Ghosts of Romances Past

by Laura Briggs

  And his Dad made it clear which he preferred. “You’ll be glad you listened to me someday, son” his father urged, as he packed his bags for a school he no longer cared about attending. “Dreams are worth following, and you’ve worked so hard for this. You shouldn’t let this opportunity slip away without at least giving it a chance.”

  Of course, it wasn’t all bad. The New York Studio Art School boasted some of the best instructors in the country, as well as internships with advertising firms and noted publications. The campus was gorgeous, the lectures informative, and the students friendly. Jamie soared to the top of his class within a month, and at times, he even managed to forget the monumental disappointment he’d experienced only weeks before.

  And then the first letter came.

  Tucked among a week’s worth of assorted bills and advertisements, Jamie nearly missed it as he flipped through the stack on his way to the cafeteria. A credit card offer, fast food coupons, car dealership ads…he stopped dead in the middle of the side walk as he recognized the same handwriting he’d seen scrawled in the corner of Alice’s artwork.

  Jamie breathed a panicky prayer, not even sure a moment later what he’d asked for. Courage, no doubt, since his heart was making fast treks up his throat. Hands shaking, he ripped open the envelope and unfolded a piece of stationary crammed with Alice’s handwriting.

  Jamie,

  I can’t believe it’s been two months since we met at the Georgia art school. Remember how you practically scared me to death by offering to carry my suitcase?”

  A smile tugged the corner of his mouth, despite the fear surging through him. Determined to find out the worst, he scanned the next paragraph.

  Well, you probably wonder why I’m writing after all this time. And no, it’s not just to bore you with lots of reminisces. It’s actually because I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us. You may not believe this, but I’m really sorry for the way things turned out. And I really miss hanging out with you every day.

  Yeah right. But he shouldn’t be so cynical. Drawing a deep breath, he took in the next part.

  “I’ve been praying a lot about this,” her letter continued in a jerky fashion, “and I know it’s my fault things ended so badly. But I never, never meant to hurt you. I’m really glad we met and truly believe we were meant to share those weeks together at the school.

  His heart sank as the final awkward lines drifted by.

  I know you may not forgive me right away, and I can’t blame you for that. But I hope you’ll consider being friends again. Whenever you’re ready, of course.

  It’s beautiful here at the New Brunswick campus, and I have tons of homework, more than I can ever get done. Everyone is so competitive, and there are lots of good painters, but so far none as talented as you. Please write back if you get a chance. I’d like to know how you are.

  Your friend,

  Alice

  Other students rushed past him on their way to dorm rooms or the cafeteria, most of them laughing and horsing around, relieved to be done with the week’s classes. But the cheerful noises faded to a hum as Jamie stared at the note in his hand, a dull ache filling his throat as he ran his fingers across the girlish handwriting.

  So this was it. A pity gesture, a standard “let’s be friends” invitation. Well, forget it. He didn’t need sympathy, and friendship was no substitute for the love he still carried not-so-deep inside. He crumpled the note and tossed it in the nearest trash receptacle.

  And that was it, as far as he was concerned. Life went on as usual, except that he avoided picking up his mail for a few weeks. Then, one Saturday afternoon, he was busy working on the secret canvas—the one he’d started the summer he met Alice—and as he raised his brush to add a touch of red, the phone rang from the desk beside the bunk beds. His roommate, a sculpting student named Vince, snapped it up with a curt ‘hello,’ then informed Jamie it was for him.

  “Who is it?” Jamie leaned closer to his canvas, squinting at the texture. Something was off, a little too blurry or maybe…

  “It’s Alice Headley.”

  He froze mid stroke, his brush leaving a watery trail across the canvas. “Who?” he murmured, head spinning. What could she want this time? A dozen possibilities raced through his mind, but one stood at the forefront: she was engaged to someone else and wanted to say they couldn’t be friends after all.

  His roommate’s bored voice broke through this train of fantasies. “So are you here or what?”

  “I’m…” Jamie paused and made an effort to clear his incredibly dry throat. “I’m busy,” he finished, as Vince rolled his eyes and made the necessary excuse. Strains of Alice’s voice reached his ears from the receiver. Did he imagine the disappointed edge in her tone?

  Coward, he told himself, hunching over his canvas. A real man would accept her apology and get it over with. Sure, they’d had a spark, but he didn’t have what it took to make her happy. No way could he compete with the magic and romance of world travel and beautiful New Brunswick.

  For a moment, he pictured her strolling through botanical gardens; painting sunsets amidst jagged sea cliffs; touring fine art museums in the city. Accompanying her on these expeditions would be one of many admirers she was bound to attract. Handsome, cultured guy, not geeks with a cheese ball sense of humor.

  Who was I kidding, anyway? He gazed at the snapshot he kept tucked in the corner of his easel. Taken in a photo booth last summer, it showed Alice at her best and happiest. Fiery red hair, deep green eyes, a warm, open smile. Too good to be true.

  Two more letters arrived over a span of two months. He threw both away unopened, guilt twisting inside, along with a mixture of burning curiosity and shame. After all, there was nothing to wonder about. She felt sorry for him. End of story.

