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She’d felt their love. She’d seen it in the vision. It hadn’t been only an affair, it had been deeper, truer. Not everyone found that sort of love in their life. But if it made one make dangerous and questionable decisions that led to getting shot, then she’d prefer to keep to the much more orderly emotions, thanks.
There was no chance that her relationship with David would end up with her pining away for his spirit. Not that she didn’t care for him; there was some strong affection there, but love?
Amanda’s life was unpredictable enough dealing with her psychic abilities without adding love to the equation.
“WHY DO we care about this clock, again?” Jacob asked as they ascended the staircase to the second floor of the dimly lit, musty-smelling house.
Amanda didn’t answer right away, which worried him a little. Was she in another trance? Was she communicating with the ghosts? He’d never worked with her before, but he’d worked with other mediums enough to know that dead people weren’t always friendly and cooperative. No, sometimes they were vicious and violent and intent on possession. A soft, sweet-smelling, warm human body like Amanda’s would be their first choice to thrust themselves into.
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