"It was hard not to help you. I love you all too much," I responded rather quickly in comparison to how long it took me to try to piece my words together.

I was having a conversation with Lenore Wakelin.

I was looking at her and she was looking at me. She could really see me. She could hear me, too.

The rush of this all had me experiencing emotions I have not felt since I was alive.

I did not know I would ever feel anything like them again. As I looked at her lovely and kind eyes, as they looked deeply into mine, at her heart-shaped face, and at that bottom lip of hers that she had the habit of biting whenever she was uncomfortable, expectant, or even, amused, I felt incredibly embarrassed. I also felt such relief and joy.

I also felt a pang of hurt in my heart that before this moment had been so quiet and stubbornly dormant.

I had told her, "I love you all too much." I could have just as easily told her, "I love you too much," but that would not have been appropriate. I did not want to scare the girl.

Besides, her heart belongs to another now. Erik Thomsen.

I know much better than to confuse and stir the feelings of a girl's heart when she is so wrapped up in the affections of another.

My time may come, and my time may never come.

I am content with either one. If my only purpose in this afterlife is to be Lenny's friend and to help everyone in the Wakelin family as best as I can with whatever abilities and strengths I have, then that will be enough for me. I have found my purpose and this alone brings me great joy.

I saw that she had taken another step towards me. I felt like taking a step back again.

It is very hard for me to explain what I am feeling right now. She should, logically, be afraid of me, right?

But I am the one afraid of her. She can not do anything to me, though, can she? It is not possible that she could actually touch me, so I know she will not be able to push me or punch me.

If that were to happen, would I even be able to feel the pain? I could, no doubt, feel other kinds of pain--the kinds that go much deeper than a shove or a punch.

She had her arms crossed over her chest and then she released them and begun tracing her finger over the ridges of the thick stitching of the quilt on her bed. Her eyes were following her finger, but they were also looking up into mine, and then back on the stitching. Back on me, back on the stitching. Back on me.

"Why are you smiling at me?" She asks and her finger freezes on a fabric patchwork heart. Red, purple, and blue.

"Am I?"

In all honesty, this is something I have not felt in a very long time either. Am I flirting with her? What am I doing? What is going on here?

I take a deep breath in, though it is just for show. I no longer have the need to breathe. Maybe I just want to pretend to breathe so she will feel more comfortable around me.

I fiddle with one of my ear lobes and then I scratch one of my elbows. I do not know why I am doing that either. My skin does not itch anymore.

I finally spoke and said, "I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

"What were you thinking about?"

Lenny, you are everything I wished you would be and nothing I could ever have dreamed of.

I cannot tell her that, though. Again, I do not want to scare the girl.

There she goes, biting that bottom lip again.

I shift my weight onto my other foot and cross my arms over my chest. "I am just thinking about how unbelievable this all is. It feels like a dream." I let out a short chuckle. "I never sleep, though, so I never dream anymore."

Her finger moves over the patchwork heart again, tracing its outline over and over.

"That's so sad," she breathes. Her voice cracks just a tad, and I am tempted to go to the kitchen and get her a glass of water. But if I leave the room, will she be able to see me once I come back in? How does this all work? How is this working at all?

"Many things are sad in this world. Surely, a ghost that can not dream anymore is not one of the saddest things of all."

I forgot about this. I used to have this tendency of musing aloud. At times, at great length. Apparently, it may still be true.

Lenny giggles quietly and asks, "Why are you making that face?"

"Oh?" I am caught off guard. What an odd sensation. After so long, I have someone observing me.

Who needs to be self-conscious when you have Lenore Wakelin in your afterlife?

"I figured you were a ghost," she said, a shiver running through her body as she said the final word. She brought up her arms and crossed them tightly over her chest.

Without much thought, I walked over to the other side of the room. It did not go unnoticed how her eyes followed my every movement as I did so. I picked up the dark grey cardigan she had draped over the chair in front of her desk.

I laid the cardigan over her shoulders and said, "I'm pretty sure it's my fault it's rather chilly at the moment."

She gave me a small smile and put her arms through the cardigan's sleeves and wrapped it tightly around her torso.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." I gave her a small smile back.

Somehow, our manners propelled us both to take a seat on her bed and look out our window at the reflection of the moon on the rippling surface of the pond.

Before she could see that my brows were beginning to gather in the middle, I tried my best to relax my face. I felt as if my brain, or what was left of it, was having a difficult time communicating with the rest of me. This would definitely be a learning curve.

I took another deep breath and interlocked by fingers in my lap and looked over at Lenny as she took a deep breath as well and shoved her hands under her knees. We gave each other a nervous sigh and a kind smile. We both looked down at the floor below us for longer than I wanted us to before Lenny spoke.

"It's very windy outside," she lifted up her hand and pointed her finger out in front of her, "Look. It's like the moon is dancing with the pond."

I was not looking at the pond, though. My eyes were on Lenny. A pang coursed through my heart again. It hurt. She brought her hand back down onto her lap and added, "A storm must be coming."

