Mine, all mine! Rick dropped into the smooth black leather chair and glanced around his apartment. Tracy had nothing to do with it. He walked through the living room barefoot, enjoying the spongy feel of the gray wool carpeting. Standing in one spot, he absorbed his newly-discovered calm, breathed in deeply, in no hurry to move.

Since the divorce, instead of joining his fellow executives at their favorite watering hold at lunchtime, he drove to the section of town where decorators met their clients. He had no problem gaining entry; his card, with the name familiar to anyone who read the society pages, brought smiles of recognition and offers of help. He reveled in this opportunity to turn to trained sales people for advice, rather then Tracy. Money was no object; he was a young prince bestowing on them his largess!

Why did I do that? Suddenly, his eye caught a startling glimpse of a female form, which hovered only a few feet from his shoulder. Am I going mad? Rick jumped to his feet, spun around but ‘she’ or ‘it’ was gone. Good. If it comes back, I’ll know I’m in trouble. Take it easy! Maybe I should go to a shrink after all. He took a stiff drink and turned on his new plastic television, luxuriating in its comforting message: Hey, Hey! You’re doing great!

But later, when he checked his computer, there was another message, this time not so comforting. His e-mail, in black letters on a pink background, read “Stop denying me. I am you. Two halves equal one.” What the hell! No name. Who was toying with his mind?

He slept fitfully that night, but after his shower and a quick liquid breakfast, he drove to work with time to spare for another cup of coffee and a buttered croissant that Laurie, his secretary, had ready for him. “Thanks, Babe.” (First time for that name choice.) Her eyebrows went up, but a little smile followed.

He busied himself at his desk, signing letters, and developing a proposal for a research project that could move his company into the first ranks of medical instrument technology. After ten minutes at his computer, he stopped and just stared out the windows. His mood darkened; he followed his instinct and tossed the papers into the trash. “Damn, damn, damn!” he said, smashing his hand on the desk, but couldn’t help checking all around for any visitor, real or imagined.

Laurie knocked discreetly, then entered. “Mr. Evans wondered if you would meet him at your health club at lunch time.”

“Great idea. Tell him I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He shut down his computer and hurried out.

Burt Evans was waiting for Rick when he reached the club. The two of them dressed for their tennis game. But it was never a game, more like a war. Burt was a few years younger than Rick and had never married. Rick grumped as he missed shot after shot. “You’re in better shape than I am. You didn’t have a wife to stuff you full of all the wrong foods.”

After the game Rick apologized. “Look, I’m sorry for being a sore loser. My reflexes are all screwed up lately. My divorce was brutal, and I still growl at the world.”

Burt responded with a friendly jab at Rick’s shoulder. “You’ll probably take me tomorrow. I’ve never beaten you two times in a row.”

Rick joined the other men in the locker room, listening to their discussion of market gyrations and adding comments of his own. As he dressed, however, he had the eerie sensation of being watched. He turned and once more saw a spectral female figure with blurred features. “What the hell!” he exclaimed, causing heads to swivel in his direction.

“Hey, are you sure you’re O.K.?” Burt asked from his locker nearby.

“Yes, of course,” Rick lied. “I just remembered an appointment I made for this evening.”

“Going back to your old haunts again, are you?” Burt grinned, his brows dancing up and down.

Rick winced at his unfortunate wording, then winked. “Can’t keep a good man down. I have a lot of catching up to do.”

He didn’t understand why the other men looked uncomfortable. Back at the office, he tried to relax before turning once again to the pile of papers on his desk.

 

Sensing something behind him, he swung around on his chair until he was satisfied that he was alone for the present. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Tracy. She had used a particular perfume that always aroused him. He’d know her anywhere, even with blurred features. She had that way of moving…oh, hell, there’s work to be done. I’ve got to stop thinking about something that’s over. Maybe, but his stomach went into knots. He could swear he had seen tears. Nah, just his nerves working overtime.

The next evening he had a date with the woman who had helped him so expertly in the designer studio. She had passed him her card and quite casually said, “Call me any time.”

The candlelight flattered her rather strong features, and Rick enjoyed the lusty way she attacked her rare steak. Now this is a woman I could get interested in. He reached for her hand. She smiled and wiggled her finger, but then startled him by pressing her shoeless toes against his leg. She’s taking the lead, Rick thought and couldn’t decide whether he enjoyed the sensation or not.

