine danced with Wyatt and with her father and Chase. She laughed when she saw Wyatt dancing with her eighty-five year old grandmother, who had kept both her hands firmly planted on his butt. Then Wyatt had danced with one of Francine’s seven year old cousins and the young girl had kept her feet on top of Wyatt’s as he led her around and around the dance floor.

It didn't take long before Francine and Wyatt found themselves saying goodbye to everyone and the long white limousine dropped them back off at the apartment. They weren't going on a honeymoon right away but instead Francine had been looking at cruises online for them to go on later. Wyatt hoped he lived long enough to take her on her dream cruise.  

"I'll be right back," Francine said and she walked back toward the bathroom.  

Wyatt nodded and then removed his tux jacket, cummerbund and vest. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and fought the urge to collapse on the couch. He was exhausted. Instead he made his way to the kitchen and grabbed a beer. He hadn't expected to be so tired by the time today ended. It kind of put a damper on his urge to throw Francine down on the bed.  

He heard soft footsteps approach the kitchen and turned to see Francine standing in the doorway in a tiny wisp of red silk fabric that hugged her willowy frame and left very little of her body to Wyatt's imagination. The beer bottle nearly fell from his hand and he quickly took one last long drink, set his bottle down and crossed the room to her.  

His fatigue was forgotten as he wrapped his arms around her, pulled her long body against his and kissed her hungrily. Without a single word he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom where he discovered that she had lit candles atop the dresser and side tables. Wyatt laid her down on the bed and her eyes were dark with passion as he moved his kisses along her jaw and down her long graceful neck. His rough calloused hands smoothed along the silky fabric of her gown and when he felt her small hands on his back he pulled away and quickly began to remove his clothes.  

"Hurry up and get in this bed, soldier boy. You've kept me waiting long enough."  

Wyatt looked down at her lying on the bed. Her small breasts were rising and falling with her breaths and her long legs were bare and tempting him with their softness. Her dark eyes were eyeing him hungrily and her cheeks were flushed.  

"God, my wife is beautiful." he groaned gruffly.  

Quickly, Wyatt finished removing his clothes and then slid himself into the bed to make love to the only woman in the world that he had ever loved. He would make sure that he loved her with everything he had tonight because he had no guarantees that he'd live to see tomorrow

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

"One month as a married woman and I must say that you are glowing!" Janice said with a wink as she and Francine sat down to lunch at the small diner down the road from Francine's office. "Of course I'd have that glow too if I was getting loving from a man that hot every night. Are there any little Wyatt's on the horizon."  

"It's only been a month," Francine reminded her. "And no as of this morning there are no little Wyatt's on the horizon."  

"You'll make sure I'm the first to know right? After Casper of course." Janice added.  

 Francine laughed lightly, "Yes you'll be the first," she promised. The waitress came and brought their order and the two girls fell into easy conversation.  

"Wyatt and I are going on a road trip next month. We want to go to some of the civil war sites that you and I missed. He really wants to go to Port Royal, that's where his dad was killed." Francine said as she sipped at her cola and stuck a fry in her mouth.  

"Have some extra fun for me and if you happen to find any hot dead guys do you think you could bring one back for me?"  

"Sure. The next dead guy is all yours," Francine assured her. They continued with their meal, laughing and catching up on the week.

 Neither saw the woman watching them from outside. Madam Zinga watched Francine and Janice eating their lunch. She was still angry for what Wyatt and Francine had done. They had not been happy with the gift she had given them by allowing Wyatt to remain a spirit so they could be together in this life. Instead they had wanted more, more, more. And then they hadn't even had the decency to invite her to the wedding. They would pay for what they had done to Madam Zinga and today is the day she would collect the life she was owed and tear the lovers apart.  

She limped off, leaning heavily on her cane, and made her way back toward her store.  

---

Francine and Janice were just finishing their lunch when Francine’s cell phone rang.

"Hello?" she asked not recognizing the number.  

"Is this Francine Montgomery?" a male voice asked.  

"Yes it is," she replied as she frowned and shrugged at Janice's questioning look.  

"I'm afraid your husband, Wyatt, was involved in an accident today. He was breaking a horse and was thrown. I really don't know what shape he's in. He was unconscious when the ambulance left the ranch with him but I figured you'd want to know so you could get there."  

"Thank you." Francine whispered before snapping her phone shut and jumping to her feet. She pulled a fifty from her purse and threw it on the table, not waiting around for change before running from the diner.  

"What's wrong?" Janice demanded as she ran after her.  

"It's Wyatt! He was hurt!" Francine replied as she ran down the sidewalk. Her car was parked at the office.  

"Where is he?" Janice said as she ran after her in her four inch heels.  

"The hospital," Francine replied. Her mind was racing. That man hadn't known how seriously Wyatt was hurt but he had known that Wyatt had been unconscious when the ambulance had left. That had to mean he was hurt bad! Breaking a horse! Of all the ridiculous things she had ever heard.  

She got to her car and jumped in the drivers seat, surprised when the passenger door opened and Janice jumped in as well.  

"He's my brother, I have to come!" Janice informed her. "Are you okay to drive?"  

"I'm fine!" Francine replied and she quickly brought the car to life and sped off down the road.  

---

‘Beep Beep. Beep Beep. Beep Beep.’ The sound of beeping was the first noise that Wyatt was aware of. He moaned when the next thing he became aware of was the pounding in his head and the pain in his arm. He opened his eyes, and then closed them quickly when the bright fluorescent light assaulted them.

He curled his nose. Wherever he was it stunk like antiseptics. It must be a hospital. The last thing he remembered was being thrown from that bucking mare and striking his head on the fence as he came down on his left arm. He cracked his eyes open more slowly this time, allowing them time to adjust and then looked down at his arm which was wrapped in a rock hard thick bandage of some sort. He raised his good hand to his head and realized he had a bandage on his forehead and there was some sort of tube connected to his hand.  

"Hello....?" he called out and the light green curtain surrounding him was pulled away on one side and a smiling nurse was standing there.  

"You're finally awake, Mr. Montgomery?" she asked and he nodded.  

"It looks that way," he replied.  

