My Soul Immortal (16 page)

“But she does.”

“What?” His eyes snap to me.

“Leah remembers moments, snapshots from the past.”

“Not possible,” Artagan says flatly. “A soul immortal gets the sense of déjà vu, but little else.”

“Possible or not, she does remember those moments. She paints them.”

Artagan’s focus drifts. His thumb and forefinger stroke his stubbled chin. “Strange. So it truly has happened again,” he whispers, still thinking.

“Again?”

“It’s happened once before that I know of,” says Artagan. “An immortal named Kemisi fell in love with a soul immortal man named Amun. They married and lived out the remainder of the man’s natural life together. When his soul moved on to its next body, his memories of Kemisi were so strong that he searched her out. A complete abnormality. Unfortunately, war called, and the man died young. After the man’s second death, Kemisi hoped his memories would bring him to her again. She waited, but he never returned. After years of searching for him, desperation forced her to ask for my help. I found him for her. She went to visit him. He didn’t even recognize her—all his memories were lost. The man who houses that soul today lives in Duluth, Minnesota, with his wife and three children. Fate’s a fickle bitch and rarely grants happy endings, so enjoy the time you’re given.” He smiles, but joviality doesn’t touch his eyes.

After ordering another scotch, Artagan glances at his watch. “She was waiting for you, wasn’t she?”

“What time is it?” I fumble for my cell phone.

“Almost ten after nine.”

I jump to my feet. “I’m late. I have to go. She’ll think I’m not coming.”

A hint of jealousy flares in those sapphire eyes. “Enjoy your time, Jack. We’ll see each other again, I’m sure.”

I rush out into the night, thoughts swimming around my head in loops. I start to run. My heart accelerates into a steady thrum.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Leah stands alone outside the gallery, her arms wrapped around her slender frame as if she’s holding herself together. She tenses, and worry lines crease her forehead. Her eyes dash away every time they find me.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say.

She gives me a quick nod and glance before looking away again. I catch a glimpse of her teeth biting into her lower lip before a thick curtain of golden hair slides between us, hiding her face from my view.

“We need to talk,” she says, her voice cracking on the last word.

“Yes, we do.” I smile, but I doubt she can see my expression through her shield of wavy strands.

“We should go to my place so we can have some privacy.”

Puzzled by Leah’s unexpected behavior, I’m slow to respond. I want to brush her hair from her eyes, scoop her into my arms, and tell her everything, but that would be the wrong move right now. Her reaction to my revelation could take so many forms. “That would be best,” I say.

Leah swallows hard. She peers out from behind the curtain, studying me apprehensively. The lingering color drains from her face. Her reaction propels my feet forward, but she shies away, hiding behind her hair again. Then, almost in a trance, she turns and walks in the direction of her dorm.

I follow then quicken my pace to walk alongside her.

A block from her dormitory, Leah finally speaks again. “Grady said you wouldn’t come back. I convinced him to leave, telling him I needed some time to myself. This isn’t a conversation I wanted him to be part of in case you did.”

“Understandable.” I give her a sideward glance. “But I said I would.”

“Too much of a gentleman to leave a girl waiting.” She sniffs.

Is she crying?
“Leah?”

I reach out and place my hand on the small of her back. She shrugs away. “Please, don’t.”

I restrain my hands at my sides.

“When you leave…” She sighs. “I don’t want this to be any harder than it already is.”

Pieces fall into place. A sense of relief rushes over me. The knots in my shoulders uncoil, taking the tension throughout my body with them.
She thinks I’m here to say good-bye.

“Leah, I’m not—”

“Please, not here.”

Against instinct, I obey.

Leah’s small room is packed with two single beds and matching dressers pressed against opposite walls. The stark-white wall boasts a patchwork of brightly colored reproductions of Van Gogh, Gauguin, and Chagall. A square bedside table sits under the tall window, which offers a full view of the street. In the farthest corner is a bookcase made of four cinderblocks and two boards. Most of the books are Victorian or earlier with a few modern classics tossed in. Once the door is closed securely behind us, I can’t wait any longer. I step to her, winding my arms around her waist. At first, she attempts to yank away. I clasp her tightly with one hand, while the other catches her chin. I hold her face firmly until her gaze turns to me.

