by Ashley Ladd
Against her will, her gaze was drawn back to the couple making love, their sweat-slicked bodies gliding against each other in the age-old rhythm.
When Dax flung back his head and howled, the sound wound around her soul. She hated to admit it, but he was a beautiful man, toned and tanned and the epitome of her dreams.
When the couple clutched each other in ecstasy, when Dax made his final, powerful thrust into her, she almost came.
“Get me the hell out of here. Please,” she ground between her teeth, almost biting her tongue.
The ghost nodded, and they blinked from the room. However, instead of being returned to her apartment, she was whisked to another place It was one she well remembered and had known most of her childhood.
Perplexed, she rounded on the ghost. Her brows drawn, she gazed at him. “Why are we here? I don’t understand any of this. I’m not a bad person. I’m not like that Bill Murray character or Scrooge. I never did anything bad to anybody.”
The ghost emphatically tilted its head at her former best friend, Judy Grant. Judy had been like her sister until she’d stepped over the line too many times, brought cocaine into Tiffany’s car and almost got her arrested for possession. The same Judy who had just walked into the room crying.
Tiffany couldn’t stand to look at the old friend she’d missed so very much. She felt as if a million pine needles stabbed her heart, and she couldn’t stand to see Judy this way. Longing to drag the young woman into her arms, she yearned to provide comfort. With bated breath, she waited to find out why Judy was sobbing and how she fit into this scenario. Impatient, she turned to the ghost and tugged at his robes. “What’s wrong with her? Why do you want me to see this?”
The ghost jabbed his finger at Judy, and the volume seemed to magically increase as they floated closer.
Tiffany perked her ears, hoping to solve the mystery, cursing at herself for being so impotent and feeling guilty she had broken their friendship. She reached out to Judy, letting her fingers flutter in the air a hair’s breadth from her friend, knowing she couldn’t truly touch her through time and space, but oh, how she wished she could. It was as if a slice of her heart had been cut out and thrown under a car. She sucked in a ragged breath. She’d never be whole again and didn’t appreciate having her wound ripped wide.
She wasn’t surprised to see very little in the way of Christmas décor in Judy’s house. Not that Judy wasn’t Christian, but her family had been poor, so poor her mom always gave her underwear for her Christmas gift. A few frayed, hand-me-down decorations were pinned on the wall amongst Judy’s posters of near-naked hunks.
A smoky haze filled the room making Tiffany blink. When Judy took a drag on a marijuana cigarette, she realised it wasn’t the mists of time swirling around them. Judy was getting stoned out of her skull.
As usual—which was the reason Tiffany had broken off the friendship. When Judy had dragged cocaine out of her purse in Tiffany’s car, Tiffany had freaked out, imagining herself jailed and ruined for life.
Perspiration beaded on Tiffany’s brow even though snow was piled high on the ground outside the window and weighed down the pine branches scraping Judy’s window. Tormented more than she would have ever thought possible and wishing she was anywhere but here, she hugged herself and rocked on her heels. This was intolerable!
She was about to berate the ghost again, to plead with it to take her away when they shifted to another room where she was being confronted by Judy’s mother. They sat at the kitchen table over a couple mugs of steaming cocoa.
Her former self stared unseeingly into her drink as if it would provide magical answers. “Judy’s fine. She’s not doing anything wrong.”
Shame flooded her, and she hung her head. Maybe if she’d admitted the truth to Judy’s mom—that Judy was dabbling in drugs, acting weird and scaring her—things would have turned out differently for her friend if not their friendship. She’d been scared Judy would never talk to her again if she’d ratted her out. But the friendship had ended anyway, ironically, by her choice.
Ever since, she’d mourned the loss of her friend. She wondered if she’d done things differently, if they would still been friends.
But she couldn’t go back and fix it. She was looking back almost twenty years.
Judy’s mom took a sip of her chocolate then swiped the film of milk off her lip before gazing into Tiffany’s eyes. “Honestly? I want to help her. I’m very worried about her. I think you know more than you’re saying.”