"Oh, a storm of another kind already hit this house earlier."

She brought her hand up to her face and shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I didn't thank you for what you did. For stopping Jude. For listening to me. For being there when we all needed help," she turned to look me in the eyes and said, "Thank you. Thank you so much."

I had wanted to make my presence known for quite some time, and I could not have imagined it would have been under those kind of circumstances. I was glad to be of service, regardless.

"You're welcome, Lenny."

She let out a nervous giggle, "You know my name."

I sat, silently, for I could see her eyes skipping around as she thought. Her finger found the patchwork heart between us on the quilt again and she traced its outline while she told me, "Of course, you do. You probably know a whole lot more than just our names."

Her long bangs fell over one of her eyes as she spoke, and I wanted to sweep the strands away. Instead, I figured it would be best to speak.

"I suppose I do know quite a lot, but I do not know everything."

"You know my parents died?"

Again, my heart. A very deep pang.

Lenore Wakelin, if I can protect you and those you love from any future pain, I hereby promise to you I will do my best to ensure that. I promise I will take care of you and your family for as long as I am able.

"Yes, I know. You were nine years old."

I think back to when I first saw her. She had slammed the bedroom door behind her. Her bed was just a mattress, propped up against the wall, and the only furniture in her room at the time was a dresser and a bookshelf.

She stomped her feet and sat in the middle of the room, cardboard boxes of all her belongings surrounding her. She had just balled her small hands into fists and frowned at her uncle before coming into her room. She was still convinced that Uncle Andy, her grandmother, and her siblings where playing some sort of horrible joke on her. Her parents could not possibly be dead.

I bid my mind to shake that memory away. I just allowed what I felt when I looked at her for the first time to remain. I felt and vowed that I would love Lenny for all of my days here and beyond.

Her face scrunched up for a moment as if she was trying to fight them off, but the tears streamed down her cheeks anyway. I have seen her cry before, so many times, when she thought she was all alone in her room. This felt different, though.

It was an old and distant ache that consumed me as I watched her cry next to me. As the moonlight was reflected in every perfect tear that left a wet trail on her face, I wanted to hold her in my arms, but she did not know a single thing about me.

Something told me I should share something about myself with her, so I did.

"When I was nine years old, I fell in love for the first time."

She wiped at her tears and straightened her back before looking at me again, "You know, some poets would say falling in love is a lot like dying."

"It sure can be. Yes." I nodded and we held each other with our eyes. She brushed her bangs to one side of her face, and I saw she has stopped crying.

"It's like stepping into the unknown. And there's no turning back." As she said the last sentence her eyes broke away from mine and I could sense so many theories and questions and thoughts up in the air between us.

I also detected how her shoulders had slumped over a little more than before.

"You should get some sleep," I told her. I looked over at the clock over the bookshelf next to her bed. It was almost 4 o'clock in the morning.

I felt silly asking her, but I was powerless against my need to ask her, "May we talk more after you wake up?"

She tugged at her cardigan and sleepily resisted, "Who said I was going to sleep just yet? I'm talking to a ghost right now. In my bedroom." She lowered her voice to a faint whisper for added effect, "That's pretty cool, ya know?"

I smiled wider than I had all morning, but I remained firm. "It is time for you to go to bed, Lenny." I stand up and walk over to the window.

"Alright," I picked up a groggy playfulness in her voice. "I'll go to sleep if you tell me one thing."

"What's that?"

"Your name."

She crawled over to the middle of her bed and yanked her boots off. There were two small thuds on the floor once they hit it. I picked up her boots and set them neatly in front of her bed. She kicked at her quilt and sheets and buried her head in her pillow.

"Daniel Callahan."

"Daniel Callahan," she said into the air around us. "Nice to meet you, Daniel." She closed her eyes with a content smile on her face.

As she got into a more comfortable sleeping position, I reached over and brought her quilt up to her chin and looked down at her. I never could have imagined how someone's beauty could just grow and grow with every passing day.

"Nice to know you, Lenore."

A/N:
Please, people! Round of applause for me. For not only finishing a long overdue chapter, but finishing it before 1 in the morning. I still have to edit it, though. I'll be as quick as possible so it gets posted ASAP.

It helped that I wrote about half of it earlier today.
I'm such a sucker for writing all at once, though. That way I am there in that scene for longer---that's how most of my chapters have been written. I feel breaking it up is a wiser choice, though. What do you think? How do you write? What's your process?

As I hopefully wish you all already know, I am writing this story as I go. I have a few ideas/sketches of scenes and some dialogue for an important scene or two in the future, but that's it. It's crazy! Thank you for sticking with me in this insanity.

I am still learning how to juggle it all. Momming. Wife-ing. Reading. Commenting. Writing. Replying. I've never been an orderly type of person, though. We'll see.

I will tell you I just needed to rest and take it easy, so I did. I will do so again if I need to.

Hope this chapter struck your fancy.
:)

Tell us what you think. (You know Daniel wants to know even more than I do.)

If you wish Daniel 'haunted' your house, please vote and comment!

<3
Leanne