by Angie Fox
“Have to or want to?” There was a difference.
“Have to,” he said, without hesitation. Dang, I hated when he looked so earnest. “I have to fix this somehow. I just don’t know how.”
I drew back. I understood his point, but there were limits. “The person who broke it is the one who needs to fix it, Ellis. It’s not ever going to get better until your mother decides she wants to change things, and I’ve come to realize she’s never going to do that unless we force her hand.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Maybe. I don’t know. I do get why you don’t want to spend another second with my mother, and I understand. Believe me,” he added, when I started to tell him why. “But there’s more to it for me. They’re my family, and it’s Christmas, and if I don’t keep trying to hold them all together, no one will.”
“Ellis—” It was a burden he shouldn’t have to bear alone.
Shame on Virginia. Shame on her and her poisonous ways. She was mean. She was wrong. And somehow, she was out in the car listening to Christmas tunes while we cleaned up her mess.
“You could join me,” Ellis suggested warily. “It’s Christmas,” he continued when I didn’t say a word. “There’s always hope, right?”
Maybe. I shook my head. “I don’t know.” I wasn’t sure I had any hope left for that woman. “Ellis, I can’t go tonight. Not after what happened outside.”
I didn’t regret a word I’d said, but I didn’t exactly want to spend the evening with Virginia doing her level best to make me.
Ellis brushed a wisp of hair away from my eyes. “Family matters, Verity. And I hardly get to see most of the extended aunts and uncles more than once a year.”
I knew the feeling. My family was the same way, only my father was long gone, and I wouldn’t even get to see my mother this Christmas. She and my stepfather were in Durango, Colorado, riding the Polar Express while I took a trip on Virginia’s crazy train.
Ellis dropped his hand. “I have to go,” he said simply.
I didn’t agree, but I didn’t argue, either. He had to see this through and realize for himself there was no changing people.
I sighed.
What I did next I did for Ellis, and for me, and for everyone out in the world who couldn’t see their parents this Christmas. I leaned in and kissed his cheek, then his lips. “Go,” I whispered. “Have a merry Christmas Eve.”
He nodded and kissed me on the top of the head. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Merry Christmas, Verity.”
It didn’t feel like one.
4
At least getting out of the dress was a relief.
It took some twisting to get my hands on the zipper in the back, but I managed to wriggle the thing off. I hung it in the wardrobe—right next to my now cash-free coat—and hoped to goodness I never had to put it on again. Melody could have her CosmoGirl style. It suited her. As for me? I slid into a pair of snowflake-patterned leggings and one of my favorite sweaters.
The gray-blue cable knit nearly reached my knees. I took my hair down and brushed it until it relaxed a little, then scrubbed off most of my makeup. I’d get the rest later.
I considered my dressed-down reflection in the bathroom mirror and sighed. How was it possible for me to be in love with such a wonderful man and still wish for a herd of reindeer to trample his mother? Or maybe for her to choke on a tiny candy cane?
Ellis and Virginia were so drastically different when it came to their temperaments and the way they treated people. I couldn’t understand how anyone could act the way she did, I just couldn’t. And it blew my mind how everyone had let her get away with it for so long.
Me included.
I fluffed my hair and headed downstairs. Perhaps I would make that pear pie.
After everything I’d said to Ellis tonight, every bridge I burned by standing up to Virginia and refusing to attend the party—I felt liberated, but also like I might have made an irrevocable mistake. I’d been looking forward to this party for weeks, and while I wasn’t mad that Ellis had gone without me, I hadn’t exactly planned to be alone on Christmas Eve.
Lucy waited for me at the bottom of the stairs, still eyeing the massive fruit basket.
“Merry Christmas to you, right?” I asked, heaving it off the hall table while she licked her little chops. “Well, come on, then,” I said, hefting it toward the kitchen. “We have work to do.”
I’d finally said everything I wanted to Virginia and put her in her place. After all this time. But now that the dust had settled, it didn’t feel as satisfying as I’d imagined.
