Forget Me Never by Sable Hunter (books successful people read txt) 📗

motel a short distance away and was anxious to get into the cool and out of the heat.  For a few hours, I just did some research on the laptop and ordered a hamburger from room service.  When I finally lay down to sleep, I was a bit restless.  I turned out the lights and TV and shut my eyes to try and settle my brain.  After only a few moments in bed, out of nowhere, something or someone slapped the crap out of my foot.  It wasn’t a vicious slap, it was more like a – ‘Hey you! Look at me! slap.’  Of course my first instinct was to think that someone was in the room.  So I jumped up and looked under the bed, in the closet and in the bathroom.  There was no one there.”

“Did you run screaming out into the night with just your pajamas on?  That’s what I would have done.”  Harley’s eyes were big.

“No, I didn’t run.  Actually, I sat down and talked to myself and to the spirit.  After all, I hunt ghosts.  Why should I be surprised when I actually find one?”  That was one thing that always confused Savannah.  She loved to watch the paranormal documentaries but was always frustrated with the investigators when they were shocked to actually find some type of evidence.

“Did you find out anything about who whacked you on the foot?”

“No, I didn’t.”  Savannah admitted.  “Early that morning I got a phone call that I had permission to have Patrick’s sperm implanted, so I left.  One thing did sd, oe though.”

“What was that?”

“When I was packing the car to leave, I noticed that my motel was right next to a funeral home.”  At Harley’s confused expression, Savannah went on to explain.  “My whole point is that ghost hunters attract spirits who want to communicate.”

“So, what about Patrick?”

Savannah sighed.  “I suppose I said all of that to say that it’s possible the email is supernatural in origin and that Patrick isn’t alive.  As much as I pray I’m wrong, I can’t forget that they sent him home in a casket.”

“It was a closed casket,” Harley interjected.

“Yes, it was,” Savannah admitted.  “But if Patrick were alive, he’d move heaven and earth to come back to me.”

“I still think you ought to check this out.”

Savannah laughed, “You don’t have to convince me.  I’m still totally, completely, irrevocably in love with him.  Of course, I’ll check it out.  Monday will see me turning over every rock to see if I can unearth any news of him anywhere.  But tonight, I want you to help me eliminate the possibility that I can contact him with this new gizmo I have.”

“Of course.  You know I’ll do whatever you need me to.”  There was so much concern on Harley’s face that Savannah almost broke down – again.

“All right,” Savannah threw up her hands in surrender, “I’ll admit it.  I’m scared to death.  I want Patrick to be alive so much that I’m going crazy trying to make sure I don’t get my hopes up too high.  Harley, I don’t think I can stand to lose him twice.”

With that Harley rose and put her arms around Savannah.  “I know, Honey.  I know.”  They finished their coffee and cake, Harley called Beau and they gathered flashlights before they set off for the cemetery. Night was falling fast.  “Tell me about your new toy.”

“It’s the newest thing in ghost hunting.  Created by Frank Sumption, it’s called a Frank’s Box or a ghost box.  By using white noise and radio waves, it actually gives the spirits a voice.  You can ask questions and the device scans the band.  The entities can manipulate the audio remnants to create words and even entire sentences.”

“My Lord!  I can’t wait to see what tonight brings!  I just wish we had brought my large, macho, hunky husband along.”

“We’ll be okay.”  They parked underneath a weeping willow and walked carefully to the ornate wrought iron gates.  Saint Michael’s in St Martinville was a typical South Louisiana cemetery – spooky at night.  Ciara set out through the maze of mausoleums as if on a scavenger hunt for squirrel and mice.  Not once had she ever shown any interest where Patrick was laid to rest.  Savannah had often wondered about that.  Down through the ages, there were true accounts of dogs who had guarded the graves of their masters for years.  Yet, Ciara stared down the driveway for hours a day just like she expected him to drive back up at any moment.

Savannah could have made the trek in the black dark.  She had walked it often enough.

“This is beautiful, Savannah.  I love the bench and the flowers.  How did you get these Forget Me Not’s to bloom so late in the year?”

“I grow them from seed in the green house and I keep new plants coming in all during the year.  There are only a few months in the dead of winter that we don’t have green plants.”  For just a moment she stood there and stared at the ornate sarcophagus with the carved lettering that broke her heart every time she saw it.

Patrick Heath O’Rourke

Beloved Fiancé and Grandson

You Will Never Be Forgotten

Paddy was with him now; the old man had died in his sleep a few months after she had lost Patrick.

Savannah sank to the bench and Harley joined her.  “How are we going to do this?” she whispered.

“You can talk in your normal voice,” Savannah teased.

“Yea, but – uh – they are listening to us.  Aren’t they?”

“I hope so.  To tell you the truth, I’m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”  Harley rubbed Savannah’s shoulder.

“I’ve done this before, but so much hinges on what happens tonight.”  She was so close to crying.  Desperately, Savannah tried to hold it together.  “Before, I just wanted to hear his voice.  I wanted to know he still existed somewhere.  Now, I’m hoping I won’t hear his voice, because I hope he’s still alive out there.”

Harley looked around nervously.  “It’s