  When several more weeks passed and nothing more came, he took it as sign of resignation. Good, he told himself, as if feigning indifference could make it seem real.

  The final step in the closure process came when he put a slash through the secret canvas. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away, but he didn’t like the constant reminder of their summer together. So he wrapped it in brown paper and shoved it in the back of his closet, along with the memories it always seemed to spark.

  ****

  Thanks to the restoration shop in downtown Charleston, that streak was no longer on the canvas. The afternoon sun bathed Jamie’s small living room area.

  He glanced from the canvas to the clock, his fingers fiddling with the buttons on his blazer. At one-thirty, Rick would be waiting at Café au Lait with the Nursery Time contracts. One for him and one for Alice, should she care to sign it.

  Now all he had to do was drop by her apartment and invite Alice to meet him at Café au Lait, making it clear this time that he wasn’t inviting her on a date—no matter how much he wanted it to seem that way.

  Ghosts Of Romances Past

  18

  “Do you see anything?”

  Alice twisted a strand of hair tight around her finger as she waited for the answer. The exam room seemed cold despite her sweater; or perhaps it was all her imagination. After all, her senses had been running more than a little wild lately.

  Doctor Gorman held the scan against the light and studied it intently. “You sound a little worried, Alice.”

  She stared at the blue lines against the black background, wondering just what a massive head injury looked like. Surely something that serious would glow like a neon beacon.

  “Should I be?” she asked. “Before, you mentioned something about brain swelling. It’s not a blood clot, is it?” She added this last part with a note of panic, remembering a serious medical story she stumbled across in her previous night of research.

  “You have nothing to worry about. It’s fine.” He snapped off the backlight, causing the scan to vanish.

  Alice let out a long breath. “Nothing?” she repeated. “Are you sure about that? No swelling, no cracked skull...”

&nb
sp; “I mean nothing, Alice.” He pulled the scan from the screen. “There was a little internal swelling initially from the fall, but it’s gone now. Trust me, if it had applied serious pressure to your brain, we would’ve hospitalized you instead of sending you home.”

  She slid from the table, feeling as if a cage door opened and let her go. At least now she didn’t need to fear her symptoms were permanent, which brought her to the second reason for keeping this appointment.

  “Um, Doctor Gorman,” she began, hesitating for a moment. “Could the swelling cause me to see something...well, unusual. You know, things that aren’t there?” She tried to sound casual as she posed the question.

  He scribbled something in her file as he answered. “You mean, light spots or distorted vision?” he asked. “Or something more like an imaginary figure?”

  “Oh, either one,” Alice answered carelessly. “Or maybe both.” She laughed as if she was joking, but couldn’t help wrapping her fingers tight around the strap of her bag.

  “Hmmm.” He tapped his pen on the examining table. “Blurred vision would be a fairly normal side effect. And as for the imaginary part, well, people have different reactions to pain. I’ve seen migraine headaches cause hallucinations, both auditory and visual.”

  Her heart lifted. Here was the chance to put it all behind her and move on with her life. With the swelling gone down, there were no more hallucinations to fear, no more random phantoms haunting her present-day existence.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I definitely needed to hear that today.” She relaxed her hold on the strap, ready to forge a new path in her future.

  “Enjoy your clean bill of health,” her doctor responded, opening the door. “And don’t hesitate to call us if anything else comes up.”

  “I won’t,” Alice called, as she escaped the exam room with a lighter heart, feeling free for the first time in forty-eight hours.

  ****

  The strokes of her brush brought color to the banks of the river, a spray of wildflowers drifting along the edges. Alice hummed to herself as she painted, long red curls pulled back by a silk scarf in bright shades of magenta and yellow.

  All was well again. She had perfect assurance that she was free at last of her ghosts. She swept across the canvas with a bold stroke of green for the mossy stones along the water’s shallow edge. With expertise, she daubed the edges with the bristles of a dry brush.

  “You really do have an eye for color.” Jamie’s voice drifted through her front door, which she’d propped open to reduce the smell of the paint fumes. “I love that park view,” he added. “It’s my favorite spot to go and sketch, or just think sometimes.”

  She turned towards him and flashed a bright smile. “Hello there, former therapy consultant.”

  “Former? So it’s all worked out?” He came beside her, hands jammed deep in his pockets. “No more memories stalking your consciousness?”

  “Nope. According to Dr. Gorman, it was all the work of my head bump. Which is no longer swollen, by the way.”

  He grinned, and then tenderly brushed the small bruise on her face, his touch warm and unexpected. “Looks like you’re all better, Ali-Cat.”

  What was wrong with her? Why did she tremble like that? Confused, she turned back to the canvas, adding another shade of green to the embankment. She felt her face burning where he’d touched it a moment before.

  “I guess this means you’ve got your problems figured out,” he said, leveling a gaze in her direction. “You know, the important decisions.”

  Keeping her eyes on the canvas, she nodded. “I hope so. Because it requires some clear thinking. It’s kind of life-changing, actually.”