"The doctor ran an MRI and it looked okay. I'm sure he'll be in here to talk to you soon and hopefully we can get you out of here. That was quite a knock you took to your head, I'm surprised you weren't more hurt."  

"My mama always said I was hardheaded," he replied.  

 The nurse laughed lightly, "Your wrist and your radius were broken in your arm so you'll have to wear that cast for a while but the doctor will talk to you about all of that in a moment. Is there anything I can get for you while you wait on him?"  

Wyatt shook his head at first and then called out to her as she turned away, "My wife! Francine Montgomery. Can someone call her for me?"  

"Of course," she replied. He told her Francine's cell number and then he relaxed back against the bed as she closed the curtain and walked away. He was drifting off to sleep again when he heard the nurses hushed voices coming from the other side of the curtain.  

"It was a bad accident," one of them said.  

"Someone should tell him." 
"I'm not telling him that his wife is dying."  

"Well then what am I suppose to tell him?" his nurse demanded helplessly. "He told me to call her."  

Wyatt jumped from the bed. The needle and tube ripped from his hand and his blood dripped onto the tile as he ran to the curtain and jerked it aside. Luckily he was still wearing his clothes.  

"Mr. Montgomery you shouldn't be out of that bed yet," his nurse said sternly.  

Wyatt shook his head, he was dizzy and his legs felt wobbly but none of that mattered just now, "Where is my wife? Are you talking about Franny being in an accident? Is she here in the hospital?"  

"Mr....."  

"Don't tell me to get back in that bed one more damn time!" Wyatt exclaimed with a mixture of anger and fear. "Where is my wife!" he was yelling now but didn't care.  

"The ICU," his nurse replied as tears filled her eyes when she saw the stricken look on Wyatt's face.

"Where is that?" he asked.  

The other nurses had gone to check on other patients in the ER and escape the situation and Wyatt's nurse sighed, "I'll take you if you'll let me put a bandage on that hand." she replied. Wyatt looked down and realized that he was bleeding freely. He nodded and she quickly pulled some gauze and tape from her pocket and wrapped it around his hand. Then he followed her down the brightly lit stark hallways.

Wyatt felt as if he was walking in a daze. He passed people but didn't see their faces. He heard voices but not the words. The nurse led him into another part of the hospital with glass walls. The sounds of hundreds of beeping machines filled the air and Wyatt looked all around for Francine. He was hoping to see her sitting up in a bed somewhere and she would talk and laugh with him and tell him his fears were baseless.  

But that's not what happened. The nurse led Wyatt to a room and when he stepped inside he nearly dropped to his knees at the sight of Francine lying in that hospital bed. She had a number of machines hooked to her and they were all beeping and had different numbers and patterns on them. 	

"What happened?" he choked out as his boots remained stuck to the floor and his legs refused to move.  

"I'm not sure. I'll have one of the nurses come in and talk to you," the nurse left the room after closing all the curtains to give Wyatt and Francine privacy.  

Wyatt finally found the strength and courage to move his legs. He walked to the bed and looked down at her bruised and battered body. Her head was wrapped tight in a bandage and bruises and welts covered her cheeks. She was covered by a sheet from the neck down but her hand was sticking out from beneath and he could see that it had a tube running into it just like his had. Someone had removed her wedding ring, he noticed.

"Franny?" he whispered above the beeping of machines. He crouched down beside the bed and ran his good hand over her bruised cheek, "Franny, it's Wyatt, wake up honey," he begged.  

She didn't move a muscle. Not even her eyelids flickered and he felt panic and fear filling him. What was wrong with his wife? "Franny, you're scaring me. Wake up, please," he pleaded as a lump formed in his throat and his eyes burned.  

The curtain shifted behind him and he turned to see Janice step into the small room, "How is she?" Janice asked. Her cheek was bruised and her arm was in a sling but other than that she looked fine.  

"I don't know," Wyatt replied in a broken voice.  

Janice walked over to the bedside and Wyatt saw her face grow pale, "What did the doctor say?"

"He hasn't been here yet," Wyatt replied.

 As if on cue the curtain was pushed aside and a short, thin man with gray hair and a white jacket stepped into the room. He had watery blue eyes and he studied the chart a moment before looking at Wyatt and Janice.  

"Are you Mr. Montgomery?" he asked Wyatt.  

 Wyatt nodded and ran his hand through his hair, "What's wrong with my wife?"  

"Are you family? Because only family is allowed in these rooms," the doctor said to Janice.  

Janice was about to argue but Wyatt held up his hand, "She's my sister, I have a head injury so she's here for me. What is wrong with my wife?"  

"We ran some scans and tests that aren't back yet but it doesn't look good, Mr. Montgomery. She is on a respirator and without drugs her body doesn't want to regulate her blood pressure on its own.  She suffered massive internal damage. If I am being honest, I don't think she is going to make it but I'll know more when the tests come in." With that the doctor walked out.  

"So much for bedside manner," Janice said, though her voice was full of sadness and tears ran down her cheeks.  

Wyatt let out a confused and frustrated growl, "I don't understand what any of that means!" he exclaimed. "Blood pressure, respirators, what is that?"  

"It's not good, Casper," Janice replied. She pressed a kiss to Francine's cheek and quickly walked toward the curtain. Weakness was not something Janice liked to show others, "I'll call her parents."  

"First tell me what happened to her," Wyatt said quickly.  

Janice sighed, "She got a call that you were hurt and she was in a rush to get here. She was near tears and upset so I went with her to try to keep her calm. We came through an intersection and some dumbass in a truck ran a red light and sideswiped us on the drivers side. The truck sped away and was gone when the cops got there..." Janice's voice broke. "Fran hasn't woken up a single time."  

    "Go call her parents. I'm staying right here," Wyatt replied with a nod as he looked back down at Francine lying so still in the bed. Janice nodded and left, pulling the curtain closed behind her.  

Wyatt climbed into the bed beside Francine and laid his head against her chest. He could hear her heart beating beneath his ear and it offered him some comfort. He draped his arm over her stomach and entwined his fingers with hers the best he could with his cast. He closed his eyes and sent up a hundred prayers that she would be okay. But she had to be okay. After all madam Zinga had said.......

