Unfashionably Dead

Chapter Nine

The drawings of Jose Gaspar that I'd seen so many times on the Internet and on posters around South Tampa in the weeks leading up to Gasparilla did him no justice. The only similarities are his dark hair, thick beard, and large, chocolate eyes. His smile reveals a full set of pearly teeth, a feat for the times no doubt. There's a roguish charm about this real Jose in the flesh...er...air, whatever the heck we are. He's actually handsome. I never would have guessed it with the drawings.

The questions fly through my mind, but I'm stuck on having a real-life legend in front of me. He gives me a smile that melts my heart. But I must stay focused. He lets out a sigh, clearly awaiting my response, and I nod.

"You don't appear to be hellbent on revenge. Because you don't know why you haven't crossed, my guess is it's your zest for life. You simply aren't ready to go."

My zest for life. I hadn't really thought about it, but I loved my life, loved my family, loved my friends, and just really loved living it up in Tampa. I had so many hopes and dreams. I wanted to find Mr. Right, to have children, to have enough money to buy all the Prada, Burberry, and Valentino that my heart desired. To grow old and watch my children as they pursued their hopes and dreams.

My throat catches. Tears roll down my face. "It isn't fair. I wanted so much more." Before I know it, I am wailing, loud enough to wake the dead, but I am the dead.

The thought stings like a swarm of hornets angry at the intrusion. "I can't be dead."

I scream about the prospect of not seeing my sister again, not meeting my unborn niece, not being able to help Lanie see Adam for the monster he is. And I scream for God, anyone, to let this be a nightmare, let it be a case of mistaken identity, with me sleeping soundly in my efficiency apartment on Dale Mabry.

"It's only natural, Senorita. We all mourn what we had and what could have been, and then we deal with it or move on." Jose sits down across the hall from me. His eyes are warm, seeming to empathize with my pain.

"There's no way out of this, no way to come back to life?"

"Crossing over is the only way out," Jose says matter-of-factly. "If coming back were possible, I would have discovered a way."

I can't cross over. It seems so final, and I'm not sure what is on the other side. I can't imagine Gianni Versace waiting to dress me in designer duds. I really can't justify crossing when I don't know who did this to me. I have to make sure Lanie is safe, that she doesn't take the fall for what she wouldn't or couldn't have done.

Needing a distraction, I dry my tears and turn my attention to the pirate. "Tell me about your life. How much of your legend is true?"

He relaxes. Apparently men from the 1700s have the same comfort levels when it comes to women crying as the ones from today do.

"Ah...I was born to a noble family in Spain in the year 1778. I served in the Spanish Navy. I died in 1821, but my life was more than one might be able to cull from the encyclopedias."

I nod and motion for him to continue.

"I fell in love with Monica, the legends say her name was Josefa, as soon as I first laid eyes upon her. She had hair the color of fire and emerald eyes that gleamed with her every smile. I spent a small fortune buying a necklace to match those beautiful eyes. It was two days after I gave her the gift that her father, el capitan of my ship, discovered I was courting his daughter. She was betrothed to a man from a family more noble than my own.