Lost Loves...

“Megan.”

She didn’t jump when she heard her name called out. It was a voice she knew only too well. She turned and looked at him. Woodrow Hogue. Tall. Solid. Real. Her gaze went to the stray lock of sandy blond hair that sat unruly against his forehead. It made him look boyish and vulnerable. Like the first day I met him. It was a crazy thought to have. Two days ago she would have thought she was losing her mind mooning over a man she barely knew. But it was more than that. I know him. Somehow.

“I remember that as much as you and I have craved no less from you either.”

That startled Megan. That a stranger had feelings for her was exciting and unnerving. Rarely did a man elicit that response from her. She wanted to ask a million questions. She needed explanations and validation for how she felt. What did Woodrow feel? Was he as mixed up as she was? “Reading another’s mind isn’t polite.” Her eyes were hungry to take in every aspect of him from the tip of his sandy blond had down the fine cut of his old fashioned suit to the strong thighs she longed to touch. Megan once more played with her piercing as her mind flashed back to a time of naked limbs and hot bodies straining to get closer.

He smiled. “But when you know someone so well it’s instinctual.”

Yes. It was. And that smile. It made her catch her breath in wonder. She wanted to smile in kind but there were so many unanswered questions. “Where have you been?”

“So many places. Fate has a habit of toying with me.”

“Why?” What were they caught up in? Two days ago she was worried about paying the rent. Now she needed to know why she was drawn to him and what he wanted from her.

His gaze was direct. “You know why.”

“You talk in riddles. I met you two days ago. I have no idea how your mind works.”

“Don’t you?”

To admit she did would indicate that there was more to what she was feeling than she wanted to acknowledge. She wasn’t scared of feeling. She just liked to know what was going on and not flounder as she was now. That wasn’t like her. She was strong, capable and independent. Her outlook on life matched her Gothic lifestyle. She believed deeply in the dark, sensual side of life. She chose to live boldly without fear or favor. Yet now, an edge of alarm had pushed into her neat, ordered world and Megan wasn’t sure how to deal with it. “Woodrow—”

He came over to where she sat and held out his hand to her. “You said yes to me before I left.”

She had. Though what she had been saying yes to Megan hadn’t been sure. All she knew was to have denied him would have been denying herself. Megan looked at the long, slim fingers before her. She longed to feel them once more against her skin. “I was—” Megan stopped and looked at him. What am I? Who am I?

“What? Dazzled? Confused? Unsure?” Woodrow supplied the words she couldn’t. “That’s not the woman I know.”

The eyes she looked into where soft with understanding. She felt at home with him. “Do you know me?” How was that possible when she suddenly felt like a stranger to herself? Maybe I always have. Megan realized that now more than ever. It wasn’t just the clothes she wore. She had always felt herself different to others. Until now. This man gave her a sense of belonging she never wanted to admit to needing.

“I know you as well as I know myself.” Woodrow sat down beside her on the bed. He rested one hand on her fishnet thigh.

The sensation from his touch made Megan gasp in recognition that he had done so before and much more intimately. And I had welcomed it. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

Megan didn’t know how to explain it. She was at home but not at home with him. “I can’t. Not yet. I have too many questions.”

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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 décor 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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