The Ghost of Christmas Present

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The Ghost of Christmas Present Page 4

by Jenny Lykins


  Alane slid another set of CD's into the player, then tossed a couple more logs onto the fire. She settled back on the stool in front of her canvas and tried to paint while she waited for him to come.

  It didn't take long.

  She watched him appear by the fireplace, the very sight of him sending exquisite ripples of heat racing through her blood. When he smiled she felt as if a hundred hummingbirds fluttered in her stomach.

  He turned in a circle and scanned the room with a grin. She'd scattered a dozen or so candles over every surface, and they cast their soft yellow glow into the evening gloom, perfuming the air with scents of pine, cinnamon and vanilla.

  "I like what you've done to the place," he said in his usual teasing tone.

  "I tried to stay busy while you were gone."

  He smiled and nodded but didn't say what he'd been doing or where he'd been.

  "I thought you might need a little time alone with Duncan." He looked around. "Where's he lurking, anyway."

  Alane laughed and the knots in her stomach loosened a little.

  "You're a good one to talk. And David went back to Roanoke."

  Jared flopped into the recliner and muttered under his breath, "A good place for him."

  "How do you do that?" Alane asked.

  He looked up at her and arched a brow.

  "How do I do what?"

  "That. How do you walk through walls but manage to sit and lean on the furniture and counter and things?" She figured that was a pretty safe question to ask. It shouldn't stir up painful memories of a dead wife.

  He looked at himself sitting in the recliner, then shrugged.

  "Basically, I will it. It's a thing left over from my mortal days, I suppose. It doesn't take any energy. In fact, I don't even think about it."

  "So, if you can lean on things, can you pick things up?"

  Jared looked away from her and she had the distinct feeling she'd hit on a topic that bothered him.

  "Yes and no," he said when he looked back at her. Whatever had flashed in his eyes moments earlier was gone now. "I have to really focus my energy to actually touch something. If I use all my energy, I'll cease to exist on this plain. And since I'm not sure of which direction I'm headed in the hereafter, I plan to hang around here as long as I can." His devilish grin set the hummingbirds to flapping again.

  "Does it take any energy to be touched?" Alane walked over to him and dropped to her knees beside the chair.

  A muscle in his jaw flexed before he answered.

  "I can't be touched."

  "No?" she said quietly. Then she raised her hand and slowly traced the air along his jaw to his chin. All her fingers encountered was that same elusive warmth. "Can you feel this?" Her words came out barely above a whisper.

  He closed his eyes, as if in pain, and swallowed hard. When he looked back at her it was as if his gaze looked into the deepest part of her soul. He curled his hand into a fist and placed it in the center of his chest.

  "I feel it here."

  Tears burned behind Alane's eyes and she blinked them away before they could spill over onto her cheeks.

  In the silence between them the CD player whirred as it changed discs. Jared drew in a deep breath and let it out.

  "Let's change the subject, shall we? For instance," he nodded toward a speaker from which Colin Ray's latest song drifted. "I wouldn't have guessed you to be a country western fan."

  Alane worked to shift from the tenderness overwhelming her at his admission, to his statement about her taste in music.

  "I...uh...I'm a recent convert."

  "So what converted you?"

  What converted her? Would he understand if she told him?

  "Well, I'm not into the 'crying in my beer' music, but some of these songs are so...I don't know...visual. They're truly poetic. The love songs are so plain-spoken they can speak to everyone. And some of the other songs just tell it like it is. Like this one, for instance."

  Jared listened for a few minutes to the upbeat music and lyrics.

  "So do you like the country western dances?"

  She got to her feet and picked up her paintbrushes.

  "How do you know about country western dances?"

  He pointed out the television like a game show model displaying the latest prize.

  "Meet my main source of information for the last quarter century. I had to watch whatever the people renting the place watched." He leaned toward her conspiratorially. "Some of those people had very odd tastes."

  She chuckled at the thought of who all had passed through this cabin over the years, and how horrified they'd be to know they'd had a witness.

  “Did you ever show yourself to anyone else?”

  A look of tenderness flashed in his eyes before he replaced it with a wide-eyed look of innocence.

  “Not here at the cabin. You’re the first. Couldn’t resist you. So, what about the dances? Do you know how to do them?"

  She smiled at his efforts to stay off the previous topic.

  "I like the line dances." She tossed her paintbrushes back down. "There's this new one out that I can't quite keep up with. It sort of goes..." She did a little step-together, step-together, kick, kick, tush push. "There's a couple extra steps but I can't seem to get them all in and keep up with the music."

  "Hey, I know that one." Jared jumped to his feet and waited for the beat. "There was a couple here last month who watched nothing but that country video station. I thought I'd go mad for want of hearing the news." He looked up at her and winked. "It's amazing what idle hands will do when there's not even a devil's workshop to be had. Besides, you don't need a partner to line dance. Now watch."

  He did her steps and then added the others as smoothly as a country western Fred Astaire.

  "See how I'm doing this?" he asked as he did a ninety degree turn and repeated the steps.

  She stared, a little speechless at watching a ghost line dance in the middle of the living room floor. And dance flawlessly at that.

