Moonlight Dancer

by Mona Ingram

  Charlie considered the question. “I guess not.” She leaned the broom against one of the booths, thoughts of cleaning gone from her head. “Why me, though? What’s going on? Do you have any idea?”

  “I think you’re supposed to help me.”

  She looked up sharply “Help you? How?”

  He spoke cautiously, as though afraid his words would frighten her off. “I suppose you know that Charlotte and I were to meet here on the evening of the full moon?”

  “Yes, I know.” Charlie grinned. “Romantic and practical at the same time.”

  He nodded. “And did you hear that she continued to come here every time there was a full moon?” His jaw tightened. “Until she died?”

  “Yes.” Charlie could feel his pain.

  “Well, she’s still coming.” The dark eyes assessed her reaction.

  “Here? To the dance hall?” Charlie looked around as though her ancestor might appear. “Now that’s spooky.”

  His eyes glinted with amusement. “Spookier than talking to a ghost? ‘Cause that’s what you’re doing right now.”

  “Yeah, but…” Charlie clamped her mouth shut. He was right. “Wait a minute. You say she’s still coming here. Does that mean you can see her?”

  A cloud of pain passed in front of his eyes and he nodded his head. “That’s the hard part. I can see her, but she can’t see me. This happens every time there’s a full moon.”

  “This is crazy.”

  “I agree. The two of us are caught up in this impossible situation.”

  “Listen. I don’t mean to sound like I don’t care, but why don’t you just leave?” She waved a hand in the air. “Go away. Wherever it is you’re supposed to go.”

  His eyes pleaded with her for understanding. “I couldn’t do that. We promised to meet here no matter what, and I won’t break my promise.” He twisted a gold ring on his left hand. “I loved her with all my heart” he murmured softly, “and I’m hoping that you can help us somehow. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to see her here, looking for me, waiting for me? And I can’t reach her. If only we could see each other, I’m sure we could leave.” He looked around sadly. “This was where we fell in love and you’re right, it’s time to move on. But we have to do that together.”

  Charlie’s gaze fell on the gold ring. Was he married? She had a sudden urge to protect Charlotte. “What is that? It looks like a wedding ring.”

  He looked down at the ring. “It would have been. We both had them. She wore hers on a chain around her neck so her parents wouldn’t see it. They were our link to each other while I was away working.

  Charlie wondered if Charlotte’s ring was tucked away in one of the trunks. But what if it was? How could it make a difference? “I just don’t know how I could help,” she said, almost to herself. “I wish I could think of something.”

  A wave of desolation crashed over her, a sure sign that Charlotte was with her. “I’ll try to come up with something” she promised, and the sensation eased. “I can do that much, at least.” What had she just agreed to? She had no idea, but she had to try. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  The figure nodded and turned away. “Wait,” she called. “What’s your name? I should know that much, at least.”

  He turned back. “Harmon Rogers. My friends call me Harm.”

  “And what did Charlotte call you? Or is that too personal?”

  “She called me Sweetheart.” His eyes glowed with love and Charlie ached for him. He took a step back toward the door, a stark silhouette against the light.

  “They call me Charlie.”

  “Charlie” he repeated, and a faint smile touched his lips. “Suits you,” he said, and disappeared through the door.

  Charlie gazed after him for a moment and then picked up the broom. “What have I gotten myself into?” she asked aloud. “Why did I promise to try to help?” The lovely, haunted eyes of Charlotte hovered before her, and the answer was clear. Although remote, her kinship with the determined young woman was more than just hereditary. Charlotte had been trying to contact her; she knew that now. The first sign had been the teapot filled with lavender and then the teapot had been moved to the trunk, prompting her to explore inside. Charlotte was trying to lead her to the answer but Charlie couldn’t quite make the connection…at least not yet. She had to try. For Harm as well as for Charlotte.

  She straightened up and looked around, surprised to find that she’d finished the sweeping. Jason would be here any minute. Lost in thought, she put away the broom and turned to find him standing in the doorway.

  “Jason, I’m so glad you’re here” she said breathlessly. “It’s been quite a day.”

  “Is that good?” He took a step forward.

  “Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know. I’m so mixed up. Would you just take me home?”

  “Sure.” He stood by silently while she locked up. “Is it something I did?”

  “What? Oh, no.” She laid a hand on his arm. It was solid, comforting. “It’s nothing like that.”

  He held the door of the pickup while she climbed in, following her every movement. Charlie tried to smile, but it wasn’t very convincing. She stared out the window, barely noticing the row of grain elevators reaching up into the summer sky. In her mind, she was back at the dance hall.

  She wasn’t bothered by the fact that she’d been talking to a ghost. What bothered her was that she’d foolishly agreed to help in a situation that was clearly going nowhere. She stifled a groan of frustration. Okay, so she could sense Charlotte’s emotions, that much was true. But that didn’t mean she could bring the lovers back together after so many years. What had she been thinking?

  With a deep sigh she turned her attention to Jason, who was sending worried glances her way. “Sorry” she said. “I was somewhere else.”

  “No kidding.”

