by Callie Norse
“What now?” he thought.
He kept hearing the paramedic’s words, “Mr. Carrington… I’m sorry… she’s gone… she’s gone… she’s gone…” The words kept ringing in his ears. He felt he would go crazy if they didn’t stop.
He knelt down to light the fireplace. The house seemed chilly and empty. He couldn’t get warm. After the fireplace was aglow, he noticed the sofa pillows were on the floor, exactly where he and Lisa used to place them when they lay in front of the fireplace. He lay down and put his head on one of the pillows. He began to feel warmth surrounding him. Suddenly, his lips felt as if he was being kissed. Oh, such soft, wonderful lips—Lisa’s lips. His belt was being unbuckled and his pants were sliding down his legs. He could almost feel Lisa’s fingers inside the elastic of his briefs, removing them. He became aroused at the thought of it.
“I must be asleep and dreaming,” he thought.
He lay there stripped naked from the waist down, feeling aroused and somewhat confused at the same time. Then, one by one the buttons popped off of his shirt. The shirt slipped off first one shoulder, then the other. “This has to be a dream,” he surmised. “There is no way clothes take themselves off.” Soon, he had a sensation of weight on his thighs and his erection felt as if it was being guided, until it felt warmth and enclosure. “What the heck?” He was now feeling wonderfully aroused. “No, it can’t be!” He reached out, wrapped his arms around Lisa and began to move in rhythm with her. Oh, how he had missed her! How he had missed moments like this. He wanted to make this moment last forever. She was now riding him faster. Each stroke became more intense. He imagined he could hear her moaning. She climaxed, falling limp on his chest, her sensuous breasts upon his bare chest. She was there embracing his body.
He carried her upstairs to his bed—their bed—where he lay there holding her, never wanting to let go. He knew if this was for real, she could not stay. He wanted to make love to her one last time. He rolled her onto her back and rose above her, settling between her thighs and again made love to her. He wondered how this was possible—making love to a spirit—his beautiful Lisa, now a spirit. This was difficult to grasp. He would enjoy her warmth and love while he could. He thought he could hear her pleasure…her climax, just moments before he deposited his love inside her. At least he thought he had. He lay down beside her. As he lay there, he could feel her wonderful breasts against his bare skin. He laid his head upon them, thinking, “If only this was for real.”
For a moment he saw an outline of a glowing figure. Yes, it was Lisa in a beautiful spirit form. She was radiant. Sometime in the middle of the night, he fell asleep, embracing Lisa’s spirit form.
He awoke the next morning, remembering what he had felt the night before—the most beautiful dream one could ever have—or was it? He longed so for Lisa. The dream had made him miss her more.
Five
The house was far too quiet these days. Losing Lisa was the most difficult thing Greg had ever experienced in his life. The days were long and painful. At times, it seemed as if it was all a bad dream, with the reality of it hitting him in the next moment. The house now seemed huge.
Maggie was spending most of her time in the sewing room. Greg was unable to interest her in anything else for more than a few minutes at a time. She would sit for hours reading to her babies, talking, and giggling. Greg had moved an easy chair from the parlor into this room to be closer to Maggie. He had to admit, there was a certain warmth about this room. He would attempt to read, his thoughts always going back to Lisa. He had rethought their life together starting from the first day he met her in geometry class, to their first prom, to the day they married, to the day she became pregnant with Maggie, to the day they bought the house, to the day she got sick, to that horrible day when she died.
The dream he had after Lisa’s funeral was always there, flashing through his mind, along with all the memories. He went to bed each night hoping this night would be the night he would again dream of her. The phrase, it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all, rang through his mind. He now was beginning to doubt that phrase, because if he had never known such a love, he wouldn’t miss Lisa so much. He knew there would never be another Lisa, never be another love like he had with her. The days were difficult. There seemed to be little to live for. Marta and Lori had tried to help him. They had brought in food, and Marta had come to the house and prepared some meals. Neither knew how to draw him out of his depression. His work was suffering. He knew he had to pull himself together—but how?
