• Veronica started across the dark kitchen when she saw someone going through one of the cupboards. She grabbed a cast-iron skillet from the stove and turned on the light.
    "Sequoiah!" she gasped. The skillet fell to the floor with a loud thud.
    Sequoiah smiled lazily, his flashing eyes and high cheekbones as bold and beauitful as those of his Navajo ancestors.
    She must still be dreaming. Sequoiah had been dead a couple of years now.
    "Veronica." His whisper across the room filled the empty ache inside her. How many nights had she imagined seeing him again?
    "What-" She started to ask him what had happened, but he closed her mouth with a kiss.
    Her finger caressed the tiny scar that slashed his right cheek. His skin felt warm.
    A noise startled her and she pulled away.
    Her mother stepped into the kitchen."Veronica, what was that noise? were you talking to someone in here?"
    "Sequoiah," she started to say, but before the words left her mouth, she turned back. The kitchen was empty.
    She touched her lips remembering his kiss. Were here feelings for Sequoiah still so strong that she conjured up his ghost?