by Scott, D. D.
“Not just the shop this time. My favorite scarf. That scarf went to fifteen different countries with me when I was on tour. It’s very special to me.”
“Yeah, I know the one you’re talking about. Casey didn’t take it.”
Amanda crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t start with that ridiculous ghost stuff again.”
“Remember when that faucet started running by itself? And didn’t you tell me about the lights sometimes going on and off?”
“This is an old building.”
“That’s been renovated.”
Amanda locked her desk and turned to him. “I can’t go to dinner right now. I have to get over to UPS for a customer who needs their order by tomorrow.”
“I’ll drive you there.”
“I’m quite capable of getting there on my own.”
“I know that. I was thinking we could hit Founder’s on the way back.”
She let out a tired sigh. “Look, Russ, it’s been a long day. Tonight I just want to go home and veg out alone in front of the TV with a glass of wine.”
“In other words you’re cancelling our date.”
“Sort of.”
“Sort of bullshit.”
“Look, Russ, I told you from the beginning I didn’t want to get involved.”
He stepped toward her. “First you penalize a sweet innocent kid who’s already going through hell. Now you want to give me the boot because I had the nerve to come to her defense.”
“Why are you taking her side?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. And maybe I thought you knew me well enough now to believe me. Or at least try to.”
“I really don’t need this. I moved out here to have a simple, uncomplicated life. My plans were never to—”
“Is that all I am?” The pitch rose in his voice. “A complication messing up your well-laid plans?”
“I haven’t got time to debate this.” She turned away and tugged on her coat.
“So, I’m being dismissed.” Russ marched to the door, but when he reached it he spun around and spit out his words in a torrent of anger and hurt. “One of these days you’re going to find out being strong and independent doesn’t mean you don’t need anyone else. You might also learn there are certain things in this world we can’t explain or control. Yeah, like ghosts. And love.”
He pulled the door shut with bang.
##
Casey’s day had begun with a phone call from Amanda telling her she no longer had a job because she was a thief. Then she had an argument with her mother. Jenna had a cold and was ornery as a goat. Parker came home around six in the foulest mood she’d ever seen him in. The only thing Casey had felt good about was knowing she’d get to be with her dad for the whole day.
Except it turned out her dad didn’t have a whole day left.
At six thirty he went into a coma. An ambulance came, and they all followed it to the hospital in the snow that had started to fall. By the time they found him in the emergency room he was dead.
Gone forever. Daddy. Never coming back.
No matter how many doctors’ reports she’d read or hours she sat by his sick bed, nothing could have prepared Casey for this blow. It numbed her to the core. She couldn’t even cry. She paced the house, her room, and finally she ran down to the basement, turned the radio up full blast and began to dance.
Turning and jumping and kicking, dancing out her anger, her grief and her pain, she kept moving until tears streamed down her cheeks.
Afterward, she climbed on her dad’s tool bench and peered out the window at blurring white swirls of flakes dense as confetti.
And Casey could swear she saw unicorns leaping and dancing in the snow.
##
Amanda made it to the UPS store just in time for the last pick-up. The clerk said there might be delays since the snowstorm was turning into a blizzard and seemed to be coming on faster than predicted.
She drove slowly on her way back, feeling a small skid here and there. But it wasn’t the snow that had Amanda worried. The reality of her break-up with Russ was sinking in with an overwhelming heaviness. And the realization that she didn’t want to lose him.
But why did he take Casey’s side?
Because it’s the right thing to do. At least that’s what he said. Did he actually believe in the whole ghost thing? Was he that primitive?
Yes. And I like him that way. She smiled thinking about the way he made love to her.
Amanda kept an eye out for her next turn. Visibility had already become a major obstacle making it almost impossible to find the curb or see the intersections. Forging ahead at a crawl, the car’s headlights split the night’s darkness, a blur of white tracer lines blanketing her vision.
She reached her turn, but after going a mile or so down the country road, she began to think she’d made a mistake. She made a U-turn, headed back and came to a fork she didn’t remember. Of course not. From the other direction it wasn’t a fork at all. So, which road should she take now?
