Sadie's Spirit by CB Samet (best book reader TXT) 📕

Asher turned and looked through the back window, as though something external to the truck had caused the vibration. He got out of the truck and walked toward the front door of his cabin, quickly unlocking it.

He looked back at Sadie. “Are you coming?”

She was still hurt by his tone and anger, but she was also afraid to expend the energy needed in an attempt to open the door. Gripping with her hand and yanking was more complicated that walking and sitting. Perhaps when he had his back to her, she could just ooze through the door.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” He walked back over to the truck and yanked open her door.

She slid her feet to the ground.

After he turned back around and shut the door with an exasperated sigh, she followed him quietly into the cabin.

Asher’s home was a beautiful three-story structure of stunning red and blond Douglas fir. The third floor was a loft. He had a large fireplace and a broad leather couch that made her want to snuggle up close to him in front of a roaring fire, which was absurd since he obviously hated her.

When she looked up, he was staring down at her. The gentle expression he had briefly worn earlier transformed back to irritation.

Yep, hates me.

“I’m going to shower. Help yourself to anything you want for dinner. We’ll talk when I get back.”

She nodded and watched him leave.

Showers.

They had shared some of the most amazing showers together. Skin on skin; his rough hands running over her body. She loved the ever-present hint of smoky fragrance he had brought home from work.

They had been sublime together, but she had ruined the relationship. Rational, pragmatic Sadie had disbelieved the skills he claimed to possess beyond the physical realm.

She wandered around the cabin, inspecting his personal space. He had a few family photos, but no pictures of other women. The living room was decorated with paintings of the Appalachian Trail. She recognized them as places she loved to hike. Hiking. The last thing she had done before she died.

At least that much about my death seems fitting.

Sadie took two steps down into the entertainment room, which contained a large television and two cup-holding recliners. She imagined the two of them lounging and drinking beers. Go Falcons.

At first glance, the cabin was perfect, but on reflection something was missing. It needed a feminine touch: a peace lily in that corner, candles on the shelf there, and decorative figurines over the mantle.

Their relationship had ended because of her narrow-mindedness. During their time apart, she often wondered how to mend things between them but hadn’t known where to start. His ghosts had still stood between them. Literally. Feeling lonely, she had buried herself in work. As her mother put it, she had burned her candle at both ends. Now, the candle had been snuffed out. She had to face up to her past and her mistake in leaving Asher.

She knew that coming to him for help was unfair. The guilt she felt formed a hard lump in her stomach.

Sadie walked out of the room, through the living room, and down the hall. The shower was still running. She wandered into Asher’s bedroom. Perhaps she shouldn’t have, but being a ghost seemed to strip her of certain courteous behaviors, like respecting personal boundaries. The room had wood panels with forest green curtains and matching bed linen. She ran a hand along the fabric, imagining the smooth, cool feel of the sheets and wondering what thread count they were.

“What are you doing?”

He was angry again. She didn’t remember him being angry all the time.

She turned around slowly.

“Are you crying?” He had a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing more.

Sadie turned back round and looked out the window. She could faintly see pine trees standing tall and rigidly straight in the darkness.

She heard him rummaging through his drawers, then dressing.

“You want to tell me what game you’re playing here, Sadie?”

When she turned back, he was wearing blue jeans and a navy T-shirt.

“No games, Asher. I need help.”

“In my bedroom?”

She started to laugh, but realized he was still fuming. She walked past him into the living room, and he followed.

“Better?”

He crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation.

“I came to you for help because I’m a ghost.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Joke’s on me, is it?”

She knew this would be difficult. “I’m telling the truth.”

“You need to get the hell out of my house.”

His words felt like daggers, but she stood her ground—as best as any ghost could.

“I—”

“You left me because of my superstitious ‘mumbo-jumbo,’ remember? You left because you didn’t believe—”

“I was wrong.”

He blinked at her before shaking his head in disbelief. He dragged a hand through his damp, dark hair. “It doesn’t work like this, anyway.”

“You told me. Voices. Flashes of images. Sometimes dreams.”

He sat on the couch looking miserably tortured. “Why are you doing this?”

Sadie knelt at his feet, looked into his eyes, and laid her hand on his. Her hand sank into his flesh. Heat, radiant and energizing as a warm summer sun, coursed through her absent veins. For a moment, she bathed in this unexpected bliss.

Asher recoiled in shock, a mortified expression on his face.

She shrank away from him, crossing her legs as she sat on the floor and tried to look unthreatening.

“You’re a ghost!”

“I’m a ghost. I’m sorry for having doubted you. And I’m sorry for putting you through this. I know you gave up helping ghosts, and I know you want nothing to do with me.”

His dark lashes flickered, and she suspected her words had caused his demons to resurface. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t know. I guess that’s why I’m still here. Maybe I’m supposed to figure that out.” She looked down at the plush rug on the floor. Lifting her hand in and out of it, she watched the fibers as they remained unmoved. When she focused on moving them, they swayed and bent slightly.

He stood. “I can’t help you. You need to move on.”

She gaped at him. “But you’re the only one who can help me.”

“Didn’t you read about my failed case? Isn’t that why you finally called me that first time? Yes? Then you’ll recall that I couldn’t help that child. She was dead by the time they found her.”

Sadie remembered the headlines: “Police Psychic Finds Corpse” and “Psychic Fraud Fails.”

“But I’m already dead.”

He didn’t seem to find that reassuring.

“Do this for me, Asher. I promise I’ll never bother you again.”

He shifted his position on the couch and placed his head in his hands. “I’m sorry for whatever happened to you.”

Sadie waited in silence for the ‘but’; for another round of rejection laced with acrimony and resentment.

“Tell me how it happened,” he said.

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