Ghosts of Christmas (Steamy Bwwm Holiday Romance)

by Kenya Wright

  By the middle of the night, I climbed out of bed and decided to take a warm bath to soothe my thoughts. Fucking Saint had exhilarated me. I wanted more. I had enough energy for several more rounds of his cock thrusting and pumping. But he wouldn’t have it, due to his new policy of stipulations.

  I have to go to sleep. A hot bath will get me there.

  I started the water, poured liquid soap into the tub, and assessed it. There were buttons on the side that had an image of a chair with hot or cold written. That was when I noticed the white backrest at the end of the tub. I assumed the buttons would control the temperature of the backrest. Then, I spotted jets on the inside of the tub to make bubbles.

  This is what I need. A nice relaxing bath.

  As the tub filled, I relaxed and took off my clothes. Thick trails of steam rose out of the bubbling water. Even with the chill in the air, I knew the bath would feel like heaven.

  Sometimes a bath was all I needed to figure out the craziest things. I’d come up with major design collections from sitting in the tub. I’d even decided on my college from soaking in the water.

  Let’s hope this helps with Saint. I have to figure out a way to compromise with him. I can’t. . .lose him. . .not completely.

  I dipped my toes into the water. The sudden sensation of heat prickled at my toe. I stepped all the way in. The water engulfed my whole leg. A sigh of pleasure left me. I climbed all the way in and sank within the warm liquid. Layers of shimmering bubbles floated on the surface. Steam rose around me.

  “Yes.” I leaned against the backrest, let out a long breath, and closed my eyes. “God, I needed this.”

  There was a soothing nature to water. I’d read an article that water could relax us in so many ways. Seeing moving water triggered a response in humans’ brains that induced a flood of neurochemicals—ones that increased blood flow to the brain and heart. The sound of the waves crashing could even alter the brain’s wave patterns and put a person in a meditative state. And just being near water supposedly reduced anxiety, increased happiness, and lowered the heart rate. Perhaps water had that effect on humans because we needed it for our survival. The liquid made up seventy percent of our body. Due to that, there was a deep biological connection between our brains and water.

  Exactly what I needed.

  All tension left my shoulders.

  I relaxed in the water and let my negative emotions float off with the bubbles.

  I must have drifted off to sleep in the tub because an odd sound filled the air—one that couldn’t be real. Music played. It sounded like a music box tune uncoiling on copper springs. I opened my eyes and the whole bathroom was dark.

  Wait! What happened to the light?

  A haunting green glow flickered along the doorway to the bedroom. And that music continued. It sounded like violins. And then children’s laughter rode the notes. Then the children spoke. I couldn’t make out any of the words. It was the mumblings of hushed notes.

  What the hell is going on?

  I rose from the bath and tried to grab the towel next to me. My hand went through it. I screamed and jumped back.

  “No.” I shook my head and looked down at my body. I wore those same white pajamas. “Not again. This can’t be happening again.”

  I looked back to the tub. My physical body was still in the water. My eyes were cold. A peaceful expression covered my face. Bubbles surrounded me like a white blanket.

  “No. No. No.” I backed up. “This is not happening again. It’s not fucking happening again!”

  A sweet male voice sounded from my bedroom. “Ivy, come.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “It’s time for your lesson.”

  “Another lesson. That can’t be right.” I paced back and forth in the bathroom, refusing to go to where the voice was. “Another dream. Mom said in the first dream that I would get three ghosts. And it’s. . .happening. How? I figured this was just all bad dreams, but—”

  “Ivy.”

  I froze.

  These aren’t dreams. These aren’t dreams.

  “Ivy.”

  Shaking, I stepped forward, noticing the odd glow of my feet. I held my hands in front of me. This time, they held a copper glow.

  I entered my room. Lit candles covered the entire floor. Small, shadowed children danced along the wall, pirouetting, leaping, and twirling.

  I widened my eyes and gaped at a huge man in front of me.

  “There we go.” With outstretched arms, he stood in the center of the candles, wearing a bright green robe. White fur outlined the sleeves and some of the front. A black belt tied it all together. A crown of flowers and evergreen branches covered his head. He had black dreadlocks. Some of them were bunched up and braided on the side.

  “You’re. . .” I pointed at him. “You’re the second ghost.”

  His voice was light and melodic. “Interesting. I was told that you were too hard-headed to teach, but you’re quite accepting.”

  “Okay.” I held my hands to the side, trying to understand this. “Those last two dreams were real?”

  “What is real?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “We’re not doing that. I want to know if those moments were real or not because I figured they were crazy dreams. During this time of the year, I get crazy—”

  “What is a dream?”

  I glared at him. “Please.”

  He took out white gloves and put them on. “Define a dream to me.”

  “It is when. . .it really didn’t happen.”

  “Dreams really do happen.”

  I sighed. “But I mean, it is only happening in my head.”

  “Everything only happens in your head.”

  “Not in the waking moments.”

  “The waking moments?” He laughed. The jolly sound rose in the room. “What is waking and what is dreaming? That is even a question I can’t answer.”

  “Who could?”

  “Whoever answers those questions.”