Before Wyatt could finish that thought the curtain was pushed aside again and the doctor reentered the room, "I'm afraid the test results were not good," he said sadly. "There is zero brain activity. Your wife is gone."  

Wyatt rose to his feet, "She's not gone. She's right here," he argued.  

"Her brain is dead."  

"She is not dead!" Wyatt argued angrily, convinced that this doctor must be crazy. "She's breathing!" he added.  

The doctor shook his head, "The machine is breathing for her and the medicine is maintaining her blood pressure. Without both of those things her body would shut down. I'm sorry. As her husband it is your decision on when we pull the plug on the machines and let her go."  

Wyatt was filled with a rage that was bred of pain and confusion. How could Francine be dead? He was watching her breathe! He had been listening to her heart beating! What kind of machine could do those things and why in the hell would the doctor want him to unplug it?!  

"My damn wife is not dead!" he bellowed. "She can't be dead!" he added though his voice broke as tears filled his eyes during the last bit and it ruined his angry façade.  

"I'm sorry, Mr. Montgomery," the doctor replied as he folded his arms across his chest. "I wish there was better news I could give you but she is dead. The machine is all that is keeping her breathing. I would suggest pulling the plug soon and not putting her body through any more suffering. Her soul is already gone."  

"Get the hell out of here!" Wyatt screamed. "You don't know what you're talking about!! Leave! Leave!" he exclaimed as he took a step toward the doctor.

 The doctor quickly left the room, not in any hurry to have a fight with the six and a half foot tall angry man in the dirt covered clothes.  He stopped outside the room and told the nurse to have some sedatives ready in a syringe just in case and to tell her to have Francine moved to a regular room since there was nothing the ICU could do to help her now.  

Wyatt walked to Francine's bedside and stared down at his motionless wife. She didn't move a single muscle. Her arms didn't jerk. Her eyelids didn't twitch. Her lips didn't quiver. There was nothing. She was eerily still...just like a dead person. Wyatt paid attention to the movement of her chest and realized that it coincided with the clanking and whooshing sound coming from the machine beside her.  

How could this happen? He collapsed to his knees beside the bed and buried his face in her chest, covering his head with his hands. Madam Zinga had said he would die. Or had she? He thought back to the day he'd made his deal with Madam Zinga. Tragedy would end their life together. That's what she had said and he had just assumed she meant that he would die. She hadn't told him he was wrong when he had voiced that assumption.  

Had the woman been so angry, was she so cold hearted and evil that she would have played such a trick on him?  

Wyatt was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't voice a word of complaint when the aids showed up to take Francine to a regular room. He just followed behind them and once he and Francine were alone again with all of her machines, he collapsed in a broken heap on the bed and sobbed against her cheek, soaking them both with his tears.  

"I'm so sorry, Franny. This is my fault. This is all my fault. It was supposed to be me! It should have been me! I don't want to live without you. She knew that..... Why this? Why would she take you away from me? You are all I have in this world. You can't die."  

He waited for her to tell him that it was okay and that she wasn't angry and that she was going to be fine but of course she didn't say a word and the only sound in the room was the constant clinking and whooshing sound of the machine giving her life. How in the hell did that doctor expect Wyatt to say it was okay to pull that plug when pulling that plug would ensure that he would be burying his wife?

"This is my fault. It should have been me," he said again.  

"What are you talking about?" Janice's voice came from behind him. He turned to see her standing there looking confused and sad. Her eyes were red and swollen and her cheeks were wet with tears.  

Wyatt stood and swiped his good hand across his own cheek but it was no use since new tears quickly replaced the old, "This is my fault Janice. I killed her."  

"How do you figure that and what do you mean killed her?"  

"The doctor said she's dead," Wyatt replied and Janice was shocked by how defeated and broken he sounded. She knew it would kill him if he lost Francine. She was all he had to live for. "That machine is all that's making her breathe," Wyatt added.

Janice felt her heart break. Her best friend was gone. What would she do without her best friend? "Why did you say it was your fault?" she asked, trying to focus on something other than losing Francine. She hated to cry in front of anyone, even Casper.  

"There's something I never told you or Franny about the deal I made with Madam Zinga," Wyatt replied as he shifted his feet and his good hand formed a fist. "She told me that she was angry and that if I chose to be a real man then tragedy would end our life together. I assumed that meant I would die and she knew that's what I thought and she never told me I was wrong....."  

"So you're telling me that Francine is lying here and is going to die because you made a deal with madam Zinga and then never bothered to tell us?!" Janice exclaimed as all of her sympathy for Wyatt faded away.  

Wyatt nodded as his heart felt as if it was ripping from his chest, "Get the hell out of here!" Janice exclaimed as she slapped him across his face. "You did this to her! You took her away from me! All because you had some damn inferiority complex!"  

"I...."  

"No. Leave!" Janice said more sternly.  

Wyatt nodded, knowing that Janice's anger was justified. He kissed Francine's forehead, "I'm going to fix this," he promised both women in the room. "I'm going to go fix it right now. It was supposed to be me that died and Madam Zinga is going to kill me and let her live or else she'll be the one that dies."  

"Just go, Wyatt," Janice said as she sat down in the chair beside the bed and buried her face in her hands as her shoulders began to shudder. 	Wyatt walked from the room and met Francine's doctor in the hallway, "We really need to discuss the machine," the doctor said.  

 Wyatt shook his head, "Keep your hands off my wife and that machine until I get back. Don't lay a finger on her," Wyatt warned and the threat was clear in his voice.  

The doctor nodded and walked back down the hall to take care of other patients. He was familiar with angry husbands during these sorts of situations and he knew the man just needed time to come to terms with what was happening.  

---

“Madam Zinga!” Wyatt bellowed as he threw open the door to her store less than an hour later. The door bounced off a shelf and caused objects to come crashing to the floor.

"I'm back here," she replied from the back room where she had brought him back to 'life'. Wyatt stormed across the store, knocking things over as he went and he threw the door to the back room open with so much force that it was nearly ripped off its hinges.  

