Welcome Elizabeth (Lizzie) Adams from #LongaGhostandFarAway by Andrea Downing @AndiDowning #TheGoodTheBadTheGhostly

Hi Rochelle, thanks so much for interviewing me here today. I’m really excited about this—and glad for the day off work!

RW:        What's your story/back story? Why would someone come up with a story about YOU?

LA:         Well, you have to admit it’s pretty interesting for a young woman who just works in an antique shop to time travel back to the late 1800s and find she’s then a ghost with unfinished business. I mean, who wouldn’t be interested in that?

RW:        Can you tell us about your hero?

LA:         I guess you mean Colby. Wow, he’s gorgeous. And so nice, but he did sort of goof. He was married to me and then I died and now he’s married to the most awful bitch, and the outlaws keep raiding the ranch. His life is a bit of a mess at the moment, you might say.

RW:        What problems do you have to face and overcome in your life?

LA:         Getting back from the 1800s to 2016! That’s the main problem. But really, I have to find out how I can stay with Colby while he’s alive in 1897 and I’m alive in 2016. Those are the main problems. Then there’s finding out why I went back in time.

RW:        Do you expect your hero to help or is he the problem?

LA:         Of course I expect him to help! Well, I don’t think he can send me back to 2016 but he’ll certainly take care of those desperadoes who are after gold buried somewhere on his ranch. And I think he’ll help get us reunited. He loves me!

RW:        Where do you live?

LA:         St. Louis, MO—Gateway to the West—in 2016. In the 1800s, I apparently lived on a ranch outside of Buffalo, WY, but since I’m dead when I find myself there, you can’t really say I “lived” there, can you?

RW:        During what time period does your story take place?

LA:         As I said, it takes place both in 2016 and in the late 1800s.

RW:        How are you coping with the conflict in your life?

LA:         Not very well, thank you!

RW:        Those are all the questions we have for you. Thank you for speaking to us.

LA:         Thanks so much for having me here today, Rochelle. Much appreciated!

Author Bio

A native New Yorker, Andrea Downing currently divides her time between the canyons of city streets and the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. Her background in publishing and English Language teaching has transferred into fiction writing, and her love of horses, ranches, rodeo, and just about anything else western, is reflected in her award-winning historical and contemporary western romances.

Loveland, her first book, was a finalist for Best American Historical at the 2013 RONE Awards. It has just been re-released by Amazon Encore. “Lawless Love,” a short story, part of The Wild Rose Press “Lawmen and Outlaws” series, was a finalist for Best Historical Novella at the RONE Awards. Dearest Darling, a novella, part of The Wild Rose Press Love Letters series, won Favorite Hero as well as several honorable mentions in the Maple Leaf Awards. It has also won the Golden Quill Award for Best Novella. Dances of the Heart, her first contemporary novel, came out Feb. 2015.

About the story:

When Lizzie Adams returns as a ghost to a life she led in the 1800s, she is surprised to find herself on a ranch in Wyoming, but delighted to learn she was married to a handsome and loving man. The reasons for her return become clear when she discovers how she died, yet the unresolved issues surrounding her death leave her unable to either live in the 1800s or return to her present life.

Colby Gates misses the wife he loved, yet a ghost is a poor substitute. Re-married to a woman he doesn’t care for, and with outlaws searching for buried gold on his ranch, the spirit of his wife is a further complication

But perhaps if the questions surrounding Lizzie’s death can be answered, the two can be together.

For all time.

Excerpt:

“OH! I do beg your pardon. What year are we pretending this to be now?”

Colby raised a brow in what looked like slight irritation. “It’s 1897.”

“Ah! Of course! 1897. That would explain a whole raft of things. No cell phones. In fact, no phones—”

“Well, there are phones, but not here.”

“I see.” Lizzie shook her head as if she would go along with this whole pretense. “And so I can’t phone a friend to collect me in their car because, of course, there are no cars.”

“Well.” Colby hesitated. “I’m afraid I have no idea what a ‘car’ is other than the car of a railroad train but, yes, there aren’t any. Or do you mean automobiles? We have them—”

“But not here,” Lizzie finished for him. Unable to help herself, she burst out laughing. Jason had really done a good job, and this Colby fellow was a really good actor. He stayed in his part throughout, gave nothing away. “Okay, listen….” She tried to take in a breath but the corset was really biting into her now. “Is there someplace we can go, is there someplace I can go and get the hell out of this corset or whatever the heck you call it, and then perhaps you can give me a cup of tea or something, and we can sort this out?”