  She leaned back against the car door and studied his profile. He was one of the most appealing men she’d ever known and there was no doubt in her mind that she wanted to get to know him better. But if she told him what had happened, how would he react? There was only one way to find out.

  “Do you remember how I told you I can sense people around me?”

  He nodded slowly.

  “And do you remember at the dance it was as if I became someone else?”

  His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “I remember.”

  “I know who it is.” It was a relief to share it with him and the words spilled out. “It’s my great great aunt Charlotte. She used to live in the farmhouse and she died of a broken heart.”

  “Charlie, come on.”

  “No. Wait.” She reached across the seat and touched his shoulder, silently begging him to hear her out. “There’s more. She fell in love with a cowboy from Montana. His name is Harm Rogers. They were going to elope, but he was killed. Her trunks are still in the attic, all packed and ready to go. I’ve felt her presence up there, too.”

  “But what does this have to do with you?” He was looking straight ahead, but she could tell he was frowning.

  She had to keep trying. “I’m not sure, except for the fact that I’m related to Charlotte. But I do know one thing; I’m supposed to help them”

  “Help them?” This time he looked at her. She didn’t need any special powers to see his disbelief…it was written all over his face. Her heart sank.

  “Yes, help them.” She took a deep breath. “You see, I’ve talked to Harm twice. In the dance hall.”

  “Whoa there.” They were nearing the farm. He pulled the truck over to the side of the road, turned to her and tipped his Stetson to the back of his head. “I want to make sure I’m hearing this right. You’re telling me you’ve talked to a ghost?” He searched her face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  She nodded, unable to trust her voice.

  “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but what did he say?”

  She had lost him; she knew it from the tone of his voice. But she’d come this far, she
had to go on. Fighting back the tears that burned behind her eyes she sat up straighter, composing herself to speak.

  “I saw him for the first time the day before yesterday. We only exchanged a few words before we were interrupted. But today he came again and we talked for quite a while. Jason, he told me how Charlotte still comes to the dance hall looking for him!” In her eagerness, she edged closer to him. “You see, her parents didn’t want them to be married. They were to meet at the dance hall on the evening of the full moon. After he was killed she continued to go back every time the moon was full.” She tilted her head, trying to coax a smile out of him. “Kind of romantic, don’t you think?”

  His face remained stony, but Charlie refused to be put off. He might not be able to accept what she was telling him, but she was going to finish. Besides, it was helping her to put it all into words.

  “Anyway, she died of a broken heart but according to Harm she still comes to the dance hall looking for him. He can see her but she can’t see him.” She threw up her hands. “He thinks I can help them get together. Crazy, huh?”

  He slid across the seat and for a moment Charlie thought he was going to kiss her. But he simply stared into her eyes.

  “What are you doing?” She backed away from the intense scrutiny.

  “I was looking to see if your pupils were dilated.”

  It took a moment for his words to sink in. When they did, she pulled back as though she’d been slapped. “Jason Fleming, that’s a low blow.”

  “Come on, Charlie. You’re taking this whole thing too far.” He pounded a fist against the steering wheel. “This is reality, and trust me, there are no ghosts in reality.”

  She stared at the stranger beside her. “You don’t believe me, do you?” She gave a strangled laugh. “Don’t hold back, I can take it. You think I’m making this up, don’t you?”

  His beautiful eyes had turned cold. The gentle blue of summer skies had turned to ice. “I don’t know what to think Charlie.”

  “Well I do!” She yanked on the door handle and stepped out into the blazing afternoon sun. She swung the truck door as hard as she could, hoping for a satisfying slam, but it closed with a pathetic ‘clunk’. She came around to the driver’s side, anger seething deep inside, and spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I thought you’d at least listen with an open mind.” She was in no danger of crying now; she was far too angry. “I didn’t imagine it and you know perfectly well I don’t use drugs. I’m going to try to bring them together, Jason. I was hoping you’d want to help me, but I can see that isn’t going to happen.” She tossed her head in an attempt to mask how much he’d hurt her. “I said I’d try and that’s what I’m going to do.” She started the hike to her driveway, and then turned back. He was sitting rock still in the driver’s seat, watching her. “I think we’d better not see each other for a few days. I’m going to be busy.” She met his eyes. “And to think I took dancing lessons for you.” She turned and walked away.

  “Charlie!” His voice was confused, desperate, but she was too hurt to give in. It wasn’t until she was halfway down Janelle’s driveway that she heard the truck start up.

  “Well Charlie, you really did it this time” she said aloud, but her step lightened. She’d made a promise, and she intended to keep it.

  * * *

  “Hi.” Charlie stopped in the doorway and the screen door banged lightly against her back.

  Janelle was working at the sink. “Do you like potato salad?” she asked. “I thought we could have a cold dinner tonight.”

  Charlie hated potato salad. “I love it, but I’m not very hungry.”

  “Oh? Did Jason take you for something to eat?” Janelle busied herself tearing lettuce into chunks for a green salad.

  Charlie watched with relief. At least she could eat that convincingly. “No.” She reached for a glass and poured herself some lemonade. The cool, tart liquid soothed her jagged nerves. “Jason and I aren’t going to see each other for a few days. “We’ve had a misunderstanding.”