"Undo what you did!" he demanded and Madam Zinga looked up from the potion she was stirring in a large black cauldron.  

"I do not know what you mean...."  

"Don't play stupid with me!" Wyatt exclaimed as he stormed to her and kicked her black cauldron with all his might, knocking it over and sending its contents splashing across the stone floor.  

"You had better be glad that wasn't a cauldron full of instant frog," Madam Zinga said dryly as the dark red liquid pooled around their feet.  

"You were supposed to kill me," Wyatt growled.  

"I do not recall ever telling you that you were going to be the one that died."  

"Don't play these stupid games with me!" Wyatt exclaimed as he grabbed Madam Zinga by her meaty arm and jerked her toward him, "You knew damn well that's what I thought I was agreeing to when I made that deal! I never would have agreed to this!"  

"That is not my fault. You should have asked more questions," she replied, her yellow eyes narrowing.

"You should have been more honest! I never would have agreed to this! Why would I have wanted her dead when she was the only reason I had for living in the first place!?"

 Madam Zinga shrugged and pulled her arm away from him, "What is done cannot be undone. It is how it is going to be," she said as she rubbed the reddened flesh he'd been gripping.  

"Horse shit! You can undo it and you're going to! Kill me and give Francine her life back."  

Madam Zinga shook her head, "No. You made your choices, Wyatt. You were not satisfied with what you had and now you have to live with the consequences."  

"Do it or I'll kill you." Wyatt threatened and Madam Zinga knew it was no idle threat. She had known Wyatt in many lifetimes and he was a man capable of great love and kindness but also great rage and deadliness. He would try to kill her but she was not a woman who could be killed so easily.  

"I cannot be killed, Wyatt, and it would be wise of you not to threaten me."  

"Fine then I'll kill myself." Wyatt replied as he looked around for a weapon. "Then Francine and I will be together in the hereafter."  

"No, it does not work that way. If you commit suicide your soul will go to a very different place than hers."  

Wyatt growled with frustration and his good fist connected sharply with the stone wall. He relished the pain in his hand since it took away from the pain in his heart.  

"You are evil." he snarled with defeat.  

Madam Zinga shrugged, "I never claimed to be anything else."  

Wyatt didn't know what to do. There had to be something. Someway to get what he wanted.  

"Leave now, Wyatt, and enjoy your life alone," Madam Zinga turned her back and Wyatt was filled with a  rage and desperation so all consuming that it blinded him to anything else. He saw the silver knife on the wall and ran to it. Madam Zinga heard the metal clank and turned. Her yellow eyes widened with shock and fear when Wyatt held the knife in the candlelight and let the flames glint off the blade.  

"I might not be able to kill you but I guarantee this is gonna hurt like hell," he said.  

"Wyatt, no! You have no idea what you hold in your hands!" she exclaimed with fear.  

"Give her back to me!" he bellowed with rage.  

"Wyatt we had a deal," she said shakily.  

"You're scared of this knife?" Wyatt asked as his eyes narrowed.  

"Yes."  

"That's all I need to know," Wyatt replied coldly and then he lunged across the room and Madam Zinga screamed.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Janice was still sitting beside Francine's bed and staring at her best friend wondering what in the world she was going to do without her, when the door to the room opened and closed behind her. She turned to see Wyatt standing there with blood on his shirt.  

"Oh my God! Did you kill her?" she demanded as she jumped to her feet and Wyatt shook his head. "Then where is that blood from?"  

Wyatt held up his hand and showed her his busted up knuckles from punching the stone wall at Madam Zinga's, "I lost my temper."  

"Yeah well I still don't want you here," Janice said as she turned on her heels and crossed her arms over her chest.  

Wyatt shrugged, "Too bad. She's my wife."  

"Her parents are on the way. They should be here within the next hour or so," Janice whispered.  

 Wyatt walked around her and dropped to his knees beside the bed. He ran his hand over Francine's cheek and smiled faintly, "I love you, Franny." He buried his face in her chest and his shirt rode up revealing the handle of the silver knife he had stuck into the waistband of his pants. 	Janice's eyes widened. Wyatt looked up at her, "Please tell her that I love her, okay? I told you I was going to fix this and I did but I won't be around to tell her that so tell her." Wyatt pulled out the knife and handed it to Janice, "And give her this. You guys keep this safe."  

"What are you talking about?" Janice demanded. Wyatt just swallowed hard and pressed a feather light kiss to Francine's motionless mouth. He stood and walked on shaking legs over to the life support machine. He stared at the machine for several long moments and listened to the whooshing and clanking and then he reached for the plug on the wall.  

"Stop!" Janice exclaimed as she lunged for him. She grabbed him by the arm and tried to pull him away but it was like trying to uproot a one hundred year old oak tree.  

"Trust me, Janice. I told you that I fixed it and I did. She's going to be fine."  

"But her parents...."  

"Will get to see her alive and well when they get here."  

"And you?"  

"Will be dead. Just the way it should have been."  

Janice's eyes filled with tears as she shook her head, "No! No, you can't die! Francine loves you!"  

"And I love her more than life itself. So to make sure she gets to live a long life I'm gonna pull this plug and trade my life for hers. Tell her... Tell her I'm sorry I couldn't give her those children she wanted and that I said to find somebody new but no more jerks."  

"Wyatt..." Janice said helplessly and he smiled and laid his hand on her cheek before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.  

"It'll be okay, little sister," Wyatt reached behind him and pulled the plug from the outlet. The machine immediately silenced and Janice watched with anticipation to see if Francine's chest would continue to rise and fall. She was eerily still for a moment and then suddenly she took a breath and in the instant she took that breath, Wyatt collapsed on the ground in a motionless heap.  

Janice ran to the door and threw it open, screaming for a nurse or a doctor.  

---

Madam Zinga knew the instant that Francine's heart began beating on it's own and Wyatt's stopped. She felt a moment of satisfaction but there was a small nagging feeling in the back of her mind. It was her conscience again. Something she couldn't turn off no matter how hard she had tried the last few thousand years.  

She didn't truly care about anyone. A creature as old and powerful as her did not have the need or the use for caring about others. However she did feel a small sense of responsibility for Wyatt and Francine. After all, she had been looking over them for many many lifetimes. Perhaps she had been a bit too harsh in her anger.  