  "If you do sort of a triple step here, it all fits in. C'mon. You try."

  Alane chewed on her lower lip as she moved to stand beside him, watching his feet and waiting for the music.

  She followed his steps fairly easily but screwed up the triple step.

  "Come on. You can do it," he told her, never missing a beat. "It's like this. One, two, one, two, onetwothree."

  "Hey! I think I've got it." She managed to squeeze in all the steps, but not with Jared's finesse.

  They continued to dance, side-by-side, with Jared coaching her along the way. She watched her feet and chewed on her lip until the steps felt right and she could keep up with him. Just as she started to feel comfortable, the song ended.

  "Dance with me through the next one to make sure I've got it down pat, okay?"

  They both waited with one ear cocked toward a speaker, their bodies poised for the music to start.

  Instead of a fast song, though, the strains of a sultry, moving love song swirled around the room.

  They looked at each other and smiled, then the mirth left Jared's eyes and he peered into her soul again as the song spoke of a love that could never be.

  "Will you dance with me?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

  Hot tingles ripped through Alane and her heart pounded harder at his simple, knee-weakening request.

  He raised his hands as if he could actually hold her for the dance.

  Hesitantly, her heart climbing in her chest, she stepped up to him, mingled her hand with his, and curved her arm around his vaporous waist.

  She felt the warmth again, tingling in her fingers and arm where she touched him, and the melting sensation traveled through her body like it was part of her blood.

  As they swayed, as she burned from within, she gazed into Jared's eyes, Eyes that reflected need, pain. Love. An aching throb started in her chest, growing with each passing moment as she returned his look, yearning to feel his arms around her, to be able to press her head against
his chest. A knot of misery formed in her throat at the thought that she could never feel the warmth of his lips on hers. Never taste the sweetness of his kiss.

  How she wished she could touch him, for his sake, not for hers. To wrap her arms around his neck, to caress his cheek, to trace her fingers across his lips. His thick, dark hair, falling in shiny layers begged for her fingers to sift through it, to smooth it back at his temples.

  How had this happened? How could she find herself drawn to someone who’d been dead for two centuries? Misery mingled with want, denial warred with acceptance as her head spun and she wondered if there could possibly be a more hopeless situation.

  She held his gaze as the song continued, so perfectly meant for them that the words brought tears to her eyes. She squeezed her eyes closed, to ward off more tears and to escape from the tortured look on Jared's face. The knot grew in her throat and she struggled to swallow around it. A hot, wrenching coil spun in her chest.

  As the song drew to an end she opened her eyes and looked up at Jared.

  He slowly dipped his head, and for a moment a heavenly warmth passed across her lips.

  "God help me, Alane," he moaned as the warmth traveled along her neck, "but I've fallen in love with you."

  Joy and agony exploded in her at his words, staggering her and nearly bringing her to her knees.

  "God help us both, then," she whispered, "God help us both."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jared drew in his breath and tried to calm the raging need to touch her.

  He had to touch her. Just once more. Once, while she looked at him with those dark, soulful eyes, so giving, so loving.

  Giving in to his need, he focused his energy, then brought his hands up to gently cradle her face. She gasped at his touch, then her eyes lit with a joy that came from the center of her soul. She nuzzled his hands as he slowly found the softness of her mouth with his.

  He absorbed the feel of her, the essence that was Alane, and his mind swam at all she meant to him. He indulged in the drug of her kiss, the wonder at never having felt such euphoria. Then as his strength drained from him, weakening him, reminding him of who and what he was, an empty, gnawing ache curled in the pit of his stomach at what he would never have.

  Before the encroaching blackness could engulf him, he released her and stumbled to the couch.

  "Jared!" Alane ran to his side and fell to her knees. "Jared, what's wrong? I can barely see you!" She grabbed at him with frustrated cries, but her hands touched nothing but air. "This isn't funny! Stop it!"

  He raised his head and looked at her, the pain in her eyes tearing at his heart.

  "I'll...I'll be all right," he struggled to say. "I just...need rest."

  Alane didn't try to stop the tears. For one brief, exquisite moment, when he'd touched her, when his lips set off fireworks in her blood, she'd thought she owned the world. Then reality came crashing back, more painful than before.

  He leaned back against the couch and dragged his legs onto the cushions. She reached to help him, then couldn't quiet the frustrated sob at her vain attempts.

  He raised a weak, barely visible hand to her.

  "Don't...worry."

  She watched as he seemed to lose consciousness.

  "Jared!" she yelled, then screamed his name again when he didn't answer.

  "Okay, stay calm," she told herself. She sank back onto her heels and stared at the face already precious to her heart.

  Just a hint of his form was visible on the couch. Just a hint of his existence.

  Is that how much he'd given up to touch her? Is that all that was left of him on this earth?

  She knew now what he'd meant about using his energy. About ceasing to exist. The thought terrified her and she swore she'd forbid him to touch her like that ever again. Nothing was worth the price of his existence. She refused to be the one he would give up his existence for.