  Would he be hurt when she told him the truth? After their heart-to-heart in the car, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she was getting serious about relationships. But it might be painful to learn she’d kept him in the dark on something this big. Especially when he realized how it must inevitably affect their own friendship.

  “I’ve got something to tell you too. A surprise.” He twisted his arm around to study his wrist watch. “Any chance you can be at Café au Lait around one-thirty?”

  “Why?” She lowered her paintbrush mid-stroke and looked him full in the face. Something in his voice triggered alarm bells in her head. As if she might regret whatever news he carried. “What kind of surprise?” she asked, keeping her voice casual, despite the flutter in her chest.

  “Can’t tell, remember?” He sent her a wink. “Let’s just say it involves both our futures. So be there if you can. And on time.”

  He slipped back through the open door, leaving her to ponder the cryptic hint. One more secret to crowd her already too full heart. How did things get so complicated, Father? These past two days have been so confusing, so muddled. If you’re giving me a sign, then I haven’t grasped it yet.

  ****

  Jamie whistled an upbeat tune as he took the apartment’s three flights of stairs at a gallop. It had taken some major restraint to keep from telling Alice about the Nursery Time Project. But he didn’t want to brag before he had the contracts in hand. If anything, the world of freelance assignments was annoyingly subject to change.

  As he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with a tall man in a stylish business suit. Warren.

  “Slow down there,” the advertising executive offered with a luminous smile. “Is Alice at home? I need to return some things she left at the sandwich shop yesterday.” He held up a compact mirror and bottle of pain pills—more signs of Alice’s distracted week.

  “Yeah, she’s there,” Jamie said, forcing a friendliness he didn’t feel. “She’s painting.”

  “Great.” Warren’s face lit up with approval. “I mean, I know she has to make a living, but those illustrations are just so far beneath her talent level. No offense,” he added, with an apologetic grin.

  Too late for that. But he managed a shrug and half-hearted smile for Alice’s sake. “Hey, no problem. Each to his own, right?”

  “Right.”

  The usual awkwardness happened whenever they were forced to communicate for more than a minute at a time. It was broken by Warren, who nodded towards the stairs. “Well, I better get these back to her. See you around, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Jamie turned and pushed through the door, his good mood a little dampened by an encounter with the luckiest guy he knew.

  ****

  When the knock sounded, Alice thought Jamie must have returned for more cloak and dagger stuff. So she probably looked a little funny, when she flung it wide open to find Warren.

  “I’m just making a quick delivery,” he promised, raising his hand to reveal her vintage compact and a medicine bottle. “You left these at lunch yesterday. The waitress brought them over while I was paying.”

  “I didn’t even notice,” she said, tucking the items inside her smock. “It must have happened when I got my cell phone out. Thank you for bringing them.”

  “It was on my way. I’m meeting Brewster for a business lunch in twenty minutes. How was your doctor’s appointment, by the way?”

  “Very enlightening.” She began to clean up her morning’s work, sweeping chalk and pencils into a tray. “Apparently, all my clumsy behavior and forgetfulness may be gone, along with the swelling.”

  “Good to hear.” He leaned against the desk, his eyes wandering to the landscape. “Ah…that’s very nice. It’s good to see you branching out. Of course, a park isn’t exactly museum quality. But it’s a start.”

  “I find it very relaxing.” She dropped a handful of paint-covered brushes into a basin of rinse water, inadvertently showering Warren’s business jacket with multi-colored droplets. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Grabbing a paint free rag, she attempted to soak up the stain.

  “I guess the tumble didn’t cure your impulsiveness, did it?” Warren’s voice held a chuckle, his familiar patient look falling into place. “But it’s worth it to see you more like your old self.” Leaning down, he planted a kiss on h
er curls.

  Why did I have to fumble again? It seems I save all my worst moments for Warren. She sighed, turning the rag over to reveal a large, discolored smear.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Warren said, stroking her head. “I’ve got an extra jacket at the office. So I’ll see you tonight then, right?”

  “Right,” she said, her heart jumping a little.

  “And you’ll have an answer for me?” He glanced at her still bare left hand, an expectant look on his face.

  “Of course.” She smiled as he gave her a peck on the cheek, her eyes staying on him ‘til he vanished through the door.

  Alone again and restless, she wondered towards the kitchen. She should eat something and try to calm her nerves. Not having visited the store in a week or so, her pantry offered few temptations.

  She picked up a bread tie and began playing with it, twisting it around her ring finger. Glancing down, she half-expected to find a real ring in its place. Only it wasn’t Warren’s sparkling diamond she envisioned, but rather a square green stone in a silver inset. More like a costume ring from a contest prize, than a symbol of eternal love.

  Another ghost from the past to haunt her.

  Ghosts Of Romances Past

  19

  Eighteen-year-old Alice stepped off the bus with a blue suitcase clutched between both hands. It was her first time away from home for more than two weeks of summer camp.

  But the Winston Summer Art Program in Georgia was nothing like playing tetherball with eight year olds. Serious artists-to-be would spend a whole month studying everything from painting to pottery with some of the best in the crafts.