She had given in to Wyatt's demands to switch places with Francine because he had had the knife pressed against her heart. The one knife that could kill her for good. She hadn't been willing to die just to satisfy her temper. But perhaps she should just let them be together. After all their love was obvious and he had been willing to sacrifice himself. She sighed as she lowered her big frame onto the couch and grabbed her cup of bones.  

She decided to consult her bones and see what they wanted her to do.

---

“Impossible. She shouldn’t be breathing…” the doctor muttered with disbelief as he stood at Francine’s bedside twenty minutes after the plug had been pulled.

 Janice waited with baited breath beside the window. Her best friend was coming back to life but Wyatt was currently being taken down to the morgue.  

"Doctor her injuries seem to be..... Well they seem to be gone," one of the nurses added as she took a step away from Francine and made the sign of the cross on her chest.  

"How is this possible?" the doctor gasped as he scratched at his thinning hair.  

"It's a miracle," An older nurse said as she put her hands together and looked up to the ceiling. The nurses quickly unhooked the machines and IV's from Francine and watched her as her eyelids began to flutter.  

"Wyatt..." she moaned as she opened her eyes and sat up quickly. "Where am I?" she exclaimed as her eyes widened with confusion and a bit of fear.  

"Fran, I'm here," Janice said stepping forward. "You're in the hospital. We were in an accident, remember?" she asked softly.  

Francine's brow furrowed as she tried to remember the accident. She raised her hand to her head and felt the bandage that was covering her hair. She wondered why she felt no pain anywhere if she had just been in an accident.  

"I don't understand...." she whispered.  

"You got that phone call and we left the diner..." Janice reminded her, thinking that maybe her friend was having trouble remembering. 	Francine went about pulling the bandages off her head and the doctors and nurses all gasped when they realized her head was flawless and wound free as were her face and arms. In fact she looked like a perfectly healthy woman sitting in the bed instead of like a woman who had been clinically dead twenty minutes ago.  

Suddenly Francine's memory cleared and she jumped from the bed, "Wyatt!" she exclaimed. "Where is my husband? Why isn't he here?" .  

"I don't understand this. You were dead," the doctor said as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.  

Francine swallowed hard, "I was?"  

"Can you guys give us some privacy for a minute so I can talk to her?" Janice asked.  

The nurses and doctor all nodded. They had to call people, write reports and let everyone know about the miracle that had just taken place in room 218. That and they were in no mood to explain to this woman who had just come back from the dead that her husband was down in the morgue.   

"Janice where is Wyatt? Is he okay? Was he hurt bad in his accident?"  

"No... I mean he broke his arm and hit his head but that's not why he's not here," Janice said as she picked at the rough fabric of the hospital blanket.

 Francine pulled the hospital gown around herself and crossed her arms over her chest. Something was very wrong. She could tell it from the way Janice was avoiding her gaze and shifting her feet. Something had to be very wrong for Wyatt to not be here with her.  

"Then where is he? And how did I go from being dead to being perfectly fine in a matter of minutes?" 	

"I would say Madam Zinga had something to do with that," Janice replied still refusing to look at her.  

"With what? Me coming back or Wyatt not being here?"  

"Both."  

"Would you stop being so damn vague! I'm scared to death right now! Where is my husband and what is going on!"  

"Wyatt's dead, Fran."

 Francine heard the words but it took her brain a moment to wrap around them. Her legs seem to disappear beneath her and she fell down hard on the edge of the bed. She barely managed to choke out the word, "How?"  

"That I don't really understand myself," Janice sat on the edge of the bed beside Francine and stared down at their feet. "He lied to us after he came back to life. Madam Zinga didn't just give him life with no strings attached, she attached some pretty major strings to that life. She told him that if he chose to be real that tragedy would end your lives together. He said he assumed that meant he would die and he was willing to pay that price to give you what you wanted.

"Turns out he was wrong, sweetie. It was you that she killed. You were dead, Fran. Life support is all that kept you breathing. Wyatt went ballistic when he found out and when he told me the truth I went ballistic and kicked him out of here. I guess he went to Madam Zinga because when he came back he said he had fixed things and that he was going to unplug your machine but you would be fine."  

Francine's eyes filled with tears as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself in a desperate attempt to hold in her pain.  

"He pulled the plug but the moment you started breathing on your own, he stopped.... I'm sorry." Janice hugged Francine but Francine remained stiff and still. She felt numb. She felt dead. How could Wyatt lie to her about something like that and how could Madam Zinga do this to them? Francine hadn't liked Madam Zinga to begin with. There had been something about the woman that sent off warning bells and now she knew she had been right.  

Her husband was gone. He had died so she could live. That alone was enough to make her forgive him for not telling her the truth before. How could she be angry with someone who sacrificed their life for hers.

Janice pulled Francine tighter against her as Francine's sobs filled the small room. Janice wasn't sure what to do. She had never been much of a comforter but she figured all she could do was hold Francine. There was nothing else she could do and there was nothing she could say that would help Francine overcome this loss. She hadn't just lost her husband, she had lost her soul mate and her great love in hundreds of lives before.  

"He really loved you, Fran. At least you'll have that to hold onto," Janice offered. Francine's sobs grew louder and when the door opened Janice was the only one that noticed.  

Jackson and Gretchen walked in and Gretchen was immediately at the bedside and taking Francine into her arms, "What's going on? Your father and I were told you were very hurt but you look fine. Well not fine because you are crying your eyes out. Please tell us what's wrong dear? Where is Wyatt?"

 Francine just began crying more loudly. Suddenly she covered her mouth and went running for the bathroom. The sound of her being sick reached everyone's ears.  

"Francine is fine physically. She wasn't as sick as everyone thought... They called it a miracle. But Wyatt, he's gone...he died today," Janice said as quietly as she could.  

Francine began screaming Wyatt's name. It wasn't fair that he had died for her. How was she supposed to live with that kind of guilt? He would be alive if not for her. She had killed him!  