  “You’re not giving me any answers.”

  “You ask questions that assume answers within them. How can I answer those?”

  “Okay.” I held my hands in the air. “My mother came to me while I was sleeping on a plane. We walked in the clouds and she told me ghosts were coming to teach me about love.”

  The man nodded. “I am the second one.”

  “So. . .this is really happening. This is real.”

  “What is real?”

  “Never mind.” I paced in my bedroom. “That wasn’t a question. It was a statement. So, wait a minute. I saw my mother?”

  “You did.”

  “That was actually her with the rope and bags attached to it?”

  “It was.”

  Stunned, I stared at him. “But. . .so. . .”

  He smiled. “Are we done?”

  “My mother is walking around in. . .this spirit world. . .with a rope around her neck?”

  “She doesn’t truly walk. She more floats.”

  “She didn’t go to. . .heaven or—”

  “Don’t mention the other.” His brown face tinted red. “There’s no need to invite unnecessary beings our way.”

  “Then, will I see my grandfather and grandmother too?”

  “Perhaps, they are not in what you would call this spirit world. Maybe, they’ve moved on to where they belong.”

  “Which is where?”

  “Other lives. Other realms. Other moments in this living spiritual body that we call the universe.”

  I didn’t know if that answered my question or further confused me. “My mother is in limbo?”

  “I’ve heard her use that term.”

  “Then, you’re in limbo?”

  “If that is what you think of this realm.”

  “Why are you there?”

  He widened his eyes and appeared perplexed. “I don’t know. I’ll be here until I’m not.”

  “And. . .” I tilted my head to get a better look at him. “Hold up. Mom said h
er past lovers would help. So. . .you two had a thing.”

  “As much as a thing would be here.”

  “Why did you change my room?” I walked over to the bed. Roses lay there.

  “I like things to look nice.”

  “Do I have to wear these pajamas? Can you change them?”

  He shook his head. “Those pajamas are a part of you. The thing you carry just like those bags your mother drags around.”

  I frowned at them.

  “But I can add some flair.” He pointed.

  A red robe covered me.

  “Thank you. I don’t like looking at them. They remind me of. . .a rough memory.”

  “Then, one day you’ll have to take them off.” He beckoned me forward. “We should begin.”

  I swallowed. “Our lesson?”

  “Yes.”

  “And if I understand the lesson. . .then I won’t need to see the other ghost?”

  “That is my understanding.” He held out his hand.

  “Okay.” I walked over and reached for it.

  As soon as he touched my finger, the world blurred and spun around me. We fell and I couldn’t see what we were descending into. I screamed. His hands gripped me harder. Those fingers were much more powerful than they suggested. My throat went hoarse. I tightened my hold on his hand and turned my gaze to him, trying to speak. He was calm and relaxed. That made me stop screaming.

  Stay calm. Stay calm.

  Holding on closer to him, I scanned this tunneling energy around us as we continued to fall. I couldn’t make anything out but constantly spinning light swirling around me as if I were at the center of a cyclone. As we dropped, the funnel around us flickered. Wind whistled past my ears. Scared out of my mind, I looked down. A dark expanse spread out below me. It seemed like it would take forever, although everything happened so fast.

  And then the falling stopped. My feet sank to a vibrating ground. A wisp of brightness pierced the darkness. The light flickered in the center of my view and in a blink more lights illuminated everything around me as if someone flipped on a switch.

  A large forest stood before me, but the trees were different. Instead of leaves, clocks dangled from the branches. Thousands upon thousands of clocks—big and small. A constant clicking filled the air as if it were counting each second that passed.

  We entered the forest.

  “This. . .” I scanned the whole place. “This isn’t like the place with the doors.”

  “We are different.”

  “You mean you’re different from last night’s ghost?”

  “I am.”

  “Then. . .this place. This. . .forest. It doesn’t exist for others?”

  “Only if I bring them here.”

  I did my best to understand. “These places are each of your creations?”

  “My spirit’s creation.”

  “Why are there clocks hanging from the leaves?”

  His skin brightened. “Time changes like leaves. And the universe is the tree, always sprouting new time. New buds rise. Then it goes green. And then it browns, dies, and falls away.”

  “So. . .we’re the leaves?”

  “That’s one way to look at it.”

  I shook my head. “What happens to the leaves when they die?”

  “More important. What happens to the tree?”

  I studied all the dangling clocks. “The tree remains.”

  “That is correct.”

  We walked forward on a brightened path.

  The light brightened the closer we got. So close, I realized an intricate webbing of stars and red vines wrapped around most of the trees’ trunks. I followed those plump vines down to where they emerged from the ground. Dry clock leaves covered the forest floor.

  The more we went further, the more the trees darkened. The trunks curved inward on both sides of the path. The hovering branches and clock leaves arched overhead, stretching out to cover the path.

  We left the forest and continued forward. Abandoned buildings surrounded us. At least I assumed no one lived there. I couldn’t hear or see anybody else. And the whole time we walked, I stepped over the clock leaves. They cracked under my spirit’s weight.

  Two huge trees appeared ahead of us. Smaller buildings flanked them. We stopped in front of both.