  “But Charlie…” Janelle looked stricken.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it right now. Jason and I have to work this out between us.”

  She was aware of the effort it took for her aunt not to push any further. “All right,” she said at last. “But as I said before, I’m here to listen if you need to talk.”

  Tears pooled in Charlie’s eyes. “Thanks, Janelle. Thank you for understanding.”

  Janelle snatched a couple of tissues from a box on the counter and handed them to her. “I’ll bet you don’t feel like eating dinner at all, do you?” She brushed a wisp of hair away from Charlie’s eyes. “So I tell you what. Eat whenever you like and we’ll leave it at that. I’m not going anywhere tonight, although Jack may come over for a while. I’ll either be here, or in the barn.”

  Charlie nodded and started for the stairs. “Oh, by the way. Could you contact Tyler and tell him I won’t need my dance lesson tomorrow? I don’t think Jason and I will be going out on Saturday.”

  Janelle opened her mouth to speak and then closed it.

  “He’s an amazing teacher. I’ll catch up with him as soon as I can and thank him.

  Janelle laughed. “Don’t worry about that. This is a small town; we’ll be sure to run into him. Anyway, he’s started coming to The Trip again, and you’ll be going with me sometimes, right?”

  Charlie avoided the question. “That reminds me, I still have a bit more cleaning to do. Can I use the truck tomorrow?”

  “Absolutely. I have no plans for tomorrow.”

  Chapter Nine

  Charlie plodded up the stairs and went directly to her room. Not surprisingly, she was tired after everything that had happened.

  She lay down on her bed and Jason’s face shimmered before her like a judgmental mirage. Blue eyes that had regarded her with such tenderness as recently as last night were now cold, unbelieving. Then his face dissolved, replaced by Harm Rogers, silently pleading for her help.

  “Go away!” she moaned, rolling over. “Would everyone just go away and leave me alone.”

  * * *

  Chill evening air woke Charlie and she sat up groggily. Voices floated up from the porch. She hadn’t heard Jack arrive, but his rich baritone mingled pleasingly with Janelle’s silvery laughter.

  That could have been me, she thought sadly. Sharing a moment with Jason. But no, I had to make a promise to a ghost. And yet…a quiver of awareness made her look around. And yet, she knew she was doing the right thing. Now where to start?

  She stood at the bottom of the attic steps, staring up the narrow passageway. The enclosed space appeared even more daunting at night. She had to move now, or she’d lose her nerve. She fought back her fear, pulled the light chain and ran up the stairs. Once inside the attic door she fumbled for the light switch, calming her pounding heart. The weak bulb cast enough light to make her way to ‘her’ corner. Oddly shaped shadows rose up behind items that been stored and forgotten for years. Finding solace in the comfortable corner, she turned on the table lamp and sank gratefully into the chair, one hand clutched over her racing heart.

  And then she saw it. The lid of the trunk was up! Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared at the trunk.

  Her thoughts raced as she took in the rest of the room, where everything was as before. Her gaze reluctantly returned to the trunk. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out; the trunk held something important…something that would bring Charlotte and Harm back together.

  Charlie re-examined the linens in the top tray. There was nothing there. No secret message stitched into the pillowcases, no treasure map where X marked the spot. With a snort of derision at her wild imaginings, she lifted the top tray out and set it aside. The sheets, tablecloths and blankets were undisturbed. What message could they possibly hold? Determined to exhaust every possibility she fell to her knees. Could there be some sort of message…a letter perhaps…stuck between the folds? Slowly and
methodically she ran her hand between each layer of fabric.

  Near the bottom of the trunk, between layers of crisp linen sheets, her hand brushed up against something solid. She reached farther, and her heart started to race. Her fingers closed around a leather-bound book. Fearing disappointment, she hesitated. It was probably a Bible. Well, she wouldn’t get the answer sitting here. She withdrew the item slowly, almost reverently.

  Her fingers traced gold-embossed words on the cover. “My Journal” she said aloud. This was what she had been meant to find. With utmost care, she replaced everything in the trunk, replaced the tray and closed the lid. The journal had waited all this time, it could wait a moment or two more.

  Satisfied that everything had been returned to its original position, she settled into the chair to read.

  * * *

  “Wendy, where are you?” Jason’s voice seemed to echo in the house since the boys were away.

  “Down here.”

  He should have known. Wendy was like his mother, who had preferred to work in the cooler summer kitchen. Surprisingly, some of his favourite memories were of the summer he’d contracted a severe case of poison ivy. To while away the time during his recuperation, he had watched his mother bake. If he closed his eyes, he could picture her hands kneading bread. The yeasty small of loaves rising still made him itch uncomfortably.

  “I’m making some butter tarts to take over to Laurel. Did you hear that her mother fell and broke her hip?”

  Jason ran his finger inside the bowl and licked the rich filling absent-mindedly. “Yeah, I did. Charlie volunteered to clean The Trip this week.” He reached inside the bowl a second time.

  “Stop that!” Wendy batted at his hand. “How is Charlie, anyway?”

  He rolled his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable. “That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Wendy filled the last tart shell and slid the tray into the oven. Then she started to clean the table. “What is it, Jason?”