"I'll be back," Jackson said. He left the room as Janice and Gretchen tried to get Francine calmed down and back in the bed. Jackson came back in the room with a nurse by his side. The nurse was holding a syringe full of clear liquid but Francine was too caught up in her grief and guilt to notice.  

"A sedative," Jackson explained in a whisper to his wife and Janice. "Just to calm her down for a while. The doctor is afraid she'll have a setback."  

The nurse stuck the needle in Francine's arm and Francine's eyes widened, "What are you doing?!" she exclaimed but before she could get any angrier or say anything else she fell back on the bed and into a deep sleep.

“Janice, what is going on?” Gretchen asked once the nurse had left the room and Francine was tucked into bed. Gretchen sat beside her daughter on the bed and kept smoothing her hand over her hair while Jackson stood at the window and gazed at the dreary day. Janice was sitting in the chair picking at her skirt.

"Wyatt was hurt in an accident at work. Francine and I were rushing here to get to him and some guy ran a light and hit us. Francine was hurt bad and when Wyatt found out he freaked out.... I guess that caused him to have a set back and he died as Francine was waking up."  

Janice had always been a terrible liar and these people knew her better than her own family. It was clear from the expressions on their faces that they weren't buying it.  

Jackson cleared his throat, "She couldn't have gone from being that hurt to being fine. There is something off about her and Wyatt. Not off in a bad way just off as in different. Now we are hip parents. We are open to pretty much anything and the truth won't shock us nearly as much as you think. We know about Francine's gift with spirits and her fascination with ghosts. Wyatt told me once that he'd loved Francine in a hundred lifetimes before. At first I thought he was just being romantic but after seeing them together and seeing how upset my normally well controlled daughter was today; there is more to this story and you are going to tell me."  

"I don't know if I should. Francine should be the one to tell you..."  

"Francine isn't in any shape to tell anyone anything. Please Janice, help us understand what our daughter is going through. Help us understand why she is fine when the doctors told us she wasn't going to make it," Gretchen begged with tears in her eyes.  

Janice sighed and nodded. She told them about her and Francine meeting Wyatt in Vicksburg. She explained to them that Wyatt had been some sort of spirit that only Francine could hear or see. She explained how he had helped Francine get over Gregory and she explained that they soon figured out they could touch and then they found out that they had been together in many many lifetimes before. She explained that they fell madly in love but that Wyatt left because he felt he couldn't give her what she wanted. She explained the deal he made with Madam Zinga and the way Madam Zinga had betrayed him. By the time she was done explaining everything she knew she was sure Francine's parents would have her committed for being crazy.

"Our poor baby," Gretchen said softly as she kissed Francine's cheek, "She'll blame herself for his death of course."  

"If this Madam Zinga is so evil why did she let Wyatt switch places with Francine?" Jackson asked.  

 Janice was surprised. They were taking all of this very well and hadn't accused her of being crazy a single time. Of course she should have expected that from Jackson and Gretchen Ryan. They never did what you expected and were the most open and welcoming people on the planet.  

Janice stood up and walked over to her large oversized purse in the corner. She pulled out the silver knife that Wyatt had given her, "I think it has something to do with this. I'm not sure where Wyatt got it or what it does but he told me to give it to Francine and for us to keep it safe. I think he used this to make Madam Zinga do what he wanted."  

"Well just put it away and do what he said. He obviously loved my daughter and had her best interests at heart. We'll keep her safe so his sacrifice wasn't for nothing," Jackson said with a nod.  

Janice stuck it back in her purse, "Now what do we do?" she asked with a sigh as she sat back down. 	

"Wait for Francine to wake back up and then do whatever we can to ease her pain," Gretchen replied as she curled up in the bed with her daughter.  

Janice nodded but deep down she knew there was nothing they would be able to do. Francine would never be the same and she would never get over this loss.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Madam Zinga made her way through the hospital hallways and down the stairwell to the basement where the morgue was kept. She had altered her appearance so she looked like an average nurse just going about her duties and no one bothered to stop her. The door to the morgue was locked but of course that was not enough to stop someone like her. She said a small incantation and the door opened. She stepped in and closed and locked the door behind her.  

Immediately she dropped the false identity she had concealed herself with and limped over on her cane to the wall of closed shelves. She closed her eyes and focused on Wyatt's energy. Even dead, a person put off enough energy that she could pick up on them.  

She found the door she knew he was behind and pulled it open. She pulled out the shelf he was lying on and stared at his lifeless face. Wyatt really was a handsome man. It was that handsome face that had first gotten Madam Zinga's attention all those hundreds of years ago. He and Francine had won her favor because of how they had been determined to be together despite the fact that he was a mighty war lord's son and she was a poor, peace loving, baker's daughter.  

It had been a tale of blood, death, true love and heart ache and it had been the most excitement that Madam Zinga had seen in a long time. Somewhere along the way Madam Zinga had forgotten about how much she liked these two people. She had been caught up in her own anger and pride. The bones had showed her that much. The cruelty she had shown to Wyatt was not the norm for her.   

She laid her hands on Wyatt's chest and closed her eyes. She began to recite the ancient incantation and she felt the heat growing in her hands as it flowed from her body and into him. If she opened her eyes she knew she would see a bright yellow light flowing between her and Wyatt. She didn't open her eyes though. She found casting spells to seem more mysterious when she kept her eyes closed.  

She felt his heart begin to beat beneath her palm and she opened her eyes and looked at him. His skin had regained it's color and his chest was rising and falling steadily.  

"Wake up, Wyatt. You sleep for long enough," she said as she poked him hard in the shoulder with her cane.  

Wyatt's eyes opened and the first thing he noticed was that he was damn cold. The next thing he notice was that he was lying on a hard metal bed and he was buck naked and the third thing he noticed was that Madam Zinga was standing over him with a smile on her deeply wrinkled and heavily painted face.  

"Francine!" he exclaimed as he sat up quickly. "Dammit if you killed her again after you promised....."  

Madam Zinga cut him off by whacking him in the arm with her cane. Wyatt glared at her and rubbed at his throbbing the best he could with his arm that was still in a cast.   

