For a moment, the wind had a deep, raspy voice. Good, maybe someone would shut a window against the sound or the chill. She didn’t care as long as she got attention from the the Inn’s occupants. She pulled harder and faster, desperation fueling her. If her haunting was going to get noticed, she couldn’t waste the prime opportunity provided by nature.
“Mmmiiiinnne now. Mmmiiiinnne now.” She sang the words low, the hum coursing through her whole body.
A chill snaked through her veins.
“Mmmmiiiiinnnnnee,” she chanted the word, letting the reverberations warm her from the inside out. “Mmmiiiiinnnneee.”
She shook the lanterns harder, a tremor wracking her and her chin trembling. Outside the lighthouse, the night was quiet. The wind stopped. She was the only noisemaker around. The silence covered her like a heavy blanket. She had experienced the same oppression once before in the attic with Christopher. Had she predicted her doom that day? Was THIS her ghost origin story?
She wasn’t sure how long she kept up the work. Lost in her old fears and new worries, she entered an almost meditative state. When the lanterns smashed, and the fire sparked, she was unsure how to explain the events. Could an LED get hot enough for a blaze? Had she witnessed a dangerous, deadly miracle?
The flames caught on the sheer window treatments at the top of the lighthouse.
She had triple-checked everything. While she was, admittedly, a bit unreliable in the long run, she was meticulous and detail-oriented in the short term. Schemes demanded her full attention. But it didn’t matter. She refused to go up in smoke. Haunting the fake lighthouse for eternity? No, thank you. She’d be too out of sight, out of mind for any meaningful encounters.
She grabbed her phone off the mattress and raced to the door. Smoke filled the tower now. She coughed, choking on the acrid air, grabbed the handle, and rushed outside.
She raced forward, unseeing. Her steps were loud and heavy as she ran barefoot over the wooden bridge.
Barreling ahead, she didn’t look up. The second she slammed into a solid chest, muscular arms wrapping around her, she collapsed. She didn’t need to see to know. She was in his arms, and she was home.
* * *
The rescue was a fluke.
Christopher gripped her upper arms. She clung to him like she would drown in the lake if she didn’t. If he clutched any tighter, he’d bruise her. He couldn’t bring himself to let go.
Christopher shouldn’t have spotted the flames. Well past his usual quitting time, he stayed in his office, facing the lake and finishing a few emails. From the corner of his eye, a spark of light had flashed. Turning toward the windows, he hadn’t seen anything else. And then a burst of orange flame.
He had raced out of the attic down the tight staircase to the employee exit on the main floor. He grabbed the fire extinguisher off the mount near the door, one of many he had set up around the Inn. Fire terrified him. Since watching a well-meaning but harshly delivered cartoon PSA about not getting trapped inside a burning building, he only gave one element the power to scare him.
As he had pounded the grass under his feet, all he could think was, what if he’d gone to bed? In his studio apartment, the window facing the lake was up high in his bathroom. He’d have slept soundly. What would have happened to her?
He reached the bridge, his heartbeat picking up pace until he thought his boiling blood would poison him. He couldn’t lose her for real. Whether by the hand of fate or a human accident, the reason he jumped to action didn’t matter. Whatever the cause, he was on his way to the rescue.Because she matters more than anyone else in my life.
A world without Ashley Hale in it was sad and gray. He knew from first-hand experience. But if he thought she was gone for good? He’d never recover.
The door to the lighthouse had opened, slamming against the side of the building.
He had frozen in place. As if time slowed, he stood, waiting.
Her nightgown billowed behind her, like an angel. As she came closer, her blue eyes widened, looking hot and wild with fear, he never pictured her terrified. This wasn’t a dream come true.
He held open his arms, and she crashed into him.
She had thrown her arms around his neck, sagging against his chest as if it was the most natural thing to do.
He wanted to wrap her tight in a hug. He needed to squeeze her and hold her and never let her go. She belonged in his arms. She’d hurtled back into him, and he wasn’t letting her slip away again.
But he couldn’t. His clammy palms slipped down her arms. He couldn’t grip her. A fire raged behind her. He had to stop trying to embrace her and save the lighthouse. He dropped his heavy arms to his sides.
“Stay here,” he murmured into her ear, catching the smell of her lavender shampoo. The scent haunted him for years. He could never find the exact bottle and brand. Or maybe she was the secret ingredient.
She stepped away.
The chill snaked his skin at the sudden loss of her warmth. He’d think about that later. Right now, he focused. He jogged over the bridge and stopped several feet from the open doorway. Flames licked the wooden frame. The burst of oxygen from the open door fueled the blaze. He’d be too late to save the building if he didn't stop the fire now. He pulled the pin from the fire extinguisher and depressed the handle, spraying the foaming detergent in a wide arc. Was he making enough progress? Time lost meaning as he focused on the current situation, his famous myopia activating.
The white foam coated everything, but still, he saw sparks in the back. Coughing, he moved forward and into the doorway. The still smoky air hung heavy, irritating his lungs. He sprayed inside the tower. Miraculously, he extinguished the last spark as he emptied the canister.
