Page 6 of Mend My Soul (Shattered Hearts of Carolina Ghost Psychic Mystery Romance #2)

Chapter Six

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RAE LEE

The breeze blows off of the harbor, pushing the unruly lock of hair that won’t ever stay in place into my eyes.

Really, for all the trouble it causes me, I should find a new hairstyle, but short is easy during the summer when it’s humid. Plus, when it stays put, I love how sassy this cut is.

I hug myself and sigh contentedly, breathing in the ocean air, and tickled pink by the beauty of the fountain as the sun sets.

The lights refract off the water, pouring from the curled pineapple stem down to the diamond shapes, and lapping against the sides.

The teeming water is like white noise, eliminating all other sounds, relaxing me the way a weekend getaway should.

There are some moments I’d like to get trapped in. This is one, erasing all of my cares, is one of them.

“I think we should come back here someday,” I say to Anson.

“I do, too.” His voice comes from behind.

When he doesn’t wrap his arms around me like I expect, I twist. That’s when I realize all of the activity around the fountain has stopped.

The spirit energy that’s followed me around all day has disappeared.

The other tourists hide themselves near the palm trees, quietly watching us.

When I see Anson down on one knee, the sound of the fountain dissipates into the background, and all I hear is him.

“Maybe ten or even fifty years from now?” he asks, making my heart race.

Between his outstretched fingers he holds a thick platinum band.

“Raleigh, it sounds cliché to say I was a skeptic turned believer. And when you turned me, you turned me. Heart and soul. This year with you has taught me life isn’t always what it seems. That I have to have the courage to look beyond what’s in front of my face.

Above all, you’ve taught me to see the world from a new perspective.

That’s made me not only a better cop, but a better man.

Except, if I look any further for the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, what I’ll miss out on is you. Be my wife.”

I hold my shaking hand forward, and he slides the ring on. An emerald cut perches horizontally with two tapered diamonds on either side. I adore the bezel setting. It’s unlikely to snag on anything.

But moreover, this ring is exactly what I’d have chosen. So, I know Anson’s been listening to me ramble while I sit at the kitchen table, working on jewelry designs. In my experience, the most loving thing a person can do is listen.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll absolutely marry you,” I reply, tearing up.

He rises, crushing me to his chest, and spinning me around.

“I love you so much, Rae Lee,” he says, kissing me when my feet touch the ground.

There’s gentle clapping all around us, a shrill whistle, and congratulatory shouts as the crowd that gathered moves along with their evening.

I tuck my nose, admiring the ring and hiding my blush. “This is so beautiful, Anson. Thank you so much. I can’t believe you did this in front of so many people.”

He tips my chin. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you, Raleigh. But I want everyone to know I’m proud that Rae Lee Chatham chose me forever.”

“For eternity.” I one-up him, cupping his stubbled cheeks, and holding his forehead to mine.

“You better believe it, or I’m the next person haunting you.”

I laugh, hugging him tightly. “I love you.”

“Obviously, Layla,” I say when Anson asks me if I want a maid of honor.

From the moment we buckled in this morning to return home in time for Grant’s baseball game, we’ve been discussing what kind of wedding we want.

We’re leaning toward another nice vacation on the heels of a no-frills ceremony.

It’s a matter of when, since we left the hotel hours ago, and back-to-back trips feel decadent.

We’ll deal with where to go when we have the timing squared away.

“Which means we need to include Julian, which is fine.” Anson adds Layla’s better half to the guest list.

Because we live in Layla & Julian’s house, Anson and he get along well.

“And Chaim?” He’s not only Anson’s boss, but his closest friend. “Plus, his wife. It only makes sense if he’s standing up for you. What about your sisters, your parents, my parents, Delores, and Grant? Do you think they’ll feel left out?” I shift in my seat, crossing my legs.

“Is this wedding getting bigger than we bargained for? You said you were more comfortable with small. Intimate. You know, it can just be us and the Justice of the Peace?”

“I’d like someone there to share the memory with.”

“Well, I’ll be there.”

“I should hope so!” I grab his knee. “We could just elope?”

Anson shrugs.

He went out of his way this weekend to make the proposal special.

It’s his wedding too. I can’t make this everything about me.

I know his question about Layla was leading.

He wants to include his family somehow, but without the extravagance and back-breaking cost of his sisters’ church weddings, when we can put the money to better use on a honeymoon or a new home.

“Aren’t you the same woman who is worried someone will feel left out? How about the six of us at City Hall, and then supper with family and whomever else we’d like to invite?” Anson suggests the private function room at Mark-39.

“Oh, I like that idea! Then we can bypass the dry chicken or rubbery beef, and everyone can order what they’d like to eat.”

“So, it’s settled. When are you asking Layla?”

“Is as soon as we get home too soon?” I fidget in my seat again.

“Excited?” Anson asks.

“Yes. But we’ve also been on the road a long time. I need to use the restroom.” I chuckle. “Do you think we can pull over?”

“That gas station we stopped at on the way down is around the bend.”

“Thank goodness, and thank you.” I let out a relieved breath.

This time, Anson waits in the car at the service station. I offer to get him coffee. There are a few houses tucked nearby, but for the most part we’re in the middle of cornfields.

Based on how clean the store looks, I’m sure the owner does good business. However, most convenience stores have a policy that restrooms are for paying customers. I won’t be the person who skips out on buying something.

The woman I met in the parking lot notices me as I get out of the car.

She hustles, approaching me. Needing to relieve my bulging bladder, I really can’t stop to talk to her right now.

On top of that, I’ve concentrated so hard on keeping spirits out today.

Even the dead hotel manager, when he pestered the concierge to congratulate Anson and me.

I’m relaxed from the trip, and the happiest I can remember being.

Aren’t I allowed to float in the joy bubble over getting engaged for a little while longer?

My fiancé’s not wrapped up, thinking about the cases waiting on his desk at work.

Just because dead people talk to me doesn’t seem like a legitimate reason why my feet have to hit the ground running before Monday.

I dart past the huddled man and into the store, thrilled—yes, thrilled!—the restroom sign is clearly marked.

After I take care of business and wash my hands, I stop and doctor a coffee for Anson. The brew in a paper cup will cool off fast, so I forgo the bottled water. I don’t want a drink because stopping again means it will take longer to get home and share our good news with friends.

The pregnant girl behind the register rings me up. Her name tag reads Amara. As she counts out the change, I can’t help thinking she’s as pretty as Layla, and wondering if she’s having a boy or a girl. I think a girl would grow up to look just like her.

I slide the extra cash I have from breaking a larger bill at the Charleston City Market across the counter. Behind me, the door chimes and someone walks in whom the clerk pays attention to.

“I’m almost finished, Sidney.” Amara says to a man about her age who slips behind the register.

Sidney kisses the top of her head, and I get a wash of emotion from the two of them. I sense he cares deeply for her and for her baby. Despite being in this together, her love for him isn’t romantic.

I hold my palm up to accept the coins and receipt.

She reaches out, and I glimpse a thin red line of interconnected hearts tattooed above her hand. The chain is unbroken. One upside down, one right side up, the hearts encircle her wrist like a bracelet.

Her fingertips graze my skin. As soon as we touch, a sweat breaks out under my nose. My entire body jolts.

Blinking, I try to shake the vision away.

“I hope it’s a girl,” I say.

No, don’t do this, please! I think.

My knees go weak as my eyes land on the terrified woman behind the counter. Spots dot my vision, and I’m falling away from her. Down, down, down until I’m dragged under.