by Kenya Wright
The figure flew close to me and spread his arms out. His sleeve lengthened again. Another opening appeared.
“What are you doing now?” I flapped my arms as if I could fly away from him. “I don’t like where you take me. Stay away!”
“Come.” He blurred to me and wrapped darkness around us.
“No!” I went blind again. Those same disheartening sensations overflowed in me, clogging my speech and eating me away. I reached my hands out and only grasped cold darkness.
When it stopped, all I could do was feel relief.
Panting, I opened my eyes and realized I was now in a small graveyard covered in snow. When I looked back, I spotted the same mansion from earlier, but now it was daylight. I figured it must’ve been Old Me’s private graveyard. There wasn’t much sun on this cold morning. Gray mist twisted into haunting shapes and then wisped around tombstones.
I rose from the ground and looked at the gray stone markers. One held my father’s name.
What? I buried him on my land? Why?
Right next to him was his wife and on the right, I spotted Timothy’s name. My heart ached.
I must’ve brought their bodies to my land and kept them here.
I studied the graves. The stonework had faded, telling me that Old Me had buried them years ago. Vines crawled over the side of each tombstone.
I scanned the tragic depressing space. “I want to leave.”
Behind me, the dark ghost gestured. “Come.”
“This is fucking sad.” Hot tears burned my eyes. I blinked them back. “I don’t like this lesson. I don’t want to be here.”
And then I spotted the worst possible scene I could have imagined. My knees threatened to buckle under me.
An older version of Saint stood in front of a tombstone with a little boy. A large bird perched on top of the tombstone and watched them with contempt. Saint had aged very well. He still had a huge frame and muscle. A few wrinkles decorated his cheeks, but not many. Gray touched his temples.
A little boy was on his right, holding his hand. He looked like Saint did when we were kids. The boy looked at him. “Grandpa, Mom said that you loved this woman.”
“I did.” Saint gazed at the tombstone. “She was an. . .amazing woman.”
The little boy looked at him. “Do you love Grandma too?”
Saint gave him a sad smile. “I do.”
“How is that possible? Mommy only loves Daddy.”
Saint sighed. “Ivan, love is a complicated concept—one I hope you end up better understanding than your old grandpa.”
The boy blinked and turned back to the tombstone. “Her name was Ivy.”
Saint nodded.
“Just like Mommy.”
“I always thought it was a beautiful name. Thankfully, your grandmother agreed, although it took some convincing.”
The little boy glanced over his shoulder. “Mommy said this is your house now?”
Saint didn’t turn around. “Not really, Ivan. We’re going to give it to Miss Ivy’s charity foundation. They will sell it and help mothers and children that need it more.”
“But I want to visit you at your new big castle.”
Saint chuckled and led them away. “Sorry, buddy. You’ll have to settle for the farmhouse. I thought you liked working in the garden with Grandma and helping me feed the chickens.”
“I do, but I like castles too, Grandpa.”
They walked off.
I stared at them.
The dark ghost appeared in front of me. “Look.”
I ignored him and gazed at Saint, wishing that I could go off with them. I wanted to see the farmhouse, the garden, and chickens. I wanted to know how Holly and Nikolas were doing too.
The ghost pointed to something behind me. “L-o-o-k.”
“I don’t want to look. I know what’s there. It’s my tombstone.”
The ghost floated closer to me.
“Okay. Okay.” I held my hands up and turned around.
There, my tombstone stood before me—cold and dark. Only my name was carved into it. No angels or flowers. No special quote or statement of love. Just my name on cold stone. Fresh flowers lay in front of it. Saint must’ve put them there. I doubted anyone else would’ve come to visit once he left. For some reason, that bothered me.
I swallowed. “That’s a damn lie. This isn’t my future. This isn’t. . .”
Other graves rose from the ground.
“What?” I looked at the names. “Why do all of these say, Ivy?”
Over and over, more rose. On each one was scribbled Ivy.
“Stop it!” I stumbled back. “I get it. I’m going to die. We’re all going to die. You don’t have to keep showing me over and over.”
Still, other tombstones with my name rose.
“Stop it!” I fell to the ground in front of him and grabbed at that creepy cloak. My fingers froze. Strange sensations slithered up my skin, but I didn’t let go of the fabric. “Stop it! Stop it! Take me back! Please! I got it!”
He gazed down and didn’t move.
My voice went low. Still gripping his robe, I stared at him. “Please, I understand.”
Tears blurred my view. “Please.”
“Have you learned?”
My bottom lip quivered. “Y-yes.”
And then darkness swallowed me.
Chapter 20
All I Want for Christmas is You
My first clue of consciousness was huge, warm arms surrounding me. Next came Saint’s deep voice. “Please, wake up, Ivy.”
And I knew it wasn’t a dream. Nothing felt as good as Saint’s hold. He was all hard muscles and warmth.
I’m back? Dear God! I’m back.
In my mind, the nightmare evaporated, yet left a vile taste on my tongue.
Without opening my eyes, I hung on to those blissful seconds, breathing in his scent and thanking God for a second chance at saving my heart—my life. Eyes still closed, I snuggled further into him and smiled.