"She is fine. She is healthy and unharmed just as I promised!" Madam Zinga snapped impatiently, her accent very pronounced in her irritated state. 	Wyatt scratched at his head and pulled the hospital sheet tighter around himself to try to stay warm in the ice cold room, "Then why am I suddenly here with you? The place I was in was a heck of a lot different than here. It was like a paradise."

"Yes, that was the hereafter. It is a wonderful place. Perhaps I should just send you back, yes?"  

Wyatt shook his head roughly, "No. But I do want to know why you brought me back? You didn't seem too keen on letting me live and letting Franny and I be together just a little while ago."  

"I had a change of heart after you nearly cut mine out," Madam Zinga replied with a shrug. "You and 

Franny deserve a long and happy life together and it is not my place to rip you apart.“

"Well that's damn decent of you," Wyatt grumbled, his arm aching. "So is that it? You're going to let us be together now? No strings this time? No threats hanging over us?"  

Madam Zinga took a step away and ran her long fingernails over her tightly pulled back hair, "No strings. You and little Francine will live a long, happy and healthy life and you will die very old and move on the hereafter together for eternity. I have seen this and know it to be the truth."  

Wyatt couldn't help but smile even though he knew not to trust Madam Zinga entirely, "And you won't come at people we are close to in order to get your revenge for what you see as our ungratefulness?" he asked. This time he was going to make sure he covered all the bases and knew every corner of this new 'deal' with this evil woman.  

"I said there were no strings. Do you now call me a liar?"  

Wyatt saw the anger flash in her yellow eyes so he quickly shook his head and held up his hands, "No. No, I'm not calling you a liar. Thank you, Madam Zinga." Wyatt stood up with the sheet wrapped tight around his waist, "Where is Franny? I want to see her."  

"Do you not think you should put some clothes on first?" Madam Zinga asked as she raised her painted on brow.  

Wyatt looked down at himself and shrugged, "I seem to be fresh out of clothes," he replied.  

Madam Zinga held up a big velvet bag that appeared to have been red at one point during it's long life but was now nearly black and peeling from years of use, "Madam Zinga brought clothes for you and some for little Francine. You will have many questions you cannot answer when you walk out of the morgue perfectly healthy."   

Wyatt just shrugged as he took the bag of clothes and looked at the items inside, "I don't care. All that matters to me is that I can be with Francine."

He looked at her expectantly and when she didn't turn around he motioned with his hand for her to do so, "Do you think I could have some privacy?" he asked.  

Madam Zinga grumbled under her breath and said a few words in Russian that Wyatt didn't understand before turning and facing the other wall. Wyatt let the sheet fall to the floor and began to pull on his clothes.  

"You cannot tell anyone that I brought you back to life." Madam Zinga warned.

 Wyatt chuckled, "I know that. Damn woman, they'd lock me in the nut house for sure."  

"I will look like a nurse and come out with you. I will claim that I was passing by the room and I heard a banging so I came in and found you banging on your door and trying to get out. Someone made a mistake and you were not really dead...."  

"Is there anyway you could heal my arm while you're at it?" Wyatt interrupted as he struggled to button and zip his jeans with his cast.  

"No," she replied as she turned back around while he was sliding his shirt over his shoulders. Wyatt realized there was no way he could button all the buttons on his shirt and he gave her a pleading look and she sighed and walked over to button it for him.  

"Why not?" he asked as he fought back shivers of disgust every time her long, dirty fingernails brushed across his skin.  

"Your arm will heal but you will always feel an ache deep inside of it. It will remind you to be happy with what you have and to not wish always for more. It will remind you of the gift that Madam Zinga gave to you." 	Wyatt rolled his eyes but was smart enough to keep his mouth closed. Nothing. He tucked his shirt into his pants once Madam Zinga had finished with the buttons and he was pulling on his boots when she cleared her throat.  

"I will be wanting my knife back of course."

 He shook his head as he bent down and fixed his jean bottoms over the tops of his boots, "Nope."  

"This is not a game, Wyatt," she snapped impatiently.  

He stood up straight, towering over her, and wiped his hands on his thighs, "I know it's not. Trust me, I know." he assured her, his green eyes flashing with left over anger from her earlier betrayal.  

She smoothed her hands over her dark orange velvet dress and then pointed her crooked finger up at his nose, "You will give me my knife."  

"No, I'm going to keep it."

 She snorted with irritation and rapped her cane sharply on the tile floor, "Why?" she demanded.  

"So you'll always have that bit of fear and doubt in the back of your mind. It will remind you of the gift that I gave you when I spared your life and it will also remind you that if you ever so much as look or breathe in Franny's direction again, if you so much as think about Franny with the intention of hurting her and I find out about it, I will use that knife to cut your black heart right out of your chest."  

They stared hard at each other for several long moments, each determined to stare the other one down. Finally Madam Zinga relented and walked toward the door, "Fair enough," she snapped. "Let's get out of here."  	Wyatt blinked several times to make sure he wasn't seeing things when Madam Zinga transformed into a tall leggy nurse in white scrubs and brightly blond hair pulled back right before his eyes. She even had an id badge and all.  

She smiled, "I am beautiful am I not?"

 Wyatt shook his head, "You're damn scary is what you are," he replied.  

She seemed to like that response and she led him from the room. They didn't meet anyone who paid them any attention until they got to the third floor when Francine was. The floor that Wyatt had died on.  

"Oh my God!" one of the nurses exclaimed when she caught sight of him.  

"Isn't he the man that died!?" another whispered in a hushed voice. 	The first nurse nodded just as the doctor rounded the corner and his clipboard clattered to the ground, "What is going on at this hospital today!" he exclaimed. "You people just keep coming back from the dead!" He ran his hand through his thinning hair and shook his head.  

"He wasn't dead to begin with!" Madam Zinga exclaimed and suddenly her accent was that of a deep southern, Georgia born and bred woman, "Someone around here made a huge mistake and I found him fighting to get out of the morgue!"  

"That's not possible," the doctor countered, still not offering to come any closer to them. "I pronounced him dead myself."  

