Wishful Illusions

"You really should talk to her." Trisha told her son, while mixing dough on the rough kitchen surface, but he paid her no mind. In fact, Jace's eyes shifted from one corner of the room to the other, then back, confusion visible on his fine chiseled face.

Exasperated, she stopped her work and glared at him. "What?"

"You don't feel that?" Jace's blue eyes rested on his mothers warm, oval face showing concern and confusion.

"No. What is it?" Trisha wiped the hair off her forehead with the back of her hand, listening for things rather than feeling.

"Someone is watching us." He said at last as a small shiver ran down his spine. A gust of wind stirred the blonde curls on his face and a loud echo of a book closing reached his ears.

Then, silence.

~ * ~

Jace sat in the corner booth of a local tavern, nursing a beer, unaware of his surroundings. The waitress, too busy to catch a breath, glanced in his direction, soaking in the sight of him. The soft, full lips, ocean blue eyes, a three day shadow showing on his cheeks. A sight to behold. Her eyes tried to make a connection with his, but he paid her no mind.

What was that, he kept thinking. Still wondering about the previous day and the feeling of being watched, he couldn't shake it off. It had warmed his body, had made the small hairs on his neck rise, and he felt... What?!

Just as he decided to forget those thoughts, he felt something again. A gentle caress across his cheek, stirring the fire within him and he shuddered. Against his own will, he closed his eyes, letting the invisible touch take over his vulnerable body. Fingers, yes, fingers slid alongside his jaw and down his throat. An involuntary groan rumbled deep in his chest. His eyes flew open. Whatever or whoever it was, he wanted to touch it back, to make love to it.

Absurd, he thought, and shook his head to rid himself of such ridiculous thoughts. It's no one. Nothing. And yet, he wanted to explore the feeling, the touch, and wanted to know where it came from.

Finishing his beer in one long gulp, he tossed some coins on the table and exited the tavern without a second glance.

~ * ~

Two weeks went by, all in a blur, but Jace felt more his normal self. No one watched him nor touched him with invisible hands. As much as it pleased him, he wanted to remember it, to write it down if nothing else.

Sitting in his house with dimmed lights, he lit a cigarette, took a hearty drag, then placed it in the ashtray. He exhaled and grabbed a pen and paper.

"Think, Jace, think!" He said as he stared at the blank paper.

His rough-skinned fingers took hold of the pen as he scribbled down one word. Ghost. Even before he finished it, he knew it wasn't the right answer. With a frown on his face, he crossed it out and heard a soft laughter. Feminine, yes, but it sounded far away and it made him think of a thousand crystals being stirred by a gentle wind.

"It's you again, isn't it?" There wasn't any sound, but he felt a nod.

"You're not a ghost, are you?" This time he heard a whiskey voice say the word No.

"Should I be afraid?"

Nothing. For a moment he thought he imagined the whole thing. Perhaps he was going crazy, he thought, but then she spoke again. A simple no, yet it carried hesitation.

"Well, you've got nothing to worry about. I can't touch you. You, on the other hand..." His heart beat sped up and his chest tightened at the thought of their previous yet invisible encounter. She, whoever she was, had stirred the fire inside him and he hadn't been able to calm the flames.

Soft, deep laugh reached him.

"You can read thoughts, I see. Care to share yours with me?" Jace felt the same gust of wind stir his hair, then felt warm lips on his own. Even while thinking he'd gone completely insane, he closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation. However short-lived, he felt the blood rush to his head. "I want to touch you," he whispered into the silence.

"Who are you," he dared to ask before a knock on his door interrupted him. Rolling his eyes, he looked skyward, "Hold that thought," and went to the door to answer it.

"Jace, my friend, are you alive?!"

"Brandon. I'm sorry, I haven't been feeling good," Jace lied. Or did he, he thought.

"Yeah, I heard. You talk often to yourself?" Brandon pushed his way past Jace and into the living room. "Ah, don't tell me. You've decided to become a writer. The ladies are waiting out there," he pointed toward the closed nearby window. "Unless you're in search of the right one." He laughed at his own joke.

A small stab into his belly made Jace laugh. The invisible one sure knew how to get his attention. He still didn't know where exactly she resided but he planned to find out - as soon as he got rid of his friend.

"Look. There's some kind of celebration going on down at the tavern and I'm not leaving here until you get changed and come with me. Understood?" Making himself comfortable in the chair Jace occupied recently, Brandon glanced at the paper. "Ghosts, huh," then shook his head and took a drag of the cigarette which still sat in the ashtray.

