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Friday, 23 December 2011

Soul mates...




She jumped at the intensity in his gaze. The word ‘yes’ came instantly to mind. Megan had no idea what she would have been saying yes to, knowing only that it was the right thing to say to this man. Megan lifted her hand from his arm. Normally she never had problems dealing with anyone. But this man? Everything about him affected her senses. Touching him made it both better and worse. “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Death is just a door to another world just as interesting as the one we left.”

That was true. Megan wasn’t religious in any way but she believed there was more than just the world she knew. “Death interests you?”

“As I believe it does you,” Woodrow responded. “You’re a Goth. You understand the dark and the needs of one soul to commune with another, be it here or in the afterlife.”

Megan’s mouth dropped open. Yes, she did believe that but no one had summed it up quite like that. “You’re a very unusual man, Woodrow.” She liked the sound of his name on her lips. And the flash of vulnerability she saw in his eyes when she called him by name? It made her long to hold him close to her and ease whatever pain he was feeling.

“And you’re an unusual woman, Megan. I believe we are well matched.”

Soul mates. Megan jumped at that thought. Snap out of it, woman! The old world atmosphere and the soft soulfulness of the man had caught her. It was nothing more than atmosphere she was reacting to. “So, er—your life story.” It was time to get back on track.

“Yes.”

Megan looked around. “Where’s your computer?” She saw him smile. Megan was not surprised. She knew what the grin meant. “You don’t have one do you?” Modern technology would seem out of place in this room.

“The written word should be just that. Pen to paper and a person’s thoughts.” Woodrow motioned her to a desk. The surface was neatly ordered with paper, a quill pen and ink.

“You are really living your world. The clothes, the d├ęcor and the ink.” Megan picked up the fine cut glass ink well. It was beautiful and meant to be as was everything else in his home.

“You dress as a Goth. You like that lifestyle.”

Megan smiled at what Woodrow was implying. “Yes but I check my email and answer my cell phone.”

“But in your heart Megan, you still crave a simple life.”

She opened her mouth to say no, but realized yes, she did. “You’re very spooky.”

Woodrow laughed out loud at that. “And you’re perfectly charming.” He pulled out a chair at the desk.

Megan sat down. When Woodrow sat beside her it felt right. She picked up one of the pages. The writing was like the note, old fashioned and spidery. One paragraph caught her eye.

After my beloved died I felt I could not go on. I wanted to lie down in the grave beside her, press my body to hers and gasp my last against her sweet, still body.

The words made her want to cry and Megan was not the emotional sort. “You were married?”

“I still am. Marriage is more than just a joining of lives. It’s a melding of soul mates.”

Her heart beat furiously. It was everything Megan believed and wanted. “I’m sorry for your loss.” To hear a man to admitting to loving his wife so deeply and continuously was beautiful.

“Why?”

“You must miss her.”

Woodrow’s mouth curved into a soft smile. “I know I will be with her one day.”

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