“A few hours ago. It took me a while to drive here. You live in the middle of nowhere, do you realize that?” Her voice was warm, full of joy, the cuts on her face completely healed.
He gave a short nod, still stunned by her presence. She’d flown all the way from Los Angeles to see him. It was what he’d hoped for, but never believed would happen.
A thought speared his heart. “You’ve met Gran?” he asked.
“Yes. We had a nice chat. She’s a character. She reminds me of Aunt Lucy—very blunt.”
“Everything went . . . well?” he asked, his throat suddenly dry. He let loose of one of her hands and took a quick sip of beer.
“Very well. She’s okay with us, provided we’re okay with each other.”
“Ah . . . good.” He sighed heavily and he kissed her palms. They smelled like her perfume. The sounds of the pub receded. “We’ll need to find you a place to stay. Gran’s only got one spare bedroom, and while you may have passed muster with her, there are the neighbors to contend with.” He kissed her hands again and then released them. “Some of them are a bit old-fashioned.”
“Problem solved. I have a room at a B-and-B.” She leaned toward him again and he followed suit. “One with a big comfy bed and a fireplace.”
He knew his smile had to look lecherous, but he couldn’t stop it.
“Well, now. Perhaps I should let Gran know I’ll be a bit late tonight.”
“No need. She says she’ll see us tomorrow morning and no sooner.”
Did she just say . . . ? “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Besides, the goddesses have been replaced by something new.”
“With what?”
“Best to find out in person,” she said, grinning mischievously.
O’Fallon downed the remainder of the Beamish in a single gulp and was out of the booth like an arrow shot from a crossbow.
“Let’s go, my lady. I need to officially welcome you to Ireland.”
* * *
The trail of clothes led from the door to the bed, his and hers intermingled, tossed aside in frank haste. There had been few words spoken, but reams had been said. They had cried out together as one, souls united, bodies entwined.
Still nestled deep inside his lover, O’Fallon tipped her chin up and gazed into those blue depths. How close he’d come to losing her, losing himself.
Tell her, you fool. Just tell her.
“Gráim thú,” he whispered. I love you.
He waited, wondering how much Irish she understood.
Her eyes widened. “Tá grá agam duit,” she said, more formally. I love you.
He moved his hand down and caressed the closest nipple, marveling at the silver harp that hung from it.
“The harp is the symbol of Ireland,” he said. “Did you know that?”
“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed,” she said in a teasing tone.
He was moved by the gesture. “You’re enslaving my heart with everything you do, Gavenia,” he said.
“You’ve done the same to me.”
He puzzled on that. “How so?”
“You thought enough to bring me a rose, one that gave me light in the middle of the dark. You fought to stay at the warehouse for as long as they’d let you. You never gave up on me. I’m not used to man who cares that much, Doug.”
“Well, you’d best get used to it. I’m yours, for good or ill.”
He tilted her face toward his and kissed her nose. Then his eyes drifted down to her breasts. “Maybe we can find you some parrots.” She gave him a mock glare. “Or maybe little handcuffs . . .”
“We’ll get those for you,” she said, reaching up and pinching his closest breast.
He winced and shook his head. “Oh, no. I don’t think so. They’d look better on you.”
“I think it’s time for more harp music,” she said, deflecting the conversation.
“Really? So soon?” As Gavenia nodded, she raked her nails down his side, causing him to take a sharp intake of breath. “So how many movements are in this harp concerto of yours?”
She gave him a smoldering smile. “Don’t know. It’s a work in progress.”
“Those are the best kind.”
The End
Acknowledgements
Many folks had a part in this story over the years and this is but a few of them to whom I owe my thanks.
My endless gratitude and hugs to Aiodhan, a dear friend and wise Wiccan who help me ensure Gavenia’s magic was as it should be.
To my critique partners Nanette Littlestone, Dwain Herndon and Aarti Nayar for giving me sold solid input on the story. Also my thanks to Berta Platas, Carla Fredd, Maureen Hardegree and Michele Roper, my current critique partners, who came into this project later on, but contributed nonetheless.
My freelance editor, Kathryn Fernquist Hinds, is not only a copy editing genius but saved this author’s butt when it came to Celtic goddesses and Irish folklore.
My thanks to artist Jeannie Rausch created the amazing cover, and my spouse, Harold, for all the technical support behind the scenes.
Now, finally, TANGLED SOULS is ready!
Author's Notes
This story had a long gestation, some ten years in the making. During that time I have returned to the manuscript when my schedule permitted, though the story is pretty much as you see it even back at the beginning. Gavenia and O’Fallon have always waited patiently for their tale to be told and now it’s their moment in the sun.
The original idea for the story came from an article about a lightworker who helps the dead across the veil. Back in 1983 she and other like-minded folks were in the middle of a ritual when the spirits of dead soldiers walked through the walls of their room, drawn by their light. Shaken by the experience, the woman pointed the men toward the veil and they crossed over.
It was only later that they realized that the exact moment when the soldiers appeared was when the Marine barracks was bombed in Beirut, leaving countless dead. That story has remained with me for years and I decided to write a book about a lightworker and a private detective who learn to accept the gifts they’ve been given and, along the way, find each other. And now TANGLED SOULS is ready for the world. Hope you enjoy it.
Jana Oliver
June 2013
About the Author
A resident of Atlanta, Georgia, Jana Oliver admits a fascination with all things mysterious, usually laced with a touch of the supernatural. An eclectic person who has traveled the world, she loves to research urban legends and spooky tales.
When not writing, she enjoys Irish music, Cornish fudge and good Scottish whisky.
Find Jana at:
Website: www.JanaOliver.com
Facebook: facebook.com/JanaOliver
Twitter: @CrazyAuthorGirl
Time Rovers Series
by Jana Oliver
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award-winning Time Rovers Series
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Sojourn
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Madman’s Dance
The Demon Trappers Series
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The Demon Trapper’s Daughter
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Forgiven
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The Demon Trappers: Forsaken
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