“Elizabeth, there is something you should know.” His voice was strained, hesitant.

“There’s a lot I should know, Colby Gates, but what specific item have you got in mind?”

“I’m married. I remarried.”

Lizzie covered her eyes with her hands and sighed with the weight of the universe on her shoulders. “Okay, listen. Really. I don’t want to intrude on you and your wife, I don’t want to be part of this ridiculous farce any more, and I sure as hell don’t want anything more to do with Jason Beeme. Just let me go home, all right? Let me go home? Please? Pretty please?”

Colby blew out a breath and shook his head. “Elizabeth. Lizzie. I have no idea who Jason Beeme is, and this ‘farce’ as you call it, it puzzles me as well. I don’t know how you are here; I only know what I’ve told you. We were married, happily married—very happily married and then….”

“And then? What?”

“You…died.”

“I died. I’m dead. I see.” Hysteria was now setting in, and Lizzie couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped. “I’m dead, but I’m here, is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Soooo, like, if I’m dead, but I’m here, I’m a ghost?” This made her laugh out loud.

Colby didn’t answer. It was as if he hadn’t thought that at all, just been confused as much as she by the situation. He seemed to mull this over now. “Am I now a ghost as far as you are concerned?”

His “yes” came out almost as a breath.

“Hmm. Well, I’m not a ghost, you’re not a cowboy, and this, for sure, isn’t 1887.”

“Ninety-seven,” he corrected her.

She looked him in the eye, nose to nose. “I don’t give a good flying…you-know-what, what year you think it is. I want to go home, and I want to go home now, so just let’s stop playing around with this shit and—”

“You never used to use such language.”

“Mister! Colby! Please stop! The year is 2016 and I can say whatever the hell I please. Women are liberated. We’re free.”

“But…it isn’t lady-like.”

“Well, excuse me! ‘Lady-like’! Okay, I’ve had enough now. Take me home, please.” She rubbed her face with exasperation; this whole sham was un-be-lieve-able.

“Elizabeth…Lizzie…you are home, you know that. Only now…now—”

“You’re married.”

“Yes.”

“Well, good for you. I’m glad. I hope you’ll both be very happy. So, just take me to my apartment on Washington Avenue in St. Louis.”

“I….”

She thought he was gagging as he rubbed his forehead.

“Lizzie: you’re in Wyoming. We’re on a ranch near Buffalo, Wyoming. You’re miles from St. Louis.”

Lizzie could feel her eyes grow big; she thought they might pop out of her head. “Wyoming? Boy, Jason really did a job on me. Brother, how long was I out?”

Colby shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. As I said, I don’t know a Jason, I can only tell you it’s 1897, you’re in Wyoming, you’re my wife—or were my wife—before you…you…died.”

Lizzie felt the breath was being pressed out of her, and if she didn’t get out of this barn, and out of the corset soon, she would, indeed, die for real. “Okay,” she said giving in, “I’m dead. But this corset is killing me, so can we go someplace and let me take it off. Maybe your wife could help?”

“Sylvia is visiting her aunt over in Kelly. She won’t be back for a few days.”

“How convenient!” Ha! One less actor to deal with.

“I’ll take you in the house and we can sort things out there.” He offered her his hand, which she took, looking up into his pale eyes, and let him lead her out of the barn into chill air. The sun was laying its colors on the horizon and she figured it must be late afternoon, wherever she was.

“So, I’m dead,” she said conversationally.

“Well, you were. You seem very much alive at the moment, I have to say, but that’s quite impossible.” He stopped.

Lizzie glanced over at what was no doubt the house, a log structure of good proportion, with a lantern lit and glowing through a window. The last rays of the sun elongated their shadows, and for a moment, she tried to breathe in the cool air deeply.

“Impossible,” she whispered. “To be here like this.” She turned to him, the attraction so great suddenly she wished this wasn’t all some huge act laid on to fool her. “So, I’m dead,” she repeated once more.

“Yes. I think so.” There was a depth of sadness in his voice she couldn’t fathom.

“And how did I die, may I ask?”

Colby Gates stood stock still beside her and let her hand go. He turned to her in the fading light, and Lizzie could see him swallow hard as he removed his Stetson and brushed an invisible speck from its brim before replacing it on his head. Then he looked her in the eye.

"I shot you.”

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