Holly whispered, “She’s up.”
When I opened my eyes, several faces greeted me. Holly, Nikolas, their parents, and in the center stood my father. I was back in Saint’s villa.
I blinked and gazed at him. “Dad. . .”
Fear covered his face.
My chest hurt. The gravestones from earlier flashed in my head. That dark fate terrified me. I wouldn’t let that be my future.
Okay. Okay. I learned my lesson. I. . .I have to push forward.
“Dad.” Swallowing, I whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
“Baby girl, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He rushed to get to my side. A nervous laugh left his mouth. “Don’t you apologize for anything. Are you. . .are you okay?”
“How could I spend all these years pushing you away? Maybe I needed you. Perhaps I would have been better.” Shaking, I scanned the room. “Then I wouldn’t have buried you on my property without any closure.”
Dad looked around as if hoping someone could explain my statement.
Holly frowned. “Saint, let’s call the doctor back. She’s delirious.”
Moving blankets away, I sat up. “I’m not. I’m just—”
“You should lie down.” Saint let go of me. He’d been sitting behind me. Concern covered his face. “How are you feeling, Ivy?”
“Perfect.” I gazed up at him. “Who changed me into pajamas?”
“I did.” Saint ran his fingers through his hair. “After you ran out, I grabbed my coat and hurried after you. It took me some time, but I found you on the ground, sleeping in the snow.”
“I shouldn’t have left you like that. I shouldn’t have done a lot of things.” I shook my head and turned to Holly. “And it’s your wedding night. Go to your suite and forget about this. I’m fine. Start making little nieces and nephews for me. I’m going to be the best aunt ever. You’ll never get rid of me. I love you.”
Holly widened her eyes. “How do you feel? How’s your heart and—”
“I’
m 100% okay, Holly.” I gave her a wicked grin. “Go enjoy your wedding night. You’re going to have a bunch of kids. Five of them.”
Nikolas winked at me. “This is why Ivy will always be my favorite friend of yours. You heard her, Holly. Let’s go.”
Holly frowned. “Ivy, don’t run outside anymore.”
I saluted. “Aye Aye, Captain.”
She didn’t look pleased as she headed off.
I called back. “I love you, Holly!”
She raised her eyebrows. “Saint, you really should have the doctor check on her one more time.”
Saint studied me.
“I’m fine. Things are just going to be different from now on.” I waved goodbye to them. “I’m not leaving any of you. I’m right here.”
Nikolas dragged Holly away.
The door closed.
My father placed his hands in his pocket. “Well. . .I’ll be off to my room.”
“No.” I sighed. “You don’t have to go just yet.”
Dad exchanged glances with Saint as if unsure how to proceed.
“Long ago. . .I hated you.” My voice was low. “And I know that in the end, it was an illogical hate, but I couldn’t stop it.”
Dad inched closer to me. “Baby girl, I hated myself. Still do. Anytime I think of Gloria, I want to beat myself up. I. . .I ruined our marriage. I had no heart back then. No soul. I’ll never forgive myself.”
I grabbed the edge of the blanket and twisted it in my fingers. “I shouldn’t have hated you. I shouldn’t have run away every time you tried to talk to me.”
“It’s okay.” Dad reached his hand out to me, stopped, and brought it back. “I’m just happy that you’re talking to me now.”
I twisted the blanket some more. “I should have talked to you long ago.”
“You needed time. It was a traumatic experience. Many. . .wouldn’t have survived. You did.”
I looked at Saint. “I had a lot of help. . .a lot of love around me. People who wouldn’t let me descend into madness.”
Saint watched me but said nothing.
I directed my attention back to Dad. “I don’t know how this will go, but we should talk. We should heal from this. Mom is doing just fine. She has all types of lovers and spiritual adventures. It’s time for us to live our lives too.”
“O-kay. I’ll take that.” Dad nodded. “I’ll take anything that you’re giving. Just let me know. And. . .I don’t want to push you too much more. I just. . .I want to be in your life.”
My eyes watered, but I wouldn’t let any tears come. “Good. You will be. And I also want to meet my brother.”
“That would make his year. He looks up to you. Ever since he was little, he taped pictures of your designs all over his walls as if you were a rock star. He even draws his own little designs in his sketch pads.”
“I can’t wait to see those designs and him.”
Dad parted his lips.
My chest ached, but I couldn’t say why. It wasn’t pain. It was like something inside of me had been sore and required care and attention.
Dad cleared his throat. “Alright. I’m going to let you two talk. Get some rest. Feel better. Maybe we can. . .have breakfast together or lunch. Whatever you feel like. We don’t even have to eat. I could just come in the afternoon or the evening.”
Fear clenched my throat, but I pushed through it. “Breakfast.”
A brightened expression spread across his face. “Okay. Breakfast it is. I’ll be there. It’ll be on me. I’ll figure out a nice spot. I heard they serve reindeer around here.”
I grinned. “They do.”
“Maybe we can check that out.”
I nodded.
He backed up. “All right then. Breakfast.”
