by Jacquie Gee
“She was?”
"Uh-huh, and I'm good with that, too, because, they had me." She smiles again, positively beaming. "Although, my real dad is dead. Phillipe Julian Arquette was his name, thus, the name Jules, in his honor, originally," she inclines her head sweetly, "and then later tweaked to, Julieta…after my mother meets her birth mother— and found out her real birth name. How cool is that? Double meaning. My mother and her birth mother entered our names on the family tree that way, that very day. That's why they appeared as they did." She grabs hold of my arms. Her fingers around my biceps squeezing tight. "It all came together, just as you said. The adoption, the secret marriage, you were right. You were right about everything." She throws her arms out at her sides. "I'm totally, unequivocally, Arianna's last living rela—”
I swoop in kissing the ‘tive’ away, crushing her tiny frame tight to my chest. She kisses me back with passion.
“But wait!” She squirms. “There’s more good news!” She wriggles away from my lips, still held up in my arms. “Hold that thought, for just a minute.” She darts back toward me, kissing me quick, and then… “I’m going to Milan!” she announces, her eyes wide as plates.
“What?”
“London first and then Milan. Well, actually… all by way of New York City—”
“You’re what?”
“I’ve been chosen. I leave on Wednesday!”
I let go of her, instinctively. “You’re… leaving?” I scowl, as she startles back. A piece of my heart slides with her.
“Well, not forever, silly. It’s only one tour.”
I’m still not getting it.
“My work. My dresses. My designs. I’ve been chosen, by a top world designer to join her on her tour. My dresses are going to strut the runway in both London and Milan!”
“Oh, my gosh,” I finally clue in. “That’s huge. Isn’t it?”
“Huge? It’s amazing!” She clasps my biceps and leads me to jump up and down, then leaps forward, cups my face in her hands and kisses me, long, and hard. “I still can’t believe it’s real!” she gasps when we come up for air. “More importantly.” She gets a sultry look in her eyes. “I go to New York on Wednesday to talk out the plans," she runs a cool finger over my bottom lip, "so we have until then," she whispers close, her lips brushing my lips. She inverts her neck and kisses me again, and when she leans back, a devilish streak appears in her eyes, shimmering chocolate gold, in the soft light of the parlor chandelier.
I could do her right here and now.
"Now, where were we?" She licks her lips and draws me close. Breath charges out of me rushed and heavy, as she lures me into another mind-searing kiss. All manner of inappropriate thoughts run through my head, and I struggle to gather my wits about me, but there's something I need to attend to. Something I promised I’d do.
"There's one last thing." I regretfully pull back from her kisses. "For Edgar, okay?" I gaze longingly into her eyes.
“Anything for Edgar.” She smiles up at me, and it’s all I can do to pull away. A promise is a promise is a promise.
We break apart and I feel an immediate sense of emptiness, and rush across the room to start the stereo. "Edgar's selection." I refer to the record, holding up the old wax 33-speed record for Jules to see.
“Wow, that’s an oldie,” she laughs. “Is it even gonna play?”
"It's supposed to." I examine the equipment. "Though I don't know how, he insisted." I drop the record over the post sleeve and start the turntable. "Dug it up from under the floorboards of the attic, I'm told."
“Oh, well, then it must be a treasure.”
I drop the needle down onto the thick wax disc. It stutters then skips twice before producing noise. Violin strings lull us into a distinct one-two time beat, strutting out a melancholy story before the rest of the wind section joins in. The sad drone of the oboe takes center stage, as the rest of the instruments create a sway.
“It’s a waltz,” Jules says, screwing up her face. “I don’t know how to waltz.”
“Like I do?” I make the same face.
I swoop dramatically back across the floor, in my best attempt at a waltz step, scoop up her giggling frame, crush her to my chest and begin swirling in circles to the music. “I believe it has a lot to do with turning.”
She giggles more. “I believe you’re right.”
"Lots and lots of turning."
I press my hand to the small of her back, pulling her into a series of stilted, awkward-knee bends along with me, as I turn. She giggles even more heartily than before the more exaggerated I make the move.
The music builds, and the orchestra plays, and the rhythm seems to take over my feet. Suddenly, they know what to do, shuffling gracefully over the floor, leading Jules into elegant, spiraling, stretched-out steps. Before we know it, we're in synch, twirling over the hardwood with utter grace and poise, gazing longingly into one another's eyes, as though something other than ourselves is in control.
The air in the room drops twenty degrees.
“Do you feel that?” I look up and around.
“Yes,” Jules says, her teeth slightly chattering. “Should we stop?” Her eyes graze the ceiling.
“No, it’s all right." I breathe, and my breath makes tiny smoke clouds.
A mist forms around us, turning green.
I know what’s going on, now.
The room takes on an eerie green glow.
I continue to whirl us around the floor, my gaze fixed back on Jules. Her gaze bright, charmed, and sparkling. I pull her closer, close enough for us to be one, our bodies entangled, yet still in sync. She pulls her face toward my neck and lays her head on my shoulder, and my arms suddenly don't feel like my own. My fingertips grow cold, along with my feet, and my breath becomes awkwardly uneven. I feel myself pulling away from my own skin.
I snap back and look down at her, feeling like I’m no longer looking through my own eyes. Someone else is there, gazing at her for me.
The sensation is mildly troubling.
Jules pulls back and looks strangely down at her hands, then oddly up at me. It is not she in her eyes, either. It is someone else.
We step aside, and they appear.
The ghostly human forms of Edgar Locklear and a dark-haired, sweet-faced woman, in an Edwardian dress, we can only presume, is the ghost of Edgar’s beloved Arianna… the two of them, back together, at last.
Jules gasps, bringing her hands to her face as the music builds. “Is that?” she says, gesturing to the girl.
“That’s Edgar, so it must be.” I reach over, taking her hand. I pull her close as we watch the pair continue their dance about the floor, their heads tilted, their smiles slightly tipped, their eyes gazing adoringly at one another. Arianna leans up as they twirl, her lips meeting Edgar’s lips, in a gentle kiss, and Edgar’s stoic expression melts.
The waltz finishes and their feet move in crisp double time steps, their twirls becoming tighter, the pair become less and less visible.
Something pulls at my heart watching them fade away.
I’m not sure I’m ready to part with him yet.
The music ends in a slowing cacophony of strings and Edgar and Arianna slow to a barely shimmering stop— their feet and hands no longer feet and hands, but glowing swirls of rising mist, lifting up from the floor. She wraps her swirled hand about his, turns and begins to lead him away, and my limbs feel like they’re tearing.
“Wait!” I shoot forward. It can’t end this way. I need to say one last thing.
Edgar turns back, a forlorn look in his eyes. His body dissipating quickly above the floorboard. His gaze meets my gaze. “Thanks, gramps.” I throw myself at him in a back-slapping hug. My hands travel straight through him, but his heart beats against mine. “I can’t thank you enough,” I squeeze the air, “for everything.”
“Don’t be silly,” He gasps. “I should be thanking you.” He turns his eyes to Arianna, clasped her swirling hand tight and, kisses the back of it. “A
nd you.” Edgar’s vibrant, glowing gaze fixes on Jules. “She would not have come for me, if had it not been for you.” His fading lips quiver.
Jules smiles, wiping a tear from her eyes, and I clasp her free hand even tighter