Tiffany remembered silently crossing her heart, her fingers and toes beneath the table. She watched the muscles petrify on her younger self and heard her draw in a deep breath. “I’d tell you.”
Tiffany softly cursed herself under her breath and turned away. Tears attacked her eyes and an escapee clung to her lashes. Sniffling, she wiped her nose. She couldn’t take anymore. Refusing to watch another second, she closed her eyes.
Something prodded her, and surprised, her eyes flew open. She was in Judy’s bedroom again.
Judy’s mother bustled in, huffing and puffing. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes blazed, and she blew stray hair out of her eyes. “Ah ha! Caught ya.” She yanked the cigarette out of Judy’s hand, dropped it to the floor and crushed it underfoot.
Judy leapt off her bed and faced off against her mother. “I’m nineteen. I can do what I want. You have no legal say over me anymore.”
Her mother poked her finger in Judy’s chest, backing her against the bed until Judy fell backward across it. Towering over Judy, her mother shook her finger, and her entire body trembled. “As long as you live in my house, you abide by my law, Missy. Where’d you get the money for that, anyway?”
Judy pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “None of your fricking beeswax.”
“When you’re behind on your rent, it’s sure as hell my business!” She jerked her finger towards the front door. “Out with you. I’m tired of your sorry ass. You’re going nowhere fast, and you’re going to get all of us in trouble if you stay.”
“Fine!” Judy grabbed her purse, stuffed several pieces of clothing in it and stomped to the door. She twisted around and flung out, “I don’t have to take this. I’ll get my own place. Anything would be better than this dump!”
“Fine!” Judy’s mother didn’t budge.
Tiffany gasped, wanting to run after Judy and apologise. She turned to the ghost. “Where was I?”
The ghost pointed to a calendar and with its finger underlined the year. Tiffany blinked. It was two years later, two years after she’d walked away from her friend. By then, she’d been living in another state in the college dorms, consumed with thoughts of exams and boys. Mostly boys.
Again, the mists shrouded them, and when they lifted, she hovered above Judy wheeling down a hospital hall, honking at people from her wheelchair. Her legs were strapped to the chair. Puckered scars crossed her right cheek and bitterness smouldered in her eyes.
Tiffany’s heart stopped, and she clutched her throat. “Oh my God, did this happen because she was high?”
The ghost nodded, and a moment later, they were at the scene of an accident where Judy lay mangled in a wrecked car. Policemen swarmed the vehicle, searching for evidence as Judy was loaded onto a stretcher into a waiting ambulance. A policewoman crawled out of the car and tasted a white powdery substance from an open plastic bag. “It’s cocaine, all right. One guess, she’s high as a kite.”
The other officer nodded and screwed up his lips in disgust. “What a waste. If only someone had intervened.”
The words reverberated in Tiffany’s mind, and her throat constricted. She couldn’t breathe. She began to hyperventilate and sank to the ground. Pain slashed her from every angle, and she sobbed for her friend, for mercy on her own soul for not trying to save Judy.
Something touched her shoulder, almost like a hand, but when she looked, nothing was there except a glimmer of light. She looked up and saw the ghost staring down at her with pity.
The ghost frowned and thrust its finger at Judy.
Frustrated to hell and back, Tiffany rose to her feet and flexed her aching shoulders. “Why won’t you say anything? Can’t you talk? I’m tired of charades and guessing games. What are you? Some kind of paranormal psychologist, making me psychoanalyse myself? Well, I’m tired of it, and I’m just plain tired. Unless there’s something I can do now to make it better, please take me home. Are you getting your jollies out of tormenting me?”
So she was a bad person. Not on the level of a Charles Manson, perhaps, but pretty scuzzy nonetheless. How could she have let her best friend go down the wrong path, destroy her life? How could she have just deserted her? Her fingernails dug into her palms, drawing blood, but she didn’t care. She deserved it and more.
The ghost pursed its lips and shook its head. Then the mists returned, engulfing them, making her shiver.
