Page 6 of My Blind Date is a Ghost

Finally, I emerge in the clearing. Without the trees, the light is a little brighter. I let my eyes adjust and see a small stone ahead of me. I walk toward it and see that words have been watched into the stone.

It is a tombstone. I look around and realize that I'm in a cemetery. I gasp and take a step backward. I lose my feet and fall back, landing hard on the frozen ground. I roll over and scramble away, back to the woods.

No, I think. Not a cemetery. I'm not dead. I won't be dead again!

What am I doing here? How did I get here? Is it possible I was dug up? Grave robbing is a terribly common practice. Could my family have thought I was dead and buried me, only for me to be woken up when someone tried to rob my grave? But then, why was I in the woods? I wiggle my fingers on my left hand and feel my gold wedding band. So, I wasn't robbed.

I shake my head. I don't care. I don't know what happened, I only know I have to get out of here. I push myself to my feet and run back into the woods, in the opposite direction of the cemetery. I can't see very well, so I keep my hands in front of me to block any limbs that might thrash my face. In the distance, I hear a wolf howl. A wolf, or a werewolf? My heart thumps hard in warning, in memory of the man who attacked me. Jeremiah Holland. Are the werewolves out here? Are they after me? I can feel hot tears roll down my cheeks.

Finally, I see a light ahead. My steps slow as I think about the light I saw just before I woke up. Do I really want to keep going toward it? Do I want to go toward the light? Do I want to move on? I shake my head. I'm being silly. I'm alive. I'm not heading toward the other side, but toward safety. Toward civilization.

My feet hit hard ground. I can hear my heels echo in my ears. I look down. Is that…pavement? What...what year?

I scream and put my arms in front of my face as I hear the blaring of a car horn and see bright headlights barreling toward me.

CHAPTER 4

The car stops so close to my legs, I can feel the heat of the engine through my dress. I take a shaky step back, my breath ragged and my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I lower my arms, but all I can see are the bright headlights.

"Are you all right?" a voice asks me. I feel a rough grip on my arm, shaking me. "I almost hit you. What are you doing?"

I look up, but I can't see who it is in the bright light. But then I realize that, whoever it is, he touched me. I can feel his hand on my arm. He's touching me. I'm solid. My hand quivers as I lower it and touch his arm in return. I can feel the rough material of his jacket. I felt the heat from the car. I'm not imagining things. I am very, very real.

"You...you..." I slap my hand over my mouth. It feels so very strange to hear my own voice after so long. To feel my vocal cords vibrate in my throat. My breath warms my fingers, which are growing cold from the winter air. Tears start to well in my eyes. Tears of joy, relief, disbelief. How am I here? How can I possibly be alive? Why did I suffer in that purgatory for so long?

"Ma'am?" the man says. "Are you all right? Are you injured?"

I shake my head. "No. I'm...I'm wonderful." I smile and start to laugh. I'm alive!

"Are you sure, ma'am?" he asks. "You seem a bit...disoriented."

"You can see me," I say, more a statement than a question.

"Good thing," he says. "If I hadn't, you'd be kissing the pavement right now."

I laugh again. I turn away from him and place both of my hands on the hood of the car to warm them. "I had no idea that cars were so hot," I say. I remember the first time I saw a car, a "horseless carriage" I heard them referred to at first. I was not the only person who stared at it in wide-eyed shock. It was thrilling to be able to see such technological progress.

"Umm... Are you sure you're all right, ma'am," the man says. "Is there somewhere I can take you?"

"I think I might like to walk," I say, taking a step back. I wanted to see the stars again, feel the gravel under my feet. Experienced everything I'd been denied for the last two hundred years. But as I turn, I lose my footing and nearly topple over. The man grabs my arms and catches me, holding me tightly. I can smell his cologne and the spiciness of his natural scent. His grip is strong and his body warm. I want to melt into him. I have not known the touch, the embrace of a man in so long. I suddenly crave it. I want it all. I look up, almost expecting to see the face of my husband, but it is not him.

It is Detective Dawson.

I try to pull away, suddenly embarrassed. "Detective!" I say unwittingly.

He is so shocked, he releases me. "Do I know you?"

"I...I..." I start to turn away, feeling dizzy, nauseous. I'm suddenly tired and my stomach growls. I'm hungry. I'm hungry! "I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over me."

"That's alright, ma'am," he says, gripping my elbow lightly. "Why don't we get back in the car and turn the heat on? It's cold out and you aren't exactly dressed for this weather."

I nod, unsure of what to say. I must have woken up in the woods surrounding Mystic Cove, but why? Who did this to me? He helps me into his car, then he runs around to the other side and jumps in. He messes with the dials and I laugh as a blast of hot air hits my face. I put my hands in front of the vents, just absorbing the heat.

"It feels wonderful," I say.

Detective Dawson chuckles and puts the car in drive. It feels so strange to be riding in a moving car as a living person. I've been in cars before, but like everything else, I couldn't feel the sensation of moving.

"Are you injured?" the detective asks.

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