Spirit of the Revolution by Debbie Peterson Read Free Book Online Page A

Her ghost? Wait just a darn minute—
    Once again, Jo sat down in a quest to sort the whole thing out. The fact he remained in her presence and witnessed her inner struggle attested to the reality of ghosts. She supposed she could feel grateful she hadn’t lost her mind. She peeked over and contemplated the ruggedly handsome man standing across from her, a fact that eased the situation tremendously. If he looked like some diseased zombie from a horror movie, she would’ve already evacuated the house—probably even the state of Pennsylvania.
    A thousand questions swirled around inside her head. Questions like, why did he look so solid, and how could he speak aloud when he had no tangible body and couldn’t breathe air? She could even see the stubble on his finely chiseled chin.
    “How are you doing that?” she finally blurted out.
    “Doing?” Her ghost appeared puzzled over the question.
    “What I mean—” Jo took a deep breath and began again. “I can hear you. I see you as if you’re a living, breathing person. You look solid for heaven’s sake. How can you do that when you have no real body?”
    A slight, crooked grin appeared as he shrugged. “Practice, my lady, decade after decade of dedicated practice. I couldn’t always express myself in this manner, I assure you.”
    The deep dimples appearing on either side of his cheeks briefly distracted her line of thinking. No, don’t look at that, she silently commanded. She needed to stay focused—
    Decade after decade did he just say? Just how long had he roamed this house all by himself. Who was he? The spirit had yet to budge from his position. She shook her head and released a short breath. “I find it a little unsettling to have you standing there, not moving a muscle, you know.”
    Jo laughed a bit as she caught the slight rise of her ghost’s eyebrows over the ridiculous comment. “Sorry, please, I would feel much better if you sat down. If—if you can, that is.”
    The spirit answered with a slight bow of his head, and then complied with her request. Jo found herself staring as he walked, blinked, and sat down as if he still possessed a solid body. Shouldn’t ghosts float above the floor, glide, maybe even hover a little? Of course, witnessing a ghost flying through the air would probably scare the tar right out of her, and she could only imagine what it would do to Nancy who freaked over the sight of a hideous bug. Jo settled at once on her sister’s upcoming visit. A ghost in the house would cause quite a stir—an unpleasant stir if Bob had anything to say about it. Nancy would probably never come back. She’d bar the kids from coming too.
    “Feel free to ask your questions, Jolena, I can see you have them. Above all else, I don’t want you to fear me, since I’m assuming neither of us plans to vacate the premises anytime soon,” he said.
    “Am I the only one who can see and hear you?” she asked.
    “At the moment, yes.” He settled deeper into the chair without going through the cushions, rested his elbows atop the arms of the chair, and clasped his hands.
    Silly thing to say. That much is already obvious. “I mean—I guess what I’m asking is, if anyone else entered this room, could they see you as well?”
    “If I wished it,” her ghost said.
    “Then, if you wished it, could I still see and hear you without anyone else in the room knowing it?”
    “Yes. You needn’t worry about your visitors. I’ll make sure they don’t see or hear me if that’s your desire,” he said.
    “Just who are you? Please. I would like to know.” The question encompassed everything at once. Yet, Jo would find satisfaction in knowing his name—thinking of him as “her ghost,” unnerved her.
    “My name is Mathias McGregor. I am the firstborn son of Adam and Tamar Davies McGregor,” he said. “Late of Pennsylvania.”
    “And, this was your house? You were born here?” Jo had so many questions she didn’t know in what order to ask