Free The Intruder by Greg Krehbiel

But this one you can get for free," she said, patting the left hip pocket of her oversized vest. "I just like real books. They're easier on the eyes."
    "So do I. Can I see it, if you don't mind?"
    "Sure," she said. She reached into her pocket and handed Jeremy an exquisitely bound, leather volume. It was the perfect size for a coat pocket, felt substantial in the hand, had gilded pages, a satin marker and an embossed title. Jeremy thought it was a Bible, but it was titled "Call to the Unconverted," by Richard Baxter. He'd never heard of it, but the title scared him. Is she some kind of religious nut? he wondered.
    "I'm taking a class in English Puritan theology and this is one of the books we're supposed to read," she said. "I saw the title in my pastor's library, so I thought I'd read the real thing, instead of burning my eyes out on my implant."
    Jeremy smiled at her as he glanced at a few pages.
    "I'd noticed that your eyes don't wander, like a lot of people's do."
    Hanna grimaced . "It used to be a sign of poor discipline -- 'implant eye,' they called it, and you were considered somewhat of a slob if you couldn't control it -- but people seem to have given in. Not me."
    Jeremy looked up and smiled again as he paged through the book. He was a very fast reader, but this book made for heavy work. Baxter's style seemed tedious, and the subject didn't interest him at all, but the book itself was a beautiful thing. The text was in a flowing script that forced the reader to take it slow. It might even have been hand-written.
    He handed it back.
    "I wouldn't have suspected that an anthropology student would have to take English Puritan Theology. It sounds more like something in a divinity program."
    "You're right, it's not in my curriculum. It's actually a class offered at my church."
    That brought to mind his late-night study from the day before. "Do you know anything about angels, Hanna?" he asked in a subdued voice, looking down into his food.
    "Some," she said. "What do you want to know?"
    "Well," he looked up at her eagerly, but kept his voice low, "how would you know if you had seen one?"
    He steeled himself for the inevitable laughter, but it didn't come. Instead, Hanna wore a thoughtful expression and looked away for a minute. "I've never really thought about that," she said. "From everything I've read, angels look like regular people. Sometimes they look like huge regular people, like when David saw the angel that was attacking Jerusalem, but most of the time they are just taken to be men."
    If you believe that stuff, Jeremy thought, and found it somewhat odd that she hadn't questioned his interest.
    "I was studying this question last night, and I came to the same conclusion. They just look like regular people most of the time." She didn't reply, and there was a minute of silence as he pondered what to say next. "What do you know about ghosts?"
    Hanna suppressed a laugh. "Far less than I know about angels, I promise you. I would say that I don't believe in ghosts, but frankly I'm not dogmatic on that one. I don't think there are ghosts, but I wouldn't rule out the possibility."
    Jeremy nodded, and his respect for Hanna shot up a few notches. It was one thing to believe that angels were real if you thought there was sufficient evidence. It was a completely different matter to believe that ghosts were not, and it seemed that she knew the difference.
    "Aren't you dying to know why I'm asking these questions?" he finally said.
    The edges of her mouth curled in a conspiratorial smile. "I figured you'd get around to it if you wanted to. And besides, I have other ways of finding out about you."
    MacKenzie.
    He shuffled in his seat a bit, scratched the back of his head and looked around. 
    "I have a lot of things I'd like to talk to you about. Can we go for a walk?"
    Hanna raised her eyebrows in surprise, put her half-eaten breakfast on Jeremy's tray, and they left together.
    *               *