Be careful what you wish for.
My words hadn’t seemed to make a dent. And now I didn’t know if I’d ever be welcomed into the Wydell family. Virginia could now tell them—quite truthfully—that I’d dressed her down in my front driveway and threatened her with fruit.
Add that to the list of offenses.
Too bad being with my own family tonight wasn’t an option, not with Mom still touring the country in her RV and Melody off at the bars with all her old friends who’d come back to town. Dad had been dead for years, and Frankie…well, I didn’t know what sort of company he’d be at Christmas, but it didn’t matter because I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him today.
I deposited the fruit basket on my kitchen table and tried not to laugh. It was kind of obnoxious. I’d seen these types of arrangements in magazines, but never in person.
“Time for a snack,” I announced to my striped little sidekick.
She danced a circle and grunted merrily as I peeled the foil back from the ten-dollar treat. I’d done the math.
“We’re in the wrong business,” I said, handing a sliver over to Lucy. The pear was ripe and fresh. I’d just taken a slice for myself, the juice exploding in my mouth, when Frankie glided into the house through the side wall, right through the ceramic Santa in a sleigh that I’d perched in front of the parlor window.
Frankie always appeared in black and white, like a character out of an old movie, only transparent enough that I could still see through him. He wore a twenties-era pin-striped suit with cuffed trousers and a wide tie, and a fedora pulled low enough to cover the bullet hole a few inches above the bridge of his nose. You wouldn’t know it was Christmas to look at him. Frankie didn’t change much from season to season.
Frankie stopped short. “Nice look,” he said, smirking at me. “Very classy.”
I wiped the pear juice from my lower lip. “This is cute and comfortable.” A combination I didn’t take for granted, especially after tonight.
Frankie shot me a wry smirk. “I mean your sweater is on inside out.”
Oh.
“I don’t care,” I said, resisting the urge to pop into the bathroom and fix it.
“Neither do I.” The gangster shrugged. “You could be wearing a burlap sack for all it matters,” he added, eyeing Lucy, who curled around my legs, chewing her fruity gift with gusto. She didn’t flee like she typically did when Frankie showed up. The lure of fresh pears was too strong for her to resist. “Anyway,” Frankie said, halting on the other side of the kitchen island to stare at the pear sculpture, “it’s a good thing you’re here.”
That was a welcome change from the way my day had been going.
He tugged on his shirt cuffs. “I need you to straighten out the lights on my shed. They’re as crooked as a Chicago politician.”
“Icicle lights aren’t meant to hang perfectly symmetrical,” I explained, going for another slice of pear.
“Molly’s coming by in less than two hours, and I’ve got everything else perfect for her,” he went on. Then he leaned in conspiratorially and said, “I made her an aspic salad.”
“Aspic?” I racked my brain for a second, then clapped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “Wait, you made her a Jell-O salad for Christmas?”
“It’s fancy!” Frankie insisted. “It’s that newfangled lime flavor, and it’s got cream cheese and cherries and nuts in it—perfect for the holidays! I even
made it in a mold! The thing’s almost a foot tall.” He looked so proud of himself, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Jell-O salads had gone out of vogue decades ago. What was a decade to Frankie, after all?
“Eh, what do you know?” Frankie said, waving off my amusement.
“She’ll be here in around two hours, you said?” I asked, slowly cutting another piece of pear and chewing it like a sloth on vacation.
“More like one and a half! Come on, it’s not like I can move ’em myself.”
That was true. Frankie couldn’t affect the regular world other than manifesting the occasional cold spot. But he could lend me his power to interact with the other side, and that had been a game changer.
Frankie’s power was the reason I became a ghost hunter. But it didn’t mean I always enjoyed seeing him. I’d had my fill of difficult people tonight—dead or alive.
I put both elbows on the kitchen island and started nibbling on another pear slice. “I’ll be out as soon as I’m done with this.” It wouldn’t do him any good for me to get it done faster. I knew my housemate well. He was fidgety already, and the longer he had to wait, the less time he’d have to think of other things I could do for him.