In the split second between planes, Tiffany prayed the ghost would take her home, back to the present. Surely he couldn’t show her anymore troubling scenes, could he? She’d admitted she’d done wrong by Judy, but she hadn’t done anything else to be ashamed of or to cause remorse. She was still perplexed about why she’d been shown that scene with Dax.
Maybe because the ghost is a pervert?
Feeling sacrilegious, she shook her head and tried to get the image out of her brain. But to her dismay, it only grew stronger…as did her longing to see Dax again.
When the mists began to dissipate, she could only see the ghost glowing in the darkness, so she asked on a whisper, “What now? Are we doing the Scrooge thing? Do you pass me onto your buddy, the Present guy? Why me? I’m sure there are worthier souls than me.”
The ghost shook its head.
Oh, goody. They were back to guessing games.
She swallowed a moan. “I’m not clairvoyant.”
The lights went on as if a stage curtain was being lifted on a play. The spotlight centred on Dax again. This time he was several years older as evidenced by dark circles beneath his eyes and wrinkles fanning from the corners of his eyes, eyes flooded with a deep sorrow.
It was obviously Christmastime again. Red velvet ribbons adorned every other window lining a long hospital hallway, silver bells hung from the ceiling, and a miniature Christmas tree stood on top of a nurse’s station counter with festively wrapped gifts heaped beneath. Then they entered a dark room where all she could see was Dax in a circle of light. “Why is Dax here?” she whispered. Worry creased her forehead and a million scenarios, none of them good, slammed through her mind.
Although she couldn’t pinpoint what was troubling Dax, dread settled in Tiffany’s soul. Wanting to comfort him, she ventured closer. His hair was longer, but it was still full and thick, the perfect consistency to compel a woman to run her fingers through it. Except for a couple strands of grey, it retained its lush rich colour. His beard had been allowed to grow for a couple days so that the stubble was long and hard. She couldn’t tell yet if he meant to grow it out or if he’d been amiss in shaving.
His worn jeans gloved his lean, powerful thighs and long legs. His T-shirt stretched tightly across his broad shoulders that she had found so attractive.
Her breathing grew laboured, and she touched her brow. He was still sexy as hell.
Nothing happened for several moments except for Dax brooding, rubbing his forehead and staring inwardly. She was just about to ask the ghost if it really did think she was a mind reader, when the spotlight turned on a hospital bed beside Dax.
Squinting, she tried to see better. She closed the gap and was surprised to see a young boy, who looked so much like Dax it could only be his son. Tossing and turning fitfully in his sleep, the boy strained against an IV and several monitor wires sticking into him. With a wry smile, Dax leaned forward and smoothed the boy’s sweaty bangs away from his eyes. Leaning further forward, Dax deposited a kiss on the child’s forehead. “I’m sorry,” Dax whispered, pathos clipping his words.
She turned to the ghost and splayed wide her hands. “What’s going on? Is that Dax’s little boy? What’s wrong with him?”
Another person entered the room and stopped beside Dax. When the man lifted his face she recognised Dax’s older brother, Axel. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s not your fault.”
Dax angled his face out of the shadows and squinted his eyes at the other man. He rubbed his jaw and wrinkled his nose. “Oh, no? How so? I was driving the car.”
Needing to know the answer, Tiffany hung on their words. She wanted to drag the answer from the ghost, but convinced he would remain mute, she bit back a sigh and focused on the unfolding scene.
“It was an accident, pure and simple. The police cited the other driver.”
“If I’d let him stay with Beth, he wouldn’t have been with me.”
At mention of the boy’s mother, Dax’s wife, her heart fell. So he hadn’t been separated like he’d sworn? Or had they gotten back together and had this child? How many other children did the couple have? Everything he’d told her in the heat of passion had been a lie. What good did that do to find out now? Hadn’t she already suspected it all these years? She wasn’t a completely naïve moron, just a semi-naïve one.
God, but she’d been a fool. How could she have gotten involved with a married man? Not merely a married man, but a married man with children?
If she wasn’t the lowest soul on the planet, she didn’t know who was. Well, maybe Charles Manson. But she was a close second.