“I…”
How to start?
I stare into her confused eyes. I’ve waited so long, but I would wait an eternity for this moment. For her. It’s worth every second of pain and heartache. No words I choose would ever be sufficient.
Maybe you’re in a dream, a beautiful, but cruel hoax
, Doubt murmurs from my depths. I close my eyes, half expecting her to be gone when I reopen them. But she’s still here. I smile.

Leah studies me, her chest heaving. Finally, she whispers, “You’re not upset? You don’t think I’m crazy, too?”

I chuckle when I hear my fears coming from her lips. “Of course I don’t. You’re the sanest of us all.”

A hint of surprise spreads across her face, washing away her demeanor of nervous regret. “Are you sure?”

I pull her body to mine and press my mouth against hers. She pauses for a second before she wraps her arms around me. We kiss with our eyes open. Warmth explodes within me and crashes over me, awaking my spirit from a dark and cold slumber. Our lips dance together in a familiar way with growing intensity. I kiss along her arched neck, drawing in the scent of her sweet skin. She lets out a breathy moan.

“I’ve missed you,” I whisper, brushing her velvety skin with my lips. Hauling in a deep breath, I pull away before I’m completely undone, and respectability flies out the window.

She leans her cheek against my chest. “Well, that was unexpected. I thought you were here to dump me.”

I laugh and kiss the top of her head. Her hair smells like springtime and apples—a difference from her predecessor.

“No. I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper. “By the way, I do remember. I remember every moment.”

She draws away so she can see my face. “Every moment?”

I nod.

“Then you’ve dreamt about us more than I have. I just have pieces—a collage of a life together.”

I take a sobering breath to prepare for what needs to come next. “Because I lived it. Every beautiful, painful moment of it.”

Leah asks nothing, but her eyes question each word I’ve said.

My stomach twists. “I am a little over one hundred and seventy years old. I was born on January second, 1841, in Lidcombe, England. My body hasn’t aged beyond twenty, and I can’t die.”

She picks at her fingernails. Then swallowing hard, she shuts her eyes. The vise around my stomach squeezes.

“From what I know, I was born this way.” I grin wryly, taking her hand and entwining my fingers with hers.

Leah’s eyes open, flitting to the floor. “Then you and I are different.”

“Yes.”

She shifts away and crosses her arms. “What does that make me?”

“Maybe you should sit down first.”

“I’m fine. What am I?” Her chin raises a fraction of an inch. Her eyes meet mine. Her determination betrays nothing.

“I think it would be best if you sit.”

“Tell me!”

“Well, you’re stubborn like her.” I huff. “You’re a soul immortal.”

“What’s that?” she rasps.

I explain everything to the best of my ability. I consider leaving out our connection to Death, but then I decide Leah has the right to know everything. However, when talking about her dreams, I choose to not to use Artagan’s words—
strange
and
abnormal
. She thinks of herself as a freak already, and I know how that feels. I’m not going to corroborate the notion, because she’s not. She’s beautiful just the way she is.

Her legs wobble and struggle to hold up her slight frame. I fear she might faint, so I wrap my arm around her waist for support.

“I’m okay. Just give me a minute.” She brings a shaky hand to her mouth then walks to the bed and sits down.

“Are you sure?”

Leah nods. “I always knew I was different.” Her voice trails off, and she stares at the floor.

Afraid she might be going into shock, I grab the purple comforter from the foot of the bed and wrap it around her shoulders.

She looks up, a hint of a smile on her face. “Thanks. You think I’m going into shock or something, don’t you?”

“Aren’t you? I mean, it would be a normal reaction under the circumstances.”

Her smile broadens. “You’re right. I probably should be. How can I explain this?” She pauses. “I’ve wondered if I might be crazy for years. It made me second-guess what I knew here.” She pats her chest. “Today, I found out I was right. You exist. My past life existed. It’s… freeing.”

I sit next to her and take her hand. “Yes, it is.”

“I do have some questions, though.”

“I’m sure. I’ll do my best.”

“Don’t muddy the answers. Tell me straight, okay?”

I nod.

“So, someday I’ll die, but you won’t?”