"Then maybe it's time to look into retirement. Now the man is going to go see his wife and then they are going home. You will get them their personal belongings and have their paperwork filed within fifteen minutes or else I will report this hospital's gross negligence to the state board and see that you are shut down!" Madam Zinga exclaimed with an authoritative air in her voice that made her impossible to disobey. "And you are going to keep all of this quiet! The last thing these poor people need is reporters up their asses because of your negligence as a hospital!"   

The nurses and doctor all shared a look. Neither knew what to say or do but all three knew they were going to be going to church come Sunday.  

"Okay sure," the doctor agreed and he bent and picked up his clipboard without taking his eyes off of Wyatt. He threw the nurses a look and they began to scurry around to get everything ready.  

"Let's go to your wife," Madam Zinga said.  

Wyatt shook his head, "I don't want you near her."  

"You don't trust me?" she asked, feigning innocence.  

Wyatt shook his head, "No, ma'am, I don't," he replied honestly.  

"You were always overprotective of little Francine," Madam Zinga mused. She patted Wyatt on the arm and then reached into her bag which looked like a plain leather satchel now and pulled out Francine's clothes. 	She handed them to Wyatt and smiled, "I promise you will have a long and happy life together. As I have said before, I have seen this."  

Wyatt nodded and then quickly started down the long hallway, his boots echoing off the hard tile. He knocked when he got to the door and chewed on the inside of his cheek as it waited for it to be opened.  

When it did open it was Janice standing there and she let out a gasp of shock and then threw her arms around his neck and clung to him, "I don't know how you're here, what happened to bring you back or anything else but thank goodness you're alive!" she exclaimed. 	

Wyatt patted her on the back and then pulled her off of him. "Where is Franny?" he asked.  

Janice moved aside so he could come in and he tipped his head to Jackson and Gretchen and then saw Francine lying still  on the bed with her eyes closed, "Did that bi....." he managed to stop himself just before saying a word that he knew he shouldn't say in front of Francine's mother. "

Nice

lady lie to me? What is wrong with Franny? She promised that she was fine,“ Wyatt was unable to hide the panic creeping into his voice.

 Gretchen rose to her feet, "She is fine physically. She went crazy when she learned you were dead and they had to give her a sedative to calm her down," Gretchen tilted her head, "You were dead weren't you? Really dead this time?"  

Wyatt turned his head quickly and looked at Janice. She grinned sheepishly and shrugged, "I told them the truth about you and Francine. They were pretty cool about it."  

Wyatt nodded and ran his good hand through his hair as he turned back to Gretchen and Jackson, "Yes, ma'am, I was really dead this time."  

Jackson frowned, "Did Madam Zinga change her mind?"  

Wyatt nodded again, "Yes she did."  

"But what's to stop her from changing her mind again and harming you or my daughter?" Jackson asked.  

Wyatt looked at Janice, "Where's the knife?"  

"In my bag." she replied.  

"That knife is my insurance policy," Wyatt assured everyone. "It's the only thing that can kill Madam Zinga and she's pretty darn scared of it. I told her if she so much as breathes in Francine's direction again with the intent to harm her that I'll cut out her black heart with it myself."

 Jackson stepped forward and held out his hand. Wyatt frowned with confusion but shook the mans hand and then Jackson pulled him into a hug, "I just wanted to shake the hand of the man who saved my daughter's life. Thank you for doing what you did. Thank you for giving your life for her. Most father's don't ever think that their little girl marries someone that's good enough for them but I am proud to say that my girl did good. You are a good man."  

"Thank you, sir," Wyatt said feeling just a little awkward. He tried to remember if his own father had ever hugged him as a grown man but he couldn't recall a single time.  

"Yes, thank you, Wyatt," Gretchen agreed, hugging him as well.  

"You all don't have to thank me," Wyatt assured them, "I'd die a hundred times if it meant that Franny got to live."  

"Why don't we give them some privacy?" Jackson said to Gretchen and Janice. "Francine's been starting to stir a little so she'll be up soon." 	The three of them quickly walked out of the room and Wyatt looked at his wife lying in the bed. He crossed the room to her and slid into the bed beside her, draping his arm over her stomach and pressing his face against her temple.  

"Wake up, Franny," he whispered in her ear.  

She moaned and turned in his arms. Her lips brushed against his and he smiled, "Did you bring me coffee?" she asked sleepily, without opening her eyes.  

Wyatt knew she was dreaming, "Not today.... Today you just get me." he replied.  

Suddenly her eyes flew open and she let out a squeak of surprise, "Wyatt?!" she exclaimed.  

He smiled and ran the knuckles of his good hand across her cheek, "Yeah, it's me. Were you expecting someone else?"  

Francine couldn't believe her eyes. Her mind felt foggy still from whatever that nurse had given her but it was clear enough for her to know she wasn't seeing things. This was Wyatt.  

"But Janice said you were dead!" she said as she raised her hand to his face. "You're not dead are you? Are you a spirit again?"  

Wyatt shook his head, "I was... Dead that is.  It seems Madam Zinga had a change of heart. She says we get to have a long and happy life together and she knows it's true because she has seen it."  

"Can we trust her?" Francine asked cautiously and Wyatt thought about the knife.  

"Yeah, we can trust her," he replied. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Franny. I'll never do it again, I promise."  

"I understand why you lied, Wyatt, but if you ever do it again I'll castrate you."  

Wyatt grimaced, "Damn woman, that's harsh."  

 Francine rolled her eyes and then tears began to fill them as she buried her face in his chest and breathed him in, "I can't believe you're back. I was so scared before, Wyatt. I didn't know how I would carry on without you. I don't ever want you to die for me again. Please promise me you won't sacrifice yourself for me again."  

"I can't make you that promise," he replied as he ran his hand through her thick curls and pulled her body closer. "Now Madam Zinga brought you some clothes, the nurses are getting all your papers ready, what do you say we get the heck on outta here and go get started on the rest of those things on your list?"  

"I'm thinking about writing a new list," she replied, her voice muffled against his shirt.  

"Is that right? Will I be a part of the new list?" he asked and he felt her smile.  

"You are the list. I just want to be with you forever... That's it. Anything else good that happens is just a bonus."  

"I love you, Francine Montgomery."  

"I love you too, soldier boy."