Stacey Joy Netzel's Page

IF TOMBSTONES COULD TALK

History aficionado Melanie Sparks takes a walking tour of the cemetery in her new Colorado town and learns more about one of the past residents than she ever could've imagined. The story behind Andrew Lindeman's tragic death during the Pike’s Peak Gold Rush in 1859 triggers dreams in which she relives his last moments. She’s drawn closer to the handsome ghost while she resolves to clear his tarnished name. A passionate kiss sets his spirit free, but will Melanie lose her heart for good?
~*~
A handsome man, his dark horse, gunshots and a raging river plagued Melanie’s dreams that night. She woke Saturday morning completely exhausted, yet an energy she couldn’t explain pulsed through her. After cleaning her house and washing a few loads of laundry, she tried weeding her two small flower gardens in the backyard.
Nothing took her mind off Andrew Lindeman, or more accurately, nothing could erase the memory of that shadow figure next to his tombstone.
She gave up trying to review the current case she was working on and put on her tennis shoes. A long walk along the South Platte River only led her back to the cemetery. She paused outside the gate, staring intently at that one specific shaded gravesite. Everything looked normal. Most likely she’d imagined things yesterday. Her imagination had been in overdrive after all the wonderful history she’d learned.
She entered the grounds and followed the path John had led the group along the day before. Every so often she snuck a glance toward the black granite, until at the end, she stood in front of it. Deep breath. Squatting down, she reached to touch the old, worn stone sunk in the earth.
Cold. As it should be.
Her gaze rose to the other one. She didn’t want to touch it, but had to make sure. Her hand trembled slightly as she extended her arm. Cool. Smooth. Relief flooded through her. With one finger, she traced the A in Andrew, then flattened her palm over the name.
In a single instant, the granite warmed, almost to the point of burning her flesh. She yanked her hand back, then nearly jumped out of her skin as a figure materialized right before her eyes.
His dark, glittering eyes locked on her. She couldn’t breathe. If she stayed still, would he go away? She needed oxygen or she’d faint. Rising slowly, she drew in a lungful of air, then concentrated on repeating the process. All the while, her mind registered details.
The man of her dreams. Tall. Dark, wavy hair, worn long enough to hang over his forehead and brush his collar. Eyes that at first glance appeared black but now she saw were a sexy slate gray. His thick eyebrows shadowed them, making them seem darker. A hint of a five o’clock shadow lent a sinister air, yet she wasn’t truly afraid.
“You can see me.” The husky accusation washed over her.