The phone rang. It was Marta. “Greg, have you looked outside?”
“No, I can’t say as I have, not in the past couple of hours. I’ve been sitting here trying to catch up on some reading. I’m not getting too far though, my concentration isn’t there.”
“It’s snowing. It’s coming down in big, beautiful flakes. You know…Chestnut opened recently. This snow makes me want to get my skis out and brush up. It has been a long time; I didn’t get out last year. My business was requiring too much of my time. I haven’t been since…” Her words trailed off as she almost slipped and said she hadn’t been since she and Lisa went the winter before last. “I’m afraid I’m really rusty. I could use your support. Do you suppose you could go with me Saturday?”
Greg, reluctantly, agreed to help her. He still wasn’t into much of anything—it had only been two months since Lisa’s death. Skiing was something he and Lisa did together. Actually, he and Lisa had done almost everything together. Everything he did, reminded him of her because of this.
What Greg didn’t know, was that Marta and Lori had devised this plan. Lori had already asked Greg if they could have Maggie for the weekend. They wanted Maggie to come see their new puppy and help with choosing a name for her. Marta had always had a bit of a crush on Greg and she knew Lisa had known this. It had never bothered Lisa, as Marta was her best friend and she would never betray her. Greg never knew about this crush. The three of them were friends, nothing more. After Lisa’s death, Lori decided to tell Marta of Lisa’s wish. Marta had no idea of this, although it didn’t actually surprise her. When Lori suggested the skiing outing, Marta wasn’t so sure it was a good idea, as Lisa hadn’t been gone that long. It didn’t seem right. Lori had convinced her that Greg was not doing well, and he needed help to bring him out of this. He needed a friend, and for now that was all it need be, a companion to help him through this difficult time. Lori had finally convinced her to ask Greg to go skiing with her.
After talking to Marta, Greg decided to go out to the carriage house to check on the condition of his skis. He remembered having stored them in the loft of the stable. He felt a bit unsettled about returning to the stable and even more so about going into the loft. He didn’t like leaving Maggie alone in the house. Therefore, he placed her old baby monitor by her bed. He grabbed the receiver from the parlor on his way out to the carriage house. He knew if she needed him, he would hear her. The night was dark and cold. Winter was definitely setting in. A chill went through his body at the thought of returning to the stable. He hadn’t been in this area of the carriage house in some time. He had tried to block the mysterious, red substance from his mind. He had enough to think about with Lisa’s passing.
As he entered the carriage house and walked toward the stable, an eerie feeling came over him. Perhaps he should have waited until daylight to venture into this part of the carriage house. He was relieved to find the stable free from any crimson fluid. As he climbed the ladder to the loft, the eeriness intensified—the cold chill turned frigid. He slowly raised the trap door. A stench, the smell of rotting flesh, hit him immediately. He climbed into the loft, making sure the trap door was secured open, in case he had to make a quick escape. He grabbed the flashlight, which he kept by the trap door, and shined it into the loft. Sure enough, the sticky substance was back. It covered a large part of the loft floor; the smell was extremely offensive. Greg grabbed his skis and fled through the trap door and down the ladd
er.
As he ran to the house, he remembered he left the monitor receiver in the stable. There was no way he would go back there tonight. He left the skis in the servants’ entrance and ran up the steps to Maggie’s room. She was fast asleep. He turned the monitor off, so nothing could be heard in the stable. There was no other word for his feelings except spooked—and no explanation to be found for this. What the hell was happening? He thought of Lisa and was so glad she never knew of any of this—so glad she didn’t have to feel what he was feeling tonight. He knew that he must return to the stable soon to rid it of the substance and the stench, before it consumed the entire carriage house. He had left in such a hurry that the trap door was left open. This made him feel even more uncomfortable.