Making a guess, Amanda drove on, trying to check out the farmhouses she passed to see if anything looked familiar. But the world looked different than it had an hour ago. It had turned into a white cloud.
She slowed to a crawl. What looked like a road came up on her left. Should she take it? No. She kept on, but now it seemed like all she saw on either side of the road were dense woods. She turned off this road, hoping to get back toward a more populated area. That way she could maybe find a gas station and ask for directions. But this road just seemed to be going deeper in to the boonies.
A deer raced out in front of her. Amanda swerved, hit a big log on the side of the road and stalled out. As if things weren’t already frustrating, now her engine wouldn’t turn over. She inevitably flooded it trying again and again.
Amanda grabbed her embroidered satchel from the passenger seat and pulled out her cell. At first she thought the storm was the reason she got no reception. It certainly didn’t help, but then she saw the battery strength indicator. No bars remaining.
Dammit. She’d meant to charge it, but somehow forgot. She checked the glove compartment and the storage space between the seats for her charger. Where was it? Not under the seat. She climbed into the back. Nowhere.
Meanwhile, in the last five minutes, the snowfall had completely covered her windshield. She could see out the side window somewhat, but the inside of the car was beginning to feel like a cave. And getting colder. How long could she be here before someone found her?
Out here? Pretty long.
Suddenly claustrophobic, Amanda decided to go out and look for a house where she could ask for help. Through the gray, snowy mist she saw a light in the distance. Had to be a farmhouse. Maybe even a gas station or something. She climbed over a low ridge and began a trek through some kind of field, heading toward the distant light.
The snowfall thickened, wind whipping like mad, icy flecks stinging her face. She kept on, her limbs numb and stiff with the cold. At least she’d worn forties style trousers today instead of one of her vintage dresses. Pulling a tissue from her pocket with frozen fingers, she wiped her running nose. When Amanda looked up again, she couldn’t see the light of the farmhouse. Had someone turned it out?
She walked in the same direction, or what she guessed was the same direction. But she wasn’t sure anymore.
She stopped. Maybe it was this way.
After a few heavy, trudging steps, piled snow dragging at her feet and legs, Amanda stopped again. Now she couldn’t even tell where the road was. Or which way was east or west. All she saw was darkness and blinding snow. If only she had let Russ drive her to the UPS store. She’d be warm and safe in his arms right this moment.
Thinking of Russ, Amanda realized why she was so angry that he’d taken Casey’s side against her. Jealousy. She knew it was silly and irrational, but then so was love. And that was the real issue. She’d fallen in love with him.
And now she’d probably die of hypothermi
a in this stupid snow and never get a chance to tell him.
The blizzard pelted her face and piled snow into drifts that made every step an exhausting challenge. Amanda felt her body growing heavy and numb. With no idea which way to go, panic and despair overwhelmed her, and she finally collapsed on her knees in tears.
She sat up quickly at the sight of someone walking toward her.
Amanda yelled, “Over here!”
It was an old woman in a dress that reached nearly to her ankles. And no coat or hat. She was staring at Amanda and carried something in her arms. As she got closer Amanda saw it was a white, fluffy puppy.
Fluffy? As in Mrs. Ramhorst?
Was this a hallucination? Could hypothermia cause hallucinations? Or maybe Amanda was seeing this woman because she was about to die the same way Mrs. Ramhorst had. Didn’t Russ say they found her body frozen in the snow?
But wait. If this was really Mrs. Ramhorst . . . Amanda was seeing a ghost.
Just as she thought that, the woman curved her arm as if asking Amanda to follow.
She did.
And she kept following her.
Finally she saw a light again. Two lights. A car! No, a truck.
Amanda ran forward as fast as she could on stiff legs in the knee-deep snow. She waved her arms and shouted, “Hello! Wait! Stop!”
The truck slowed. Amanda kept running. Someone got out of the passenger side.
“Russ!”