The thought makes me flinch. “Yes.”

“But my soul will stay on earth, waiting for another body, correct?”

“Yes.” Another flinch.

Leah stares out the window. I wait, tracing circles on the back of her hand with my thumb. Her thoughtful expression remains unchanged.

When she speaks again, her voice remains steady. “So, I was Lydia, the girl from the story? And you’re the man she loved?”

“Yes. And yes.”

“So, I’m her?” she asks again, stiffly.

“Partly. But you have different life experiences than she had. The eyes are the same, though.” I reach up and brush strands of hair away from her eyes, so I can see her face. I don’t want any shield or curtain between us now.

Leah leans her head against my shoulder. “Can you tell me about our past life? I don’t remember much. Just bits here and pieces there.”

“Of course.” I tell her everything. How, at first, all she was to me was William’s annoying little sister. How I saw her in a different light after returning home from school on holiday, then we fell in love. Being able to be my complete self with someone is amazing, but frightening as well. The instinct to hide what I am runs deep.

“You loved her so completely,” she says, her voice curt.

I realize what my stories must sound like to Leah—less like reliving memories of a past together and more like hearing about my past with an ex. She isn’t Lydia, and I need to remember that. Leah has her own set of memories, which don’t include horse-drawn carriages, lavish ball gowns, or Victorian traditions.

“Yes, I loved Lydia Ashford, but a lot has happened to me since then. It changed me. I’m a far different man than I was then. The man sitting before you is in love with someone else.”

The moisture in Leah’s eyes rolls down her cheeks in narrow, steady streams. I move closer, wrapping my arms around her. She continues to cry. When the tears slow, she looks up at me. Her voice is raspy. “I was thinking the reason you wanted to be with me was because I looked like her.”

“It’s something so much more. The first time I saw you, it was like…” I pause. “I hadn’t felt anything for so long. First, I was confused, of course. I thought you were Lydia’s ghost sent to torment me. Then at your birthday celebration, I concluded the likeness was because of your ancestry, nothing more, but I was still drawn to you, not knowing it was because you began to heal me. Ever since Lydia’s death, I’ve been forced to relive memory after memory, never able to elude my past. The day at the beach when my mind drifted away from you—do you remember?”

She nods.

“I was having a memory. You had an effect on it, tamed my reaction. That has never happened before. Since then, all my past scars don’t seem to matter anymore. But even before that, I knew I loved you, Leah Winters.”

Her lips form a smile. She looks at me from under her feathery lashes and whispers, “Good, because I love you, too.”

My throat seizes my breath. An uncontrollable smile stretches across my face. Waves of happiness roll over me as if I’ve returned home after a long journey. I never believed I would hear those words spoken to me again. I close my eyes, and my lips revisit hers. Her fingers play with the tiny hairs at the scruff of my neck, leaving a hot tingle in their wake. Leah’s tongue traces the curvature of my lower lips before slipping into my month. My eyes snap open, and I give a short chuckle. “Times have definitely changed.”

She looks up sheepishly.

“I’m not complaining.” I haul in breaths to even the tempo of my heart.

Leah laughs and curls herself into my chest, cuddling in. “So in the coffee shop, you weren’t sick, were you?”

“No.” I grin.

“What were you thinking?”

“I thought you were repulsed.”

“Repulsed by you?”

“You weren’t?” I tease, moving her hair to her other shoulder and running my lips along the soft skin of her jawline.

“No. Repulsion wasn’t what I felt.” She grins. “You’d been haunting my dreams for years. It was the only place I was able to love you. Seeing you in the flesh was a bit… hmmm, overwhelming.”

I laugh. “Overwhelmed?” I hadn’t seen that reaction coming. I wonder what else I’ve gotten wrong. I sigh and lean my chin against the top of her head. “I’m glad we figured this out before I did something stupid, like showing you what I am the way my sister found out.”

“Stupid?”

I cringe. I said too much. “Never mind.”

“No, I want to know.” She sits up straight.

I mutter curses under my breath.

“Tell me, please. I won’t be mad, whatever it is. I promise.”

Don’t bet on it
. Leah leans against my shoulder and begins to kiss up the side of my neck. I can feel my will caving. She doesn’t play fair.