Charon's Crossing

* * *

Amos kept her informed, every step of the way. She signed endless documents, faxed paper after paper to his Elizabeth Island office. It was almost anticlimactic when ownership of Charon's Crossing finally passed from her to the hotel chain that had bought it.

Beverly insisted on their having dinner together. "The past is over," she said, clinking her glass of white wine against Kathryn's.

Kathryn smiled. It wasn't. Not yet, though she didn't tell that to Beverly. The door to the past would not be firmly shut until the end of the next day, for that was when the equipment would be rolling in to tear down what remained of the mansion.

Beverly suggested they have coffee and dessert at her place but Kathryn begged off. She was tired, she said, and she had a long day ahead of her at the office. She didn't add that people had been looking at her as if she'd lost her marbles after the day she'd bolted from the meeting. She'd explained her actions by saying she'd had a terrifying migraine and even though everybody had said, oh, of course, they understood, the truth was that people still gave her odd looks.

"They should only see me now," Kathryn muttered as she paced her living room.

What in hell was the matter with her? Charon's Crossing was sold. It was out of her life forever.

She went to bed early, with the latest best seller and a cup of cocoa. She drank half the cocoa, read the same paragraph three times, gave up, and turned off the light.

A long time later, she fell asleep.

* * *

"Kathryn."

She knows exactly where she is, when she hears his voice. She is right here, in her own bed, and she can hear him as clearly as if he were right beside her. But he isn't.

"Kathryn, my love."

"Matthew? "

A hand brushes lightly over her cheek.

"Never forget me, sweetheart."

"Matthew!" Tears stream down her cheeks. "Matthew, where are you? Please, please, come to me. I love you. I need you..."

"Good-bye, my love. Good-bye."

* * *

Kathryn's eyes flew open. She sat up. It was a dream. It was nothing but a dream. Matthew had never been teal...

There, lying on the pillow next to hers, was a single pink rose, the kind that grew in such profusion over the arched trellis at Charon's Crossing.

* * *

Matthew was real.

He was real!

How could she have convinced herself of anything else?

She was shaking as she threw on her clothes. She had to stop them from razing the ruins of the mansion. If it was gone... if it was gone, Matthew would be gone forever.

Just before she left the house, she tried calling Amos, then Olive, then Hiram and anyone else she could think of on Elizabeth Island but she got only squawks and buzzes.

"Dammit," she said, slamming down the phone.

It was business as usual on the island... except that after today, Matthew would... he would...

No. She couldn't let herself think that way. She wouldn't let herself think that way and she didn't, not through the endless ride to the airport or the charter flight to the island.