When he took her home, he thought of continuing their flirtation. To his surprise, she turned at the door and kissed him coolly on the lips. “Let’s do this again sometime. I’d like to see what you’ve accomplished with the new furniture at your place.”

Rick drove home bemused. His mind set up images of her lying in bed with her blond highlights caught by a dim lamp. He smiled, realizing he was more tantalized because she hadn’t asked him in. Besides he wanted to take her up on her subtle hints about coming up to his apartment. Anything could happen.

His bedroom was dark and chilly as he prepared for bed. The new quilt, so sophisticated with its silken sheen in daylight, made him shiver, throw it off and turn on his electric blanket. It had taken him a few months to get used to sleeping alone. At first, his hand would reach out inadvertently, so accustomed was he to Tracy’s warm body next to his. Even when they had been brutal with one another, bed and lovemaking still held a powerful attraction. Their bodies responded to the familiar. It was as if they decided to call a temporary truce to their personal war. His mind clung to the memories until sleep finally caught up with him.

In the morning, the weak sun, filtering through the new blinds, did nothing to improve Rick’s mood. At work, he called a meeting with his section managers, and his attacks on their competitors sent furtive looks around the room. “I don’t care if they helped us on the last negotiations with the government. I want you to get tough. Go for the groin. You can’t be soft. That’s woman stuff.”

One of the female managers glared at Rick, but he silenced her with an icy look that implied, “Play it my way or__” She left angry but closed the door softly behind her. Rick’s grin stretched tight across his face. “She’ll come around,” he said to the quiet room.

His bleak mood continued that evening. Even his apartment failed to arouse his sensual pleasure with its luxury. He turned on the tall halogen lamps and in-ceiling spots to push back the shadows. He was unable to shrug off the sense that the apparition hovered in the air nearby. “Leave me alone,” he shouted, but the thick carpets and black burlap-covered walls kept his words from echoing through the apartment. Crazy, but he almost missed her. Better get to bed, or he’d start talking to himself. The floors creaked and the blinds swayed though the window was closed.

 

The next day was hellish. He worked hard until his appointment at four o’clock to see his realtor at his former home. “Get the house in shape, and I’ll sign whatever you need.” Rick only wanted the man to leave. He needed to laugh again with his friends, to stop thinking he saw Tracy on every street corner. He had jumped back when one woman came close to him and stared into his eyes.

On impulse, took the steps two at a time to the master bedroom. He sniffed the air. Nothing. He listened for voices. Nothing. He could sense the strange woman very close to him. He realized he didn’t want her to leave. She comforted him. He slid open Tracy’s closet door and walked in, looked down and picked up a fragile piece of material. He recognized it as one of Tracy’s scarves, in her signature colors of turquoise and hot pink. After a short hesitation, he pressed the scarf to his nose and breathed in deeply.

Then the tears came, starting slowly but turning into a torrent. He let them run down his face, then into his mouth.  Nothing had prepared him for such pain. When he looked for his silent companion, she was nowhere to be seen. In panic, Rick ran from room to room. Yet when he pulled up and stopped, he was almost glad to be alone. Something strange was happening.

The tears were gone; the knot in his throat had disappeared. There was an even more subtle change. He intuitively knew that whoever the  ghost woman was, she had merged with him. For the first time in months, he was whole again. Was that what the e-mail message meant? Those mystical words, “I am you.”

He closed the door behind him and walked away. He felt older and somehow wiser. Tomorrow, he’d give Laurie some flowers to apologize. But today he had something very important to accomplish.

 

He sat down at his desk at home and, cradling his head, wrote a long letter. It started with, “Darling Tracy, I had to go through terrible pain to realize that I love you more than anything in this world. More than money, more than business deals. My God, we even divorced before I realized I am incomplete without you. Let’s talk. I’m ready now.”

When he finished writing, he sat back and placed his hand over his heart. With a glance at his watch, he picked up the phone and called his realtor and left his message. “This is a really important decision. I am not going to change my mind. Take my house off the market. Do It NOW! I’ll explain later. Rick.”