The next morning, after he saw Maggie off to school, he again went back to the carriage house stable and climbed the ladder into the loft. Much to his disbelief, there was no red, sticky substance—no stench. This was even more puzzling to him than the appearance of the substance. He grabbed the receiver and walked back to the house rather stunned.
Needless to say, he didn’t accomplish much at work that day. He was glad Maggie was going to Lori’s for the night, as he was uneasy with her being at the house, at this time. Lori picked Maggie up from school and dropped by the house long enough to help her pack a suitcase. Before leaving the house, Maggie ran into the sewing room. Her attachment to the sewing room was a mystery to all. She was in and right out, almost as if she had to tell it good-bye.
Steve greeted them at the farm with an adorable little, white bichon fries puppy. It was love at first sight. She was wearing a tiny pink collar with a tiny silver bell that jingled as she ran about. Maggie giggled as she played with her.
Lori wished Lisa could see her so happy with the little pup. Then she thought, “Well, maybe she can.”
“I will call her Tinker Bell,” giggled Maggie, “for the way her little bell jingles like Tinker Bell in Peter Pan.”
“Oh, how cute! Why didn’t we think of that, Steve?” They had known Maggie would come up with a cute name.
Maggie soon wore Tinker Bell out. She fell asleep on Maggie’s lap.
Greg spent the evening alone. He was consumed with the red substance issue. Never had anything mystified him so. How could the substance have disappeared? The stench had been grossly overwhelming, yet it was gone a short time later. He had thought it would take an extremely strong air freshener to rid the stable of such a stench. It made no sense, but he was grateful he didn’t have to battle the odor or clean up the mess.
He cleaned his skis and prepared them for the next day, never going near the stable. He was determined he wouldn’t go near the stable for some time now, if he could avoid it. The night was long. He needed to confide in someone about this, soon. So far he had kept it to himself. He had hesitated to tell anyone, thinking it was too unbelievable. He wouldn’t believe it himself, if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.
*****
Greg was up early the next morning. He hadn’t slept well. How could he, with the reoccurrence of the red fluid? It weighed heavily on his mind. Skiing, now, was a welcome idea. Maybe this would keep his mind off of this nightmare for awhile, but would skiing make him think about Lisa more? Life certainly was not easy these days.
The Tahoe was parked in the carriage house. Greg didn’t relish the idea of entering the building to retrieve his vehicle. He tried to convince himself it wouldn’t be a problem, as the stable was at the other end of the carriage house. He went out early and cleared the drive of the four inches of new snow and proceeded to go into the carriage house. It showed no signs of any problem. He quickly backed the Tahoe out, closed, and locked the doors. Maybe he would start leaving the Tahoe out. Why should he put himself through this every time he needed the vehicle? He returned to the house and drank another cup of coffee, while he waited for time to pass. It was too early to pick Marta up.
He drove into Marta’s drive a few minutes before eight. She flew out the door, wearing a sky blue ski jacket and pants, with a blue snowflake design ski cap. Grabbing her skis off the porch, like a small child, she shuffled her feet through the snow, as she walked toward Greg. Oh, how she loved new fallen snow. Greg took her skis from her, raised the back hatch on the Tahoe, and laid them inside.
“How about if I clean that sidewalk off for you?”
“And take the neighbor kid’s profit from him? We have an understanding that whenever it snows, he is to come over and shovel my walks. It’s early yet. You know how young kids are. They like to sleep in on Saturdays. He will be here soon, I’m sure.”
Marta couldn’t help but think how handsome Greg looked in his navy and white ski suit. He definitely was a dreamy looking guy—everything about him was dreamy, in her eyes. He locked the hatch and opened the passenger door for Marta. As they drove off, he was thinking how strange it was to have Marta in the seat beside him, instead of Lisa. Would he ever get used to Lisa being gone?
It was a short drive to the ski resort. The parking lot was already filling. Greg was glad they had their own skis and boots, so they wouldn’t have to go through that line. They checked in and got lockers, put their boots on, bought ski lift tickets, and were on the ski lift in just a few short minutes, while others were still waiting to rent skis.