He raced toward Amanda and bundled her in his arms. As he kissed her cheeks, her lips, her hair, he said, “I went to your place. Wanted to talk. But you didn’t show. And didn’t answer your cell.”
“Oh, Russ, I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot. I was wrong. About Casey. And us.”
“Don’t worry. I’m just thankful you’re safe. Let’s get you warmed up.” He walked her to a truck with a snowplow on the front.
Russ climbed in and pulled Amanda onto his lap. She recognized Parker Richardson at the wheel.
He nodded to her and said, “Russ called me, worried you were stuck out here somewhere.”
“Thanks, Parker. And would you please tell Casey I want her to come back and work for me? Tell her I’m sorry. And that I was wrong.”
As they drove off, Russ told her about Marty Richardson’s death. A fate that she might have met as well, had it not been for the ghost of old Mrs. Ramhorst.
Warm in his arms, her face tucked into his neck, she decided it couldn’t wait, and she whispered, “I love you, Russ.”
He dipped his head near to hers. “I love you, too. Even if you are the most stubborn woman I ever met.”
“Russ, I have to tell you something. I saw Mrs. Ramhorst. Her ghost. She had Fluffy in her arms. I never would’ve found you and Parker without her. She’s the one who led me to you.”
“Is that who gave you back your blue scarf?”
“What?” Amanda looked down, and there it was, tied around her neck. Her precious blue silk scarf.
Russ laughed and held her close.
About the Author
Alicia Street writes in romance, mystery and paranormal genres. One of her Saylor Oz RomCom Mysteries written in collaboration with her husband Roy won a Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense. Her solo work tends to be more serious, with Roy’s influence creating the comic aspects of their joint novels.
Alicia spent years as a dancer, choreographer and teacher. She is a compulsive reader of every genre and loves watching old black-and-white movies and inventing new recipes for soups.
website - http://aliciastreet-roystreet.com
facebook - http://www.facebook.com/AliciaRoyStreet?sk=wall
twitter - http://twitter.com/AliciaStreet1
Nothing Sacred Comedy’s Guide to The Holidays
By
Lacy Maran & Kevin Michael
*Note: The following is an excerpt from
Nothing Sacred Comedy Presents: Dawn Of The Brain Dead
Christmas
Or
It’s the thought that counts. You did keep that receipt though, right?
All Mom Wants For Christmas Is Sleep After Being Woken Up At Five AM To Open Presents
Cincinnati, OH--After an unscheduled five AM wake up call by her two kids to open presents, all single Mother Dana Elster wants for Christmas is sleep. “Wake me up tomorrow,” Elster proclaims, delirious. “Or better yet, New Years Eve.” Elster, operating on just two hours of sleep after frantically wrapping l8ast minute presents is not likely to be catching z’s anytime soon. “My parents are coming over in two hours, then I have to drive the kids over to the Father’s, but maybe after I do dishes I’ll be able to sneak in a quick nap,” adds Elster while putting finishing touches on the Christmas feast. “Oh crap. I forgot to put in the mashed potatoes.”
Gift Of Socks Solidifies Aunts Place In Christmas Hall Of Shame
Omaha, NE--A record setting career of mediocre gift-giving reached its nadir this year when nephew Bobby Stoddard received socks for his fifth straight Christmas. “Aunt Lenore is so lame,” teenager Stoddard remarked. “Her gifts always suck.” Lenore, who before socks gave out underwear every year, also is infamous for being that house on the block giving out apple’s at Halloween. But, she stands behind her presents. “Gadgets and fads come and go,” Lenore declares, “but everyone needs a good clean pair of socks and underwear.” Stoddard was too busy dying of embarrassment to comment further.
Girl Furious After Catching Dad Pilfering Santa’s Milk And Cookies
St. Louis, MO--Six-year-old Abigail Munson is still fuming after catching her Father snacking on the milk and cookies she had carefully laid out for Santa. “I can’t believe Daddy did that,” Abigail seethes. “He almost got me kicked off the nice list.” The grizzly incident occurred at 2:15 am. As Abigail exited the bathroom, she heard a rustle, and, assuming it was Santa, rushed into the living room only to find her dummy Dad ruining everything. “Santa flew here all the way from the North Pole. He needed those cookies,” Abigail added. “Besides, what did my Dad ever do to deserve them--other than use a potty mouth putting up the Christmas lights?”
