The Ghost of a Chance by Natalie Vivien Read Free Book Online Page A

They don't, but
there’s no end to the black abyss within me, the open wound torn when Catherine
left my soul.
    It has been there ever since she
died, but now I feel it with all the trauma of an amputation. Nothing can fill
this hole.
    The heart on the mirror fades, and
I stare dimly at my reflection—pale, serious face; dark wavy hair.   My brown eyes hold no hope.
    "Catherine..."
    I fall back to the floor and weep
until my body runs dry. It doesn't take long.
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    "What you do mean by haunted ?"
    The doubt in Alis' voice makes me
cringe. She thinks I've gone crazy, started hallucinating. Well, I shouldn't
have told her. Not that I told her much, only that there was something eerie
about the cabin, that I thought I felt Catherine's presence there, maybe heard
her voice. When I got back to the house, practically crawling with fatigue, I
felt I had to talk to someone. So when Alis called, it seemed like fate.
    In all honesty, I did fear, for a
fleeting instant, that I might be experiencing some form of mental breakdown, a
disconnect with reality...
    "Oh, I don't know." I
sigh into the receiver. "It was probably a dream, after all. You know, I
sleep so often now, sometimes it's hard to tell whether it's morning or night,
let alone whether or not I'm still sleeping."
    A pause. Then, "I think I
should come over."
    "Don't be silly. It's eleven
in the morning. You're at work! I'm..." I twirl the phone cord around my
hand, tightly, until the skin turns pink. "I'm fine, Alis. Really."
    "You don't sound fine."
    I undo the cord and hold the
receiver with both hands, surprised. "What do I sound like?"
    "Sick, to be honest. Do you
have a cold?"
    "No, I've just been—"
Which lie to tell? I certainly can't say, "I've just been possessed by
Catherine's ghost and cried a river all over the cabin floor, so my throat's a
bit sore and raw, but it's nothing to worry over."
    "I'm just tired," I
finish tiredly. At least that's true.
    "Darcy..." Alis inhales
deeply, exhales. "I don't mean to nag, but you still haven't made an
appointment with that therapist—"
    "I'll call him when we hang
up, I promise."
    "No, you won't. You have no
intention of calling him."
    "Well, why should I talk to a
stranger about the most personal details of my life? It makes no sense."
    "Then talk to me," she
implores. I can picture her too-blue eyes, wide and pleading. "Look, I've
got my break in half an hour. I'll drive out to your place—"
    "That isn't necessary. I told
you, I'm fi—"
    "Then have lunch with me. I'll
pick something up along the way. Vegetarian, of course."
    I nearly smile, but stop myself,
still reluctant for company. "If you'd like," I say noncommittally.
    "I would like to see you.
We're...we're friends, right? It's only natural for friends to have lunch
together."
    There's no denying her. "All
right. See you soon, then."
    "And, Darcy?"
    "Hmm?"
    "Don't go back to the cabin
alone, okay?"
    "Right.   Good-bye." I hang up and wipe my sweaty
palm on the arm of the couch. The phone at the house had been ringing the
moment I returned from the woods. I answered it without thinking. I should've
let the machine pick up. I'm in no mood for conversation, for that caring,
inquisitive gaze.
    Cranky, still shaken from the morning's
events, I walk up the steps, into the bedroom, and stop at the dresser to open
the lid of my jewelry box. There's nothing here that Catherine didn't give
me—necklaces, rings, a pair of flashing opal earrings shaped like stars. Those
were her birthday present to me only last August. One month before she
died.  
    I lift the top section of the
jewelry box out to explore the contents below. Here, I keep my most precious
keepsakes, letters and mementos. With a skipping heart, I unwrap the
heart-shaped rock, place it in my palm, enclose it with cold fingers. Its
weight is good, a comfort to my formerly empty hand. I slip it into the pocket
of my jeans and enjoy the hard pressure of it against my