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CHAPTER13
What a night, and now all he wanted to do was close his eyes and dream about Emily. Turning the lights out, he snuggled beneath the covers and thought about the night. It had been so tempting to lay her back on the porch and do her right there beneath the stars.
The memory of their night together filled his mind and his hand reached down between his legs.
The smell of lavender filled the air and he jerked away. Just when he was going to enjoy himself, his mind started to play tricks on him. Not good. Not good at all.
“Tanner,” the voice called as she appeared.
“Do you have to come unannounced into a man’s bedroom?”
The woman laughed. “Yes, I do. We need to talk.”
“My mind must be really sick. I’m thinking about Emily and you appear. Something is wrong.”
The apparition hovered over his bed. Was she real? Really?
“Yes, there is,” she said. “She’s over in her cabin crying while she’s telling me about her dead husband. She should be telling that to you.”
“I’ve asked and she wouldn’t tell me,” he said. “Why am I talking to you about it. You’re just a figment of my overactive mind. Now let me get some sleep.”
“Not until I’m finished speaking to you.”
“If I can somehow make you appear, I wish I knew how to make you disappear,” he said, giving up and watching the apparition or whatever it was appear before him. If it was truly a ghost, that would be really kind of creepy.
The thing, whatever it was, shook her head. “You have no control over me. None. I’m not part of your PT problem. I’m agrandmother problem.”
“PTSD,” he corrected her. “Agrandmother problem?”
Why was she making sense all of a sudden? Why did he feel like she really was real? Travis had seen her. Desiree said she was real. Tucker believed in her. Was he the only one who refused to admit the truth?
“Damn, you really are a ghost,” he said.
“Finally, we’re making progress,” she said. “Now, you and Emily…she says you’re the problem.”
“Me?” he exclaimed. “What does she want from me? We could be friends if she’d agree.”
“You two are the most exasperating couple I’ve dealt with. She says you don’t want a relationship. Is that true?”
How strange that they were both confiding in a ghost. And the problem was he wanted to be more than friends but feared his PTSD. No one would ever understand that problem. Sometimes he didn’t think the counselors he saw at the VA hospital understood what went on in his head.
“Tanner,” the ghost said, her voice rising.
There was no way a ghost over one hundred years old was going to understand why he felt the way he did.
“Yes, it’s true,” he admitted.
“Why?”
“I’m sure if you’ve spoken to Emily, she told you,” he said, knowing he was in trouble. Knowing she would never understand.
“I want to hear your reasoning. Not her interpretation of what you said.”
Oh great. When did ghosts learn to do psychoanalysis? Even his doctor at the VA didn’t psychoanalyze him or at least he didn’t think he did.
How much should he tell her and how much, given her age, could she understand?
“Do you understand what PTSD is?”