Jace looked skyward with an apologetic look on his face. A whisper of a voice reached him, saying it's alright, followed by a caress on his cheek, before the already familiar wind stirred his hair and he knew she was gone.

~ * ~

Trisha prepared a feast for her family. Harold's birthday hadn't been celebrated often due to his refusal, but turning sixty, he didn't have any other choice but to give in to his wife's wishes. Family, friends, and neighbors gathered in the backyard, he observed with distaste. Being an introvert, Harry liked his privacy. Trish insisted. Her excuse had been to get Jace introduced to the young women in their neighborhood in hopes that he might like one of them.

Harry snorted. "Good luck with that." Far as he could see, Jace sat next to his older brother, heads close together as they discussed business as usual. Even Tom had tried getting Jace to go out with some of his wife's friends, but Jace had refused. He wasn't ready to settle down just yet, he'd said. Might as well, Harry thought. No point in pushing the matter. "Tell that to Trish, old man. Tell that to her," he chuckled to himself, downed the last of his single malt and left his study to do the tedious task of mingling.

~ * ~

"Miranda! Miranda, darling," Trisha beamed, then hugged the voluptuous girl. A few inches taller than Trisha, Miranda's green eyes looked like green meadows on a sunny day, yet her jet black hair covering her face, shed darkness on such beauty. Her figure, something out of a magazine, attracted glances from people all around her, and Trish hoped Jace would notice her as well. How could he not, she thought. One cannot overlook a beauty like this one.

"Mrs. Cooper! How nice to see you. Thank you for inviting me." Perfect, white teeth flashed for a second as she smiled. "I brought a gift for Harry. I mean, Mr. Cooper." She blushed.

"Nonsense, darling. Harry doesn't need anything. I invited you to meet my son, Jace." She glanced around the yard to find the person she spoke of. "Ah. There he is, sitting with Tom. Be a lamb and take these drinks to them." A mischievous look on her face. "Then linger a bit, will ya?" With a wink, she pushed Miranda in the direction of the many tables and headed back into the kitchen.

~ * ~

He felt her. It's as if a camera had zoomed in on him and at that precise moment, her presence was known to him. Her eyes, he felt, took all of him in, from head to toe and against his will, his heart skipped a beat. Oh, boy, he thought, and yet excitement engulfed him. Lifting his eyes and looking away from his brother, Jace stared at the green pastures in Miranda's eyes.

No. No, it's not her, he told himself.

His heart sank, and yet he knew she watched him. The air had stirred. She must be here!

Expectantly, he lifted his eyebrows as Miranda approached them.

"Your mother sent these for you, gentlemen." Not the husky voice he was familiar with, but sweet nonetheless. She placed the tray on the table and seated herself next to Jace without waiting for an invitation. Her red skirt lifted above her knees, making her legs stretch into infinity. He pulled his gaze back to her face.

He could have sworn he heard a derisive snort, but knew better than to say something.

"I'm Miranda," she smiled, extending her hand in Jace's direction. He took it and shook hands with her.

She struck a conversation, chatting freely with Tom, trying to get Jace involved, but his mind reeled with questions for another person. In the end, he excused himself and headed for the house. Once inside, he avoided the few guests mingling around and headed upstairs to his old bedroom. Shutting the door behind him, he leaned against it and let out the breath he held.

"Are you here?" Unsure where to look, his eyes darted around the empty room, his question greeted with silence. Definitely losing my mind, he thought, and laughed nervously.

I'm here.

That raspy voice, he thought, and was surprised to hear a soft chuckle. You can hear my thoughts! Who are you? Why can't I see you? I want to...

Easy, tiger. I read your thoughts, but... I don't know how you can hear mine.

"But, who are you?!" Emotions played tricks on Jace and he couldn't contain the words in his mind. He had to speak them aloud.

Just a girl. A woman. Then, a slow laugh.

"That much I can tell." The corner of his lip curved upward, and he heard a soft sigh. "You like my smile?" He raised an eyebrow as he looked up at the ceiling at no particular spot.

Yes.

"You can see me? Why can't I see you?" Again, thoughts flooded Jace's mind.

Can't see you... I can picture you. There's a portrait of you on the... A picture of you.

He felt her hesitation. She didn't answer his question fully, but for right now, it had to do, he guessed.

Making sure his legs held him upright, he made his way to his old bed and lay on it, hands behind his head as he stretched leisurely. Once comfortable, he started his silent interrogation. Questions filled his mind as he tried to calm himself down and take it one step at a time. The rest of the night Jace spent talking to the girl whom only he could hear in his head.

~ * ~

To be continued...