She whirled on the ghost, her fists clamped at her sides. Furious at herself, furious at Dax for not telling her the whole story, furious at the ghost for ramming this in her face, she seethed. “Okay, I get it. I’m a terrible person. I need to repent. I’ll go to church more. I’ll donate time to the homeless shelter.”
Still, the ghost didn’t whisk her away. Instead, it put his transparent hands on her shoulders and somehow turned her around, forcing her to watch more of the show.
Morbid curiosity gripped her. What more did the ghost want her to see? To hear?
She walked over to the child’s side and stared down at him. What a beautiful boy he was, about six or seven, maybe even eight. He didn’t deserve this, whatever it was. Her heart went out to him.
Against her will, her gaze was dragged back to Dax and Axel.
Axel shovelled his fingers through his long greying hair. “You broke it off with that girl during the divorce so you could get custody of Max. How many fathers would sacrifice their heart?”
She gasped. She couldn’t exhale. Did they mean her?
Desperate to hear more, she leaned over the bed.
“Yeah, but if I hadn’t, he’d be safe with Beth.” Dax pushed his chair back and massaged his neck. He looked even more wretched than she felt.
Axel snorted and fire danced in his eyes so like Dax’s. “You know that’s not true. She would’ve been a horrible mother. She was alcoholic and abusive. He wouldn’t have survived his first year with her. She wouldn’t have taken care of him. You know that.”
Tiffany swallowed hard. She hadn’t known any of that about Dax’s wife. Her heart went out to him. No wonder he’d been so unhappy at home that he was supposedly separated and getting a divorce.
“Do I? Maybe she’d have changed. Maybe I should’ve given her another chance for Max’s sake.”
“You know it wouldn’t have worked. Look at her now. She’s strung out and using her welfare money to buy drugs. What kind of life would he have had?”
“If I’d have stayed…”
“Bull! Don’t even think it. Neither of you deserved that kind of life, and you know it.”
“How could two such mismatched people have created this angel?” Disbelief rang in Dax’s voice.
“What I don’t understand is why you didn’t get back together w
ith that girl. What’s her name? Tilly? Tippy?”
“Tiffany,” Dax said morosely.
Tiffany sucked in her breath, her throat raspy. “Why not?” she whispered.
“Tiffany,” Axel softly repeated. “You’ve never gotten over her.”
“Don’t remind me. I couldn’t burden her with a kid, especially one I’d not told her about. It wasn’t fair to her.”
“You should have let her decide that,” Axel said and clucked his tongue as he shook his head. “Bad move, bro.”
Tiffany echoed Axel’s thoughts. “Why didn’t you let me decide, you big lug?”
She searched her heart. What would she have done? What would she have felt?
She’d probably have been hurt at first, felt insecure, perhaps. In the end, however, she was sure she’d have followed her heart and forgiven the only man she’d ever truly loved. She’d have loved that little boy as her own.
Tears choked her up again.
“Damn it! Why didn’t you trust me? Why’d you make us both so unhappy?” Perhaps if she’d been there with them, there wouldn’t have been an accident.
A woman doctor in a white coat entered the room and nodded to the two men. She stood beside Tiffany. “Max’s got a slight concussion and is a little banged up, but there’s no major damage.”
Dax buried his face in his hands, shaking. “Thank God,” he mumbled. He lifted his face, and gratitude glowed in his beautiful brown eyes. “Thank you, Doctor.”
The mists claimed Tiffany again, and before she was ready to leave, she was yanked away.
Her head spinning, her pulse hammering, Tiffany pushed her fingers against her temples. So many thoughts churned in her mind. So many emotions bombarded her. “Are we done yet?”
The ghost shook its head and stretched out its arm, pointing at something else.
Tiffany groaned. Would this night never end? At this rate, she’d sleep through Christmas. Maybe she wouldn’t awake until the new year.
Wondering what she would see, expecting either Dax or Judy to be the star, she followed the direction of the pointing finger. To her surprise, she spied her cousin, Terri.