  She knelt by his side, cursing her helplessness. Her mind raced for ways to help him, but all she could think of were mortal comforts. She couldn't get him a pillow or drape a blanket over him. She couldn't even hold his hand.

  The fire died in the grate and the candles guttered in their holders, and still she stayed by his side. Sometime during the night she woke to find her head cradled in her arms, resting on the couch cushions. Every joint in her body ached and she finally struggled to her feet and dropped into the recliner. Moonlight fell across his body on the couch, but he looked no stronger than he had hours earlier.

  She sat there and stared at him until her eyes burned. She willed him to get better. And as she sat vigil she faced the truth that she'd fallen in love with a dead man. After knowing Jared, every other man she'd ever known, including David, especially David, paled in comparison. Jared would forever be the standard to which she measured other men, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that none would ever come close.

  ********

  Sometime before noon his eyes finally opened and he stared heavenward for a moment before turning his gaze straight to her, as if he'd known she was there all along.

  He just looked at her, with such a love and sadness in his eyes it brought burning tears to her own.

  "Thank you for staying with me," he said quietly, his voice stronger than before. "I knew you were here. I don't sleep, you know, but I'd lost the strength to speak."

  Alane didn't trust her voice so she just smiled and shook her head to tell him it was nothing. When she'd swallowed back the tears, she knelt by his side, aching to be able to take his hand in hers.

  "You're never to do something like that again, do you understand?"

  "Do what?" he asked with a weak, innocent grin.

  She couldn't even punch him in the arm.

  "Touch me, smart-alec. You're never to take a chance like that again."

  He lifted his hand and drew it along her cheek.

  "It was worth it."

  "No, it wasn't. You nearly faded completely away! I was scared to death!"

  He dropped his hand to mingle with hers and all traces of a smile left his face.

  "If I had awakened in Hell this morning, it still would have been worth it. I kissed an angel last night, and I learned the joy of what it is to love and to be loved. If I cease to exist this minute, I will go a happy man."

  "And you'll leave me to mourn you for the rest of my life. Promise me you won't take that chance again." When he didn't answer she nearly screamed for wanting to shake him. "Promise me!"

  When he still didn't answer, she got to her feet and glared down at him, hands on her hips. She had to know he'd be safe.

  "Promise, or I'll leave right now and never come back. I won't stay here and jeopardize your existence."

  He struggled to sit up, then swung his feet to the floor and sighed.

  "I promise never to touch you again, unless you ask. How's that?"

  A hollow victory, she thought. But at least it would keep him safe. She nodded.

  "Now. Is there anything I can do to help you get your strength back?"

  "A cup of coffee and a twenty ounce steak would do wonders."

  She picked up a throw pillow and hurled it at his head. He actually tried to dodge it, but it sailed through his chest and bounced off the back of the couch.

  "I'm serious, Casper. I'm new at this. What do sick ghosts do to get well?"

  He laughed weakly and shook his head.

  "Nothing. I should be back to normal by this evening. See?" He displayed his arms, more visible now, like a little boy in show and tell. "I'm getting better already."

  She eyed him, not quite certain he was telling her the truth, but what else could she do?

  "Okay. You just stay there and get your strength back and I'm going to get some breakfast. Then I've got a surprise for you."

  His eyes lit up and he sat up straighter.

  "A surprise? I love surprises! What is it?"

  She turned and gave him a long-suffering look.

  "I'm not telling. And if you do
n't behave yourself, I'm not going to." Good grief, her mother's voice had just come out of her mouth. She needed to go dunk her head in ice water. “And don’t you dare try reading my mind!”

  *******

  Jared paced in front of the window, through the wall and onto the front porch. Back and forth. Back and forth. Every time a flash of headlights swept across the snow-covered road below, he zapped himself to the edge of his land and waited to see if the car would turn up their road.

  Where the devil was she? She'd taken the Jeep hours ago, with a mysterious smile and a light in her eyes, refusing to offer even a hint to her activities.

  He hated surprises.

  Finally! Twin beams of light sweeping onto their road. He whisked himself to his boundary, and the moment her Jeep crossed his land he melted into the car.

  "What took you so long?"

  Alane jerked with a gasp, and the car went fishtailing across the road. Once she steered her way out of the problem, she stopped, fell back against the seat and held her heart.

  "Criminy! Would you stop that?"

  He barely even heard her as he scanned the interior of the car, taking in nothing but a grocery bag and art supplies.

  "Sorry. What's the surprise? What took you so long?"

  She stared at him, her straight face given away by the smile in her eyes.

  "The surprise is a great big, loud, cow bell to wear around your neck. And have you ever tried to make good time on mountain roads after a blizzard?"

  She put the car in gear and continued up the road to the driveway. Jared stared at her as she drove.

  She wasn't serious about a cow bell, was she?

  Before he could ponder that question she climbed out of the car and grabbed the bags from the backseat. He followed her into the cabin while she dropped them on a table, then he followed her back out again.

  "You aren't serious about the cow bell, are you? Because surely you realize I can't..."

  He forgot what he was saying as she went to the back of the car and yanked on a rope dangling from the top.

 

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