“Well, I don’t want you to get sidetracked,” Frankie stated as if I usually flitted from thought to thought like a butterfly in a field of flowers. “You’re going to forget all about me when you see who’s coming up to your back door.”
“Who?” I asked, skirting past Lucy to take a peek out the back window. Maybe Ellis had returned to spend the evening with me. Most of the time, he parked out back if he was staying the night. Maybe he’d stood up to Virginia and wanted to tell me all about it.
But I didn’t see him or any car.
I opened the back door, letting in a gust of cold air, and saw only my white wooden back porch, with its empty swing and the pair of silk poinsettias flanking the stairs.
“I don’t see anyone.” I didn’t hear a thing, and Lucy wasn’t acting like she’d noticed a soul.
“You will,” Frankie said. A second later, he hit me with his power.
5
I gasped like I’d been drenched with a bucket of ice water. Everything tingled, including the roots of my hair and the tips of my fingernails. I swear, no matter how many times he zapped me, I still wasn’t used to the feeling I got when Frankie shared his power.
“Gentler next time,” I pleaded through clenched teeth.
“Whoops,” Frankie said, with no real regret. But I forgot about him as a ghost began to take shape outside my door.
I recognized her immediately.
Donna had died in her sleep two years ago. I’d gone to her funeral. And now she stood on my back porch, appearing exactly as I remembered: messy gray braid falling halfway down her back, flannel shirt and corduroys, and a face so wrinkled that when she smiled, I could hardly see her eyes. Just looking at her warmed my heart.
“Verity Long.” She broke into a broad, expectant smile while I stifled a gasp. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry to barge in from the dead and all, but it is so good to see you!”
“Stars.” I could scarce believe my eyes. “You are welcome anytime,” I managed, and I meant it with all my heart.
The woman who stood before me was a wonder. A lifesaver. Donna Lankin had changed my life for the better on a chilly Christmas Eve exactly three years ago tonight.
“You remember Lucy,” I said, stepping aside as my skunk tore past me out of the kitchen and straight for the woman who had helped rescue her.
Donna had been on call at the animal rescue the night I found Lucy. December had been bitter cold that year, and I’d almost missed the little black and white puffball shivering in the sprinkle of snow gathered in a dip in the road leading up to my house.
When I stopped to take a closer look, I found Lucy, tiny and sick and all alone. She’d gazed up at me with those big black eyes, and I knew I had to do everything I could to help her—even though I’d had no idea what to do with a skunk, much less a baby. I pulled off my scarf and wrapped her up in the warm wool blend, then took her home and called the woman with the biggest heart in Sugarland.
Donna had been amazing, showering me with every bit of reassurance and competence I so desperately needed that night. She’d explained Lucy had been born in the fall—late for skunks—and most likely orphaned by a careless driver. She’d brought supplies for bottle feeding and a lot of practical advice on how to care for a skunk in my home.
Keeping Lucy had been the only option.
“It’s not legal to keep skunks as pets in Tennessee,” Donna had explained sadly, brushing a wisp of her long gray hair behind her ear, “but she’s so young that if we nursed her back to health and then set her free again, she’d likely die anyway.” At that point, I’d have cut my own arm off before giving up Lucy. Donna understood. She gave me the contact information of a sympathetic veterinarian who would treat her without reporting me, and she made plenty of follow-up visits to make sure Lucy and I were settling in well together.
“My, what a big girl,” Donna gushed as Lucy ran right up to her and waddled in a happy circle around her intangible Wellies. “How’s my girl, hmm? How’s my sweet baby girl?” Donna cooed, bending over to get closer. “Oooh, I want to kiss your cute little nose, yes I do!”
Lucy grunted with pure joy. She shivered from the cold of the ghost, but she didn’t let it stop her from getting close. Mind over matter, I supposed. Any actual touch between a living being and a spirit would deliver a chilling shock to both, but Lucy wasn’t afraid to skirt the line. My skunk had always been a daredevil, and I think it was the first time in all her skunky life that she’d ever been fall-down happy to see a ghost.