The view from the ski lift was breathtaking, as always, as Chestnut is perched high on a bluff overlooking the expansive Mississippi river. It looks as if you could ski right to the edge of the river. Of the seventeen trails, Marta had chosen Old Main, as she needed to brush up on her skiing a bit before she tackled one of the more advanced trails.
As Marta went down slightly ahead of Greg, he was thinking, “That’s rusty?” She even skied like Lisa. They had skied together so much they had begun to ski alike. They had always loved the jumps—one trying to outdo the other—although not really. They were always the best of friends. They had always had so much fun together, regardless of what they were doing. Watching Marta’s beautiful style, as she glided down the mountain, made him realize how much she even looked like Lisa. She had the same trim build and the same color hair, although Marta’s was a little longer than Lisa had kept hers.
Marta rapidly went through all the intermediate trails, until she felt she was now ready for the Eagle, which was one of the most difficult and advanced slopes.
“Are you sure you are up for the Eagle?” Greg asked. “Remember, you’re rusty!” He laughed, as he spoke. She definitely was not rusty!
“Would you look at that!” Marta thought to herself, as she heard Greg laughing. It was the first real laugh she had heard since Lisa died. Yes, skiing was a wonderful idea.
They both were having a marvelous time. The day passed quickly, until they were soon in the Tahoe headed back home.
“Greg, I have been thinking about your third floor. You know, I have never seen it. Lisa was always going to take me up there. We never seemed to get around to it. Do you suppose you could give me the tour today?”
“I don’t see why not. Actually, I have never been up there. The realtor said it wasn’t livable in its present state, and we didn’t need the room. I started to check it out several times. There was so much going on that I never got up there. I had enough on my mind with the renovations for the downstairs, then the move, and then…” he hesitated a minute, “then, with Lisa so sick my attention was on her. One day, she was wanting us to go up there, but she decided she was too weak to take those steep narrow steps.” They pulled into the drive just as the sun was setting.
Greg lit the logs in the parlor fireplace, so they could warm up and dry off before going up to the mansard. He then poured some wine for the two of them, a mild chardonnay, to relax by.
Marta had never been up the back stairs, which led to a small sitting room. From there, they opened the door to the enclosed third floor stairs. As Greg opened the door, they both detected a stench, which was all too familiar to Greg. He switched on the rather primitive light, to see the famili
ar red stuff.
“What the heck is that?” screamed Marta.
Greg explained to her how it had appeared twice before. He was glad to be able to share this secret, which he had kept to himself long enough. He hurried down the steep back stairs to get some rags from the basement—Marta close at his heels. There was no way he was leaving her upstairs by herself!
Once the substance was cleaned up, they climbed the steep stairs to the third floor. As they approached the large main room, they could see the disarray of many stored items. Marta was anxious to rummage through these items. They were old, and more than likely there were some valuables in some of the boxes. Regardless, there was sure to be some interesting items. Marta was surprised at the ten foot high ceilings. From the outside, one would have never known the ceilings were so high. There was substantial space here, as there were four bedrooms plus this large room that more than likely had been a sitting room for the servants.
Marta opened a large closet to find many old framed portraits. She studied each and every one, becoming very interested in one—a young girl not much older than her teens, possibly early twenties. She was lovely and very elegantly dressed in a rose-colored gown. Carefully, Marta removed it from the frame and turned it over to find something scribbled on the back. It was smudged and illegible. This wasn’t surprising, as the old quill ink pens used ink that wasn’t permanent. Marta became more and more interested in this portrait, wanting to learn the facts about this young girl who was so beautiful. Who she was and what became of her were of utmost interest to Marta.
After several hours, she and Greg returned to the second floor sitting room. Greg agreed to allow her to search later for any details of this girl. For now, Marta wanted to hang this portrait in the spare bedroom. Greg found a nail and hanger in his office, and they chose a spot on the wall. It complemented the already enchanting room.
