A soft pop sounded, and a pinprick of light, like a star pushing its way through a stormy cloud, pierced the middle wall and caused Celeste to turn back. It grew a bit, then a little more, until the opening was the size of a dime. Compared to the darkness around it, the radiance was exquisite, and Celeste suddenly longed to touch it. She stepped toward it, then the voices to her right screamed, and she stopped.

Rapid footsteps suddenly echoed in the confines of the room, and then a little girl bolted out of thin air and ran toward the light. Most certainly a ghost, she glowed faintly at first, but then her dress-no, her entire body-absorbed the light, until Celeste had to shield her eyes from the child’s brilliance. Two pigtails of straight brown hair were capped in hot-pink bows that matched the trim on her yellow dress.

“That’s it!” She clapped her hands together until the light grew into a door-size opening that illuminated the entire span of the room. “I’m going on in. Tell Prissy, my sister, to follow me. She’s coming. Tell her where I am, okay?”

“Prissy?” Celeste asked, but the girl was too focused on the light to hear.

“Granny’s in there. She’s waiting for me. Granny, I’m coming! Oh wow, I smell cookies. Chocolate oatmeal, my favorite!” She took another step, then merged with the gleaming light.

“Wait!” Celeste shouted at the same moment that the wall absorbed the light and the girl.

She stepped forward and placed her palm where the light had been. Cold, smooth stone met her touch. She’d seen the lighted doorway before, right after the accident, but she hadn’t entered it that time either. That time, another young ghost had stopped her from passing through. The girl, Chloe, needed help crossing over, and Celeste hadn’t wanted to leave her behind, so she’d ignored the beckoning light and helped Chloe find her way.

That was the only time that the pathway to the left had opened, and Celeste had met Dax.

Dax. As long as she was here, in this strange middle place, she could remember him, think of him, want him. She could see the hazel eyes that had touched her soul, the sexy mouth that seemed always on the verge of a smile, those dark brown waves that framed a face full of sincerity, of kindness, and a touch of mischievousness that had made Celeste’s entire body tingle.

They hadn’t spoken of it before, that amazing chemistry that zinged between them, because they’d both expected her to cross over with Chloe. Plus, he was in the land of the living…and she…wasn’t.

But she didn’t cross with Chloe, and she still wasn’t sure why not. Instead of entering the light, she’d gone down that path toward the voices, but that was all she recalled. And on several occasions, she’d returned here, to this middle room, in the hopes of seeing Dax again, or of finally entering the light.

Neither had happened.

Before, she didn’t try to start a relationship with Dax, didn’t even tell him how she felt. Why start something that they couldn’t finish? But now she realized that that may have been her last chance to really be with a man, to be with Dax. And she’d blown it.

She wanted another shot.

Celeste hadn’t had a lot of experience with men when she was living, only one relationship, and that had basically been two inexperienced teens fumbling their way through the motions. She’d always looked forward to the day when she would experience the kind of intimacy that she’d heard about, where “the earth moved.” She’d certainly never had that, but she sure thought about it a lot when she was in this place. And every time she thought about it, she thought about it with one man…Dax.

She wanted to forget those voices to the right, forget that light in the middle, and head left-to Dax. She stared at the crack in the wall that identified the closed door to his world, where he could show her everything she’d never known about the desire between a man and a woman. She wanted to have that, to taste that pleasure, if only once. Was that too much to ask before she headed to the light?

“I want him,” she whispered.

A loud creaking penetrated the silence, and the blocked entry to her left eased open. An elderly woman, her silver hair glowing around her shoulders, leaned out from the darkness and crooked an elegant finger toward Celeste.

“Come, chère. You can’t stay as long as before. You’re weaker now.” She peered down that other path, the one with the voices, and shook her head. “Why didn’t you go to them more, chère? You’re weak because you didn’t go.”

Celeste looked down that darkened hall. Why would she have stayed down that path? It didn’t have what she wanted. That path didn’t lead to Dax.

“I wish you were stronger, chère, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.” She paused, frowned. “Still, I can let you through, but you must take care. You have to pay attention to your weakened state.”

“You can take me to Dax?” Celeste asked, hurriedly moving toward the woman with the jet-black eyes and silver-white hair.

“Not me. Prissy needs your help. She’s scared. And the powers that be are allowing you to help her, the way you helped Chloe, so she isn’t afraid. She’ll take you to Dax.”

“How long?” Celeste asked, eager to see him but wanting to know the limitations. “How long can I stay?”

“It all depends, chère. You’ll grow weaker the longer you’re on that side, and with each interaction with one who’s living, you’ll grow weaker still. You could have been so much stronger. You’ve been here two months, but you didn’t rest enough. You should have let them help you get stronger, instead of fighting them and staying here, in the middle.” She glanced down that path with the voices again, then she quirked her mouth to the side. “My guess, chère, is twelve hours at best, but more likely six. It all depends on how much strength your trip takes from your spirit, and how much you interact with the living.”

“Interact,” Celeste repeated, then she remembered the main rule for mediums and spirits. “But we can’t touch.”

“A medium may not touch a spirit,” the other woman said at a whisper, as though she feared someone was listening. “But there is no rule saying you cannot touch, chère.”

Celeste swallowed as the impact of the woman’s statement sank in. “I can touch him.”

“Come, chère. Prissy needs you, and my grandson needs you too.”

“Your grandson?”

“Dax. He needs you.”

And that was enough for Celeste to follow, no further questions asked.

1

DAX VICKNAIR carried another heavy box out of the plantation and placed it against the others already lining the majority of his brother-in-law’s truck. Ryan Chappelle, the brother-in-law in question, merely shook his head and grinned.

“How much more does she have in-” He stopped speaking and hustled toward the porch, where Monique was attempting to carry a box twice her size down the stairs.

“Woman, you’re going to be the death of me,” Ryan groaned, taking the heavy box.

“You already died once,” Dax reminded him, smirking, then turned to Monique. “You better go easy on him this time, sis. He’s not ready for the light again yet.”

Monique gladly let go of her end of the box and let her husband take over. She wiped her damp forehead with her palm, pushing thick blond curls away from her face. “He doesn’t want me going easy on him, regarding anything,” she said. “Isn’t that right, dear? He likes things hard, and so do I.”

Ryan’s smile said way more than any words could have managed, and Dax didn’t really want to hear about it anyway.

“Too much information,” Dax grumbled, heading back in for another load. He paused momentarily when an echo of laughter invaded his thoughts, a little girl’s laughter. He’d heard it a few times today and knew what it meant: a ghost was on the way. Probably before the day ended, he’d have a young spirit to help. Another one to help, but no one on the other side was willing to help him.