Dream Lake (Friday Harbor #3)(91)

“That’s … me?” Alex asked in bewilderment, backing away. He looked down at his arms and legs. They weren’t there. Nothing was there. He was invisible. His gaze returned to the two figures on the road … the body Zoë was crouching over. “That’s me,” he said, his emotions racing across the spectrum from joy to despair.

He wanted to cry, he could feel the agony of sorrow, but his eyes remained dry.

“You never get used to grief without tears,” came a quiet voice beside him. “Who’d have thought one of the things you miss the most is crying?”

“Tom.” Alex turned and seized his forearms desperately. He was shocked to be able to feel the texture and strength of a human form. “What do I do now?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Tom stared at him with grim compassion. “All you can do now is watch.”

Alex’s gaze returned compulsively to Zoë. “I love her. I have to be with her.”

“You can’t.”

“Goddamn it, I didn’t get to say good-bye to her!”

“Easy with the language,” Tom said. “You’re not one for hedging your bets, are you?”

“There are things she needs to know. My life can’t be over yet. I didn’t have enough time with her.”

Tom looked exasperated. “What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you, you lunkhead?”

“If there is a God, I’d like to tell Him to—”

“Shut up.” The ghost shook free of him impatiently. “I just heard something.”

All Alex could hear was Zoë’s broken crooning.

Tom stared distractedly up at the sky, wandering away a couple of steps.

“What are you doing?” Alex demanded.

“Someone’s trying to tell me something. I hear a voice. A couple of voices.”

“What are they saying?”

“If you would just shut your piehole long enough for me to hear them, I’ll—” His attention returned to the sky. “Okay, I get it. Yes. Uh-huh. Right.” After a moment, he looked at Alex. “They’re letting me help you.”

“Who’s they?”

“Not sure. But they said we only have about fifteen seconds left before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“Quiet. They just told me how to fix this, and I’m trying to remember everything.”

“Fix what? Fix me?”

“Don’t distract me. Shut up and go stand next to the body.”

The body. His body. Alex wanted so damn badly to be alive, to inhabit that broken carbon shell even for a few moments. Just long enough to tell her what she meant to him. Standing over the prone form, he saw his own still face. Zoë’s hand caressed his motionless jaw, her fingers trembling against his parted lips. The sounds she made were like the fabric of a soul being torn apart. He would never have dreamed anyone could feel such grief for him.

Precious seconds were ticking away.

“Tom,” he said desperately, his gaze locked on Zoë. “Nothing’s happening.”

“I’ll take care of my part of this.” The ghost was at his side. “You do your part.”

“Which is?”

“Focus on Zoë. Tell her what you’d say if you had a couple of extra minutes with her. Pretend she can hear you.”

Alex knelt over her, longing to stroke her hair and dry her tears. But he couldn’t hold her. He couldn’t feel or smell or kiss her. All he could do was love her. “I’m so sorry,” he said urgently. “I don’t want to leave you. I love you, Zoë. You were the one miracle I believed in. You made up for all the rest of it. I wish you could hear me. I wish you could know that.” He felt dizzy, felt himself fragmenting, the bonds of spiritual matter dissolving. The remnants of consciousness slipped between the blurred margins of life and afterlife. His last few seconds were slipping away. Words were no longer possible. Only thoughts were left, moving outward like a row of toppling dominoes. No matter what I become … I will love you. No force of heaven or hell could stop me, and damn anyone who tries. I will love you forever.

Everything went dark, the stars extinguished as the sky collapsed and the world folded in on itself.

“Blaspheming to the end,” Alex heard someone say dryly. “Can’t say I was surprised.”

Alex recognized Tom’s voice. He felt like he’d been encased in lead, his limbs too heavy to move. And then it hit him: he was in a body. He had a physical form.

“Wasn’t easy to get you in there,” Tom informed him. “Like trying to put toothpaste back in the tube.”

Gathering sensations in a frantic rush, Alex perceived that he was lying on asphalt, his neck angled uncomfortably because of the way Zoë was clutching his head against her chest. His lungs felt like they were about to burst.

“Try breathing,” Tom suggested.

Alex pulled in a rush of cool, blessed air, blinked his eyes open, and began to move.

Zoë let out a startled cry. “Alex!” Her shaking hands moved over him. “But … you were … your chest was all … there was no way you could have …” Overcome, she covered her mouth with one hand, staring at him in terrified wonder.