  He pointed at the trees. “Pick one.”

  “Which one is the right one?”

  “The one you choose.”

  I pointed at the tree on the left.

  “Not bad.” His voice rose. “Open!”

  Crackling sounded. A rip tore into the tree. It broke away and then burst into evaporating bits.

  Shocked, stepped back.

  And then something even stranger happened. A golden light cut into this reality like a rip in a piece of fabric. And as that tear continued to lengthen, it opened, showing a vastly different reality before us.

  Stairs appeared as if to guide us forward.

  He gestured to the opening. “Step through.”

  “Where does it go?”

  “Where it needs to.”

  Without asking any more questions, I climbed the stairs and stepped into the new reality. It was somebody’s living room.

  “Hold up.” I studied the place. “This is. . .Holly’s house. Why are we here?”

  The ghost got next to me. “This is your lesson.”

  Nikolas dragged in two big suitcases and placed them next to the couch. “Honey, we have to get to the airport. Surely you’ve packed enough clothes.”

  Holly yelled out from the bedroom. “I’m coming.”

  Nikolas took in all of the suitcases by the couch. Besides the two that he dragged in, there were five more. He mumbled to himself. “We’re only staying for days, not weeks.”

  Holly pulled another suitcase into the living room. “What did you say?”

  “I said we’re only going to be there for. . .” Nikolas turned and looked at the suitcase she brought in. “What is that for?”

  “This one is for my shoes.”

  Nikolas pointed at the ones by the couch. “Hold up. Then what’s in these bags.”

  “Makeup, gowns, outfits, and—”

  “Holly, this is outrageous. I only have one small bag. Meanwhile, you would think that you’re moving to Finland.”

  “It’s my wedding.”

  “Our wedding.”

  She shrugged. “Then bring more clothes if that would make you feel better.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying. . .never mind. I give up.”

  “Thank you, sweetie.” Holly walked over and kissed his cheek. “Happy wife. Happy life.”

  “I hate that my father declared that. You’ve truly run with it.”

  “But it’s the truth.” She batted her lashes. “Besides, I’m so happy that I’m thinking of registering us for the Mile-high club when we get on the plane.”

  Nikolas’s annoyed expression shifted to excitement. “Where would we have sex?”

  “Well. . .I believe it would be easier for me to suck you off. All I have to do is pretend to be laying on your lap.”

  Nikolas grinned. “That’s a deal. I’ll start loading these bags in the car. You should have said that first before you told me to carry the bags. Husbands need a bit of motivation, too.”

  “I’m learning.”

  He pulled her in for a hug. “I love you, Holly.”

  “I love you.” She kissed him and then leaned away. “And thanks for not being mad anymore.”

  I raised my brows and stepped closer to them.

  “Jamaica would have been better.” Nikolas frowned. “But I think it’s nice that you’re trying to show Ivy the magic of Christmas.”

  Shocked, I held out my hands. “What? We’re in cold ass Finland for me?”

  Holly wrapped her arms around his neck. “Once Ivy sees the snow castle and participates in the wedding, she’ll understand that life is full of magic and one can only imagine and it will come.”

  I
frowned. “Girl, I would have rather gone to Jamaica, sipped some cocktails, and lounged in a bikini. The magic of Christmas?”

  I turned to the ghost. “Can you believe her?”

  He grinned.

  I turned back to my ridiculous friends. They were interlocked in a passionate kiss. Then, the house faded around us, wisping away like smoke. The odd forest of clocks returned.

  I looked to my left and realized the ghost had moved on. I hurried forward and followed him. “That happened this year.”

  “It did.”

  “That’s odd. The other ghost showed me stuff from long ago.”

  “Perhaps the tree believed this year’s moments will be a big enough lesson.”

  Another house showed. I recognized it immediately, stopped, and didn’t move forward. “What is that doing here?”

  “When you picked, the forest learned. This is your next lesson.”

  “That’s my. . .childhood home. I haven’t been there in many years. And I don’t plan on going inside now.”

  “You have no choice. I could make you. It would hurt.”

  Nervous, I walked forward. “Fine.”

  Chapter 14

  Feliz Navidad

  I walked into my childhood home, but it no longer looked the same. All of the furniture was different. Somewhere off in the kitchen, Feliz Navidad played.

  “Who lives here now?” I stepped in further and looked around. When I made it to my old living room, I stopped and stared.

  Next to a Christmas tree, a teenaged boy sat in a wheelchair. He had green eyes, a caramel complexion, and black curly hair. Some of the curls hung around his ears. Completely focused, he drew in a sketchbook on his lap. I figured he was black and possibly Hispanic, but I wouldn’t bet all my money on it.

  I walked over and glanced at the drawing. On the page, a man smiled back at me and wore an impeccable suit.

  “Why are we here?” I glanced at the ghost. “There’s a new family in this place. What would it have to do with me?”

  The boy hummed Feliz Navidad.

  Then I looked at the mantle on the fireplace. Three framed pictures of me were on it. One was from when I was a little girl. Another showed me at my college graduation. And the final one was a news clipping of me at my first collection.