Boy Unhappy With Mere $500 Worth Of Gifts This Year
Dallas, TX--Twelve year old Steve Joelson’s Christmas fell dangerously short of expectations when his unrivaled greed yielded a mere $500 worth of gifts this year. “This is ridiculous. I didn’t even get half the stuff on my list,” Joelson complained, looking at his huge haul with disdain. “Where’s the laptop? Where’s the new mp3 player? Where’s the big screen TV?” But Joelson soon came up with a plan to make up for lost loot. “My birthday’s in four months, I’ll just double up my wish list then,” Joelson schemes. “No way I let my parents low ball me again.”
‘Putting Up These F-ing Lights’ Kills Mans Holiday Spirit
Portland, OR--Although Robert Wallace’s holiday season started with cheer to spare, it will not end that way thanks to the thankless chore of putting up ‘these f-ing lights.’ “Son of a--” Wallace rants “these Mother f-ers are harder to untangle than my garden hose.” The laborious annual irritation is only made worse by the numerous strands with inoperable bulbs. “Why the hell do I do this f-ing crap every year?” Wallace laments as he tries to uncurl another strand of bulbs. “Especially when no one appreciates it.” Wallace’s family meanwhile attempts to ignore his profanity-laced tirades from ladder top, opting instead to admire the neighbors dazzling display of decorations. “F. me,” Wallace rants, “I hate these f-ing lights.”
Trip To Church Scrapped For Last Minute Shopping Trip
Tuscon, AZ--The Wilkins once a year jaunt to Church to honor Christ’s birthday was scrapped in favor of a last minute shopping trip last night. “I’ve bought all the big gifts, there’s just a few little knick knacks I need,” Bob Wilkins declares. Teenage son Paul’s list is less complete. “Dude, I haven’t even started shopping yet. Hopefully Dad will let me borrow a few bucks.” Paul’s Mother has a more thrifty approach. “I’m on the hunt for some real b
argains, otherwise those stockings are going to be pretty lean this year.” Stacey Wilkins is eyeing something else entirely. “Jimmy Bennings is working the late shift tonight. He is like so hot. Where’s the mistletoe when you need it?” The title of the sermon the Wilkins missed in favor of shopping: The Commercialization Of Christmas.
Mistletoe Kiss Gives Geek False Illusion Of Woman’s Interest
Battle Creek, MI--The kiss that gamer geek Glenn Gibbons will cherish for the rest of his life was not the product of burgeoning attraction, like he’d so desperately hoped, but in fact the result of well placed mistletoe. “That was the best kiss of my life,” Gibbons boasts. “Not like I have much of a frame of reference, but there was definitely something there.” Colleen Daniels, recipient of the kiss was not so enthusiastic. “I was on my way to the bathroom and all of a sudden, some weird guys tongue is in my mouth,” Daniels recalls with horror. “I had to brush my teeth for ten minutes straight after that.” But Gibbons would not be so easily deterred. “I invited her to this New Years party. That way we can get our second kiss at midnight,” Gibbons boasts. But Daniels could not disagree more. “I’d rather kiss my dog. That’ll teach me to never walk near mistletoe again.”
Girl Baffled That Older Brother Received No Coal In His Stocking
Pensacola, FL--Maureen Patterson’s faith in traditional holiday lore took a massive hit yesterday when her total meanie older brother didn’t receive even a mere lump of coal in his stocking. “This is so unfair,” eight-year-old Maureen declared. “Billy’s a total poopie head.” The poopiehead in question, known for his Charley horses and Indian burns earned his infamy on noogies, yet has managed to escape the naughty list yet another year. “Didn’t Santa get my letter? I sent it to the North Pole months ago,” Maureen adds, still stunned. “Uh oh. Here comes Billy with a wet willy.”
