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For the lost and forgotten ones. And the believers who hold on tight.
I’ve wondered if I worked hard enough at my bruised and broken bits, if I could be shiny again, too. I’ve wondered if anyone might ever see me as something precious.
“Why aren’t you haunting a nice gal in Ireland, then?” “I don’t know. This is the location I’ve been assigned.” I scratch at my jaw. “Probably because you Americans need more haunting than most.”
Sometimes it’s best to make yourself as small as possible so you can go unnoticed. Even if going unnoticed breaks your heart.
She was wearing a garment constructed by the devil, designed specifically to bring men to their knees.
A dream. It was a dream. For the first time in over a century, I had a dream. And I dreamed of Harriet.
I’m so tired of people treating me like I’m dispensable, like my feelings don’t matter. That if the reality of me doesn’t line up with their expectations, I’m not worth their time or effort.
I’m not very good at demanding things from people, even worse at holding my ground. I’m usually the first to apologize, even if I don’t need to.
Because I’ve always been able to make my own happiness when the people around me decide I’m not worth the trouble.
“You’re the first thing in a hundred years to make me feel anything at all, Harriet York, and I don’t think that’s an accident.”
“I think you’re bringing me back to life, Harriet.”
By me, I think wistfully, and this ache in my chest. This … longing I can’t seem to get rid of. I haven’t wanted anything in decades, but I think I want you.
Christ. She looks like something carved out of marble. Like something that deserves to be worshipped.
It’s so easy, watching like this, to pretend that she’s another person. But that girl is still a part of me. Her hurts are my hurts, buried deep beneath the bandages I’ve made for myself.
“Aye. Boundless,” he says again. “I could spend an eternity studying you and still not know what you might do next. You give so much of yourself, so freely. You’re … wild with your attentions. Miraculous. I’ve seen so many lives, Harriet, but I’ve never seen someone live like you.”
She doesn’t even know how well she takes care of me. With her easy smiles and careful touches. Her too-soft heart and that smart mouth. She’s made me feel more alive in a handful of weeks than I have in decades. She’s lit up all of my darkest corners.
He grins at me, wide and beaming, so unrestrained it makes my breath catch. Nolan is so controlled with his reactions—so reserved with his affections—that this sort of smile makes me feel like I’ve been handed something precious. One of the treasures I keep at my store.
I think about you all day long. I fall into a sleep I don’t need and I dream of you. Of your smile, and your laugh, and the way your mouth tastes. The sounds you make. I wake up wondering where you are, how you’re feeling, and I hope—” His eyes search mine. “I hope you’re thinking of me. You make me hope, Harriet. You make me want. I am haunted by you.”
“Do not mistake me for a good man. I am not here out of some misplaced sense of honor or duty. I demand your attention and I desire your affection.”
“Then I guess I’m sensitive,” I reply. “I’m sensitive, and I’m softhearted, and I’m emotional, and I’m probably delicate, too. I cry during sad commercials and I say sorry all the time—most of the time for reasons I can’t articulate. I never wanted to be a lawyer. I hate arguing. This conversation right now is killing me because I just want to give you what you want from me until this feeling in the middle of my chest goes away.”
“So, yes. I care too much. I’ve always cared too much. I’m irresponsible. I eat cake for breakfast. I feed my neighbor’s cat and my Band-Aids usually have some sort of Disney princess on them. I’m colorful and sentimental, and I—I like these things about myself.
Of course I had to fall in love with a ghost. I’ve always loved the broken and forgotten things best.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I love it.” “You don’t have to love it.” “I do. I love it,” I say again. “It’s mine now. Stop hating on my scarf.”
“She’s a mess,” I answer, voice breaking. “Color everywhere. A laugh that’s just a shade too loud. Painfully addicted to candy canes.” I pause. “As lovely on the inside as she is on the outside.”
“You’ve been waiting, Nolan.” Something uncharacteristically tender and soft transforms Isabella’s harsh features. “You’ve been waiting for Harriet. To exist in the same time as her. Your souls were together in the beginning, and so they shall be in the end.”
She is made for you, as you are made for her.”
You are the one I’ve been waiting for. You were never supposed to move me forward, you were supposed to hold me here. Keep me tethered.” He presses his forehead to mine. “It was always supposed to be you.”
He came from another time to love me, and I’ve been waiting to love him in return. That’s what this hollow ache in my chest has been about. We just had to find each other.
“I’ll be with you for every tomorrow you allow, and I suspect a time after that, too.”
So, thank you for picking up this book. I hope it brought you something you needed. I hope that if you feel like a lost and forgotten thing, that you realize how beautiful and special you truly are. And I hope that if you feel like you’ve been left waiting, that there’s beauty in that, too. That maybe, the thing you’ve been searching for is right around the corner.