Obviously, Donna had left an impression on her. Lord knows she’d left one on me. I’d never met anyone who bonded with animals like Donna, like they were instantly part of her family whether she spent a day or a year with them. She’d been as kind to me, too. I almost wished she’d stopped by before now.
“I see this little one remembers me just fine,” Donna said. “You always were a smart one,” she confided in Lucy before straightening up from her crouch with a chuckle. “What a lovely lady she’s become. I can tell she’s so happy here.”
“We both are,” I agreed, a little choked up. “She’s a gift.” We watched Lucy as she danced a circle around the ghost. She gave a wet shiver and a sneeze before gazing up adoringly at her rescuer. I knew how she felt. “I’m so glad to see you, Donna,” I said, recovering. “Would you care to come inside?”
I didn’t have any ghostly refreshments, but I could probably persuade Frankie to get something for her. I’d have to ask about keeping something on hand for ghostly guests.
“I’d love nothing better, Verity, but not tonight,” Donna said, sticking with her spot on the porch. “I’m really not in Sugarland all that often,” she said, as if embarrassed to admit leaving our small town. “I never thought I’d get around in the afterlife better than I did in real life, but it is rather fantastic. Not to mention”—she glanced down with a satisfied expression—“no more creaky knees!”
“That is a plus,” I said with a laugh. Donna could teach a master class in looking on the bright side. She was the ray of sunshine I needed after what I’d been through tonight.
“Anyway, honey, I’m only in Sugarland today because I wanted to be here for my daughter’s first Christmas with my new grandbaby, and as long as I was around, I thought I’d visit some of my old haunts—ha—and see if I could locate any animals in need of help. I’ve been at it all day,” she confided. “That’s why I’m a tad flimsy right now.”
“Oh, you look great,” I said automatically. Although now that I thought about it, she was more transparent than most of the ghosts I’d encountered. It seemed she’d been using a lot of energy lately.
Lucy returned to me, and I scooped her up and warmed her against my chest.
“I’ve already guided several of my former volunteers just a teensy w
ay off of their paths to find animals in need,” Donna explained. “In fact, I just helped Bree locate a nest of baby raccoons that were in danger of freezing to death over near Wilson’s Creek. Poor things.” She shook her head. “Too many folks driving too fast, and right through their habitats,” she said, her eyes welling up a bit. “Their mama was never coming back. Just like with Miss Lucy here.”
I held Lucy closer. “I’m so sorry,” I said, wishing we had a hundred more people like Donna.
She wiped her eyes. “At least those babies will be looked after proper.”
Lucy struggled against my embrace. “She has an independent streak,” I explained, letting her down as Donna sniffled out a laugh.
“Just like you,” she teased before gasping at my little skunk, who’d gone all out for Donna’s attention by doing a handstand and waving her hind paws in the air. In any other skunk, it would be a threat display. For Lucy, it was the ultimate bid for affection. “Oh my, I wish I had a treat for you!”
“She’s not short on treats,” I said, thinking of the mound of pears waiting to be eaten inside.
“I don’t doubt it,” she said. “At any rate, honey, I don’t mean to take up your Christmas Eve, but I need a favor.”
“I knew it,” Frankie said from the kitchen.
I hadn’t even known he’d been listening.
“Anything for you,” I told Donna.
I could practically hear Frankie slapping his forehead. Well, it was true. I owed Donna so much. And it wasn’t as if I had anything else to do right now.
“I knew I could count on you,” Donna said, reaching to clasp my hands before thinking better of it. “I’ve got one last rescue that needs to be done tonight, and I can’t get any of my regular volunteers on it. The place is haunted, you see.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I didn’t realize why this particular old mill gave me the willies when I was alive, but now that I’m dead, I get it. It’s pure instinct for people to stay away from spots that are full of spirits.”