I whispered, “Yes.”
He rubbed at his eyes. “I love you, Baby girl. And I’m so sorry. I’m different. I’m a better man.”
Pressure built in my chest. “I love you too.”
Dad stared back at me in a daze. Silence thickened the air. I looked away. The sound of the door closing came next.
Okay. That didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would.
I swallowed. For some reason that felt like the hardest thing I’d ever done. It was like I had gone bungee jumping or something. There was this sense of thick tension that had been released as if I’d leaped off the cliff, descended into darkness, and the rope showed me that I would always survive, no matter how many times I bounced up and down in the air.
Relief soared through me. And deep down inside I knew that something had me. It held on strong, making sure that I wouldn’t break in the fall—that I wouldn’t perish.
Saint placed his hand over mine. “How are you really?”
I looked his way.
His gaze searched mine. In the depths of those blue eyes, I witnessed it all. Pain. Love. Fear. And even hope.
For a moment, I yearned to fall into my own desires, to close my eyes and enjoy the feel of his lips on mine. But we had to talk. I had to prove to him that there would be no more battle when it came to us.
I whispered, “I’m different.”
“I see.”
“I thought I was protecting myself. Now I know I was just pushing myself faster and faster toward death.”
“Not death, Ivy.”
“Was I ever really living?”
“You were.”
“But I could live more.”
“You can, and I want to be right next to you when you do.”
I turned my hand around and squeezed his. “I don’t ever want you out of my life. I love you so much. You moved on. . . you married another woman and had kids with her and. . .then moved into a farmhouse with chickens and a garden and a grandson named Ivan, it would kill me. I saw it.”
He looked around. “What?”
“Don’t marry anyone else. I’m not running from you.”
“Ivy, there will never be anyone else but you. I’ve said that to you since the first time I kissed you. Never.”
“I will live at that farmhouse with you.”
“I actually see myself more in the mountains than on a farm.”
“Maybe the farm is near the mountains.”
“I do like the name Ivan for a boy.”
“Me too. But that will be our grandson.”
He frowned. “Holly is probably right. We should see the doctor.”
“Do you want this new attitude fixed?”
“No.”
“Then let the doctor enjoy his Christmas Eve.”
He sighed. “Why did I find you on the ground in the snow? What happened?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“More ghosts?”
I nodded.
“Should we call your psychologist?”
“No. Those ghosts have done more than she ever could.”
He let out a long breath. “I’m worried.”
“Don’t be. This was the last ghost. He scared the shit out of me enough that I will never need any more lessons.”
“Lessons?”
“He showed me the future if I remained on my track of pushing everyone away. And it was a dark, lonely, cold one. I had shut everyone out and refused to talk to all of you.”
“Holly and I would never let you shut us out completely.”
“Maybe or maybe not. We’ll never have to test that out. I want you in my life. In fact, I need you by my side. My life. My sanity. My heart depends on all of this.”
“What are you saying, Ivy?”
I tried to get up.
He stopped me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting on one knee.”
Shocked, he raised his voice. “For what?”
I swallowed. “Will you marry me, Saint?”
“Ivy, you think I’m the type of man that would allow you to propose to me?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does.” He pierced me with a heated gaze. “But don’t worry about that. I’ve bee
n waiting to put a ring on your finger for an exceptionally long time.”
“I was just saying let’s go for it now.”
“We will.”
“I’m not scared anymore.”
“I see.”
“Shoot. We can wake up the officiant right now, put on a coat, and hop in the chapel. Let’s do it.”
He laughed. “We will not cheat Holly and my mother out of annoying us for our wedding. Do you know that my mother has a Pinterest account with our names on it? It’s all about weddings and baby showers.”
“Wow.”
He shook his head at me. “You really have changed.”
“I have.”
“You’re talking marriage.”
“And babies.”
He licked his lips. “Oh yeah?”
“Lots of them.”
He raised his eyebrows. “We would have to move in together to get that started. I would need to dedicate all my time to stuffing my cock into you.”
I swallowed. “I’m up for that challenge.”
“We have a long list to accomplish before the New Year.”
I nodded. “We do.”
“Move to New York, buy a ring—”
“A big ring.”
“Of course.” He chuckled. “Holly will help.”
“Good. She knows what I love.”
“And then there’s apartment hunting.”
“I already have a great condo.”
“I’m not stepping in that place where all your colorful men roamed about.”
“Colorful men?”
“Your rainbow fuckboys.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay. New condo.”
“Make sure your rainbow fuckboys know that their services are no longer needed.”
“Roger that.” I smirked. “The same goes for the flirtatious stylist.”
“Of course. You’ve been dressing me for years anyway. You might as well be brought on to the show.”
I breathed through small bits of fear rising in me. “I agree.”
“You agree to it all?”
“I do. No more fear. I’m just going to walk to the edge of the cliff and jump. I don’t care what happens. I could crash and die. It doesn’t matter.”
“You’ll never crash with me, Ivy. I’ll always be there to hold and keep you safe.”
“I’m sorry for leaving you tonight.”
