The walls were imbedded with him, the air around her lingering his touch. She reached the flat screen television, seeing his reflection in the black monitor. “Sara,” was whispered near her ear. Sara spun around, a choking sound leaving her.
Lincoln was to her before she had a chance to completely freak out. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He clutched her arms, watching her face.
Sara searched the room with her eyes, looking for him. She shook uncontrollably, jerking with the force of it, her pulse racing. He was gone. It was disturbing how upset she was that she couldn’t find him again. Not for the first time, Sara thought maybe she was losing her mind. Then she thought, would that be such a bad thing? At least then she’d think he was with her and it wouldn’t matter if he really was or not, because in her mind, he would be.
She turned pained eyes to Lincoln. He inhaled sharply as he gazed at her face. “Lincoln, there’s something wrong with me,” she whispered.
Lincoln’s lips thinned. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Sara,” he said firmly.
“Yes, there is. There is. I…” Did she really want to tell him? She did. Sara had to tell someone. “I think I see him. I think I hear him. Voices talk to me in my head.”
He lowered his head until his lips were close to her ear, his breath fanning the side of her face and neck as he murmured, “He’s like my conscience, telling me what to do and say, what not to do and say. I feel him all around me. Sometimes…sometimes I even think he is me, inside of me, part of me. He badgers me into doing things I don’t want to do. He tells me to stop being stupid. He warns me against doing things I shouldn’t. So, no, Sara, I don’t think something is wrong with you, and if there is, well, then, there’s something wrong with me too.”
Sara moved back, their faces close. She felt strange. Connected. Sara felt like she hadn’t felt in a long time. There was nothing romantic about it, but still guilt washed over her at the link to another man other than her husband. Lincoln’s eyes darkened and Sara drew away, shaky and confused. Why did she sometimes think she saw things in his expression, in his eyes, that shouldn’t be there?
He straightened, messing up her hair, looking like the normal Lincoln, a teasing grin in place. “Got that movie ready yet?”
Sara worked to keep her voice steady when she replied, but it shook regardless. “Got that popcorn ready yet?”
That was apparently the queue for the popcorn seeds to start popping, filling the room with the scent of roasted kernels. The pop pop pop became louder and frenzied, the seeds in a race to see which could be popped the fastest. Lincoln left to concentrate on the popcorn and Sara turned the television and DVD player on, letting the previews play as she waited. A framed photograph on the shelved bookcase along the wall caught her eye. She slowly walked to it, her breath catching. It was them, on their wedding day.
Sara’s dark hair was upswept to the side so that it waved down over one shoulder. She was smiling, her eyes sparkling, and her skin healthy and glowing; a strapless cream-toned dress in a simple design fitted to her slim body. The backdrop was the woods outside the house she now stood in; green and abundant with life.
She stared at herself, wanting that Sara back. Her eyes slowly went to him, the sight of him stabbing her in overwhelming grief, so strong she couldn’t breathe for a moment. She trailed a finger over his grinning face, closing her eyes as recollections whispered through her mind.
“Do you have any idea how much I love you?” His face was close to hers, his eyes trained on Sara’s. His fingers sifted through her hair, cupping the nape of her neck. “If anything ever happened to you, there wouldn’t be enough tears in the world for me to cry. That’s how much I love you.”
“Popcorn’s ready.”
Sara started, turning away from the photograph. Lincoln sat on the couch, popcorn bowl on the coffee table, two sodas next to it. He lifted an eyebrow at her and Sara hesitated, the intimacy of sitting next to him locking her in place.
“Do you want your own bowl so you don’t have to sit next to me?” he asked dryly.
“No.” Sara rubbed her arms as she made her way to the couch, sitting on the edge of the couch, stiff-backed.
A long pause ensued.
“Are you going to push play?”
“Are you going to stop acting like you’re afraid of me?”
Sara sat back, eyes on the television screen. “Better?”
“It’ll do.”
The movie began.
***
Sara burst out laughing as he ambled toward her, neon orange speedo in place. Not that his physique was anything to laugh at. Not in the least. He was all toned agile muscles and rangy build. Her fiancé had the body of a man who worked outside seven days a week with his broad shoulders, narrow waist, tanned skin, and athletic legs. She laughed only because he wore a speedo, and an orange one at that.
“Where did you come from?”
“Got done fishing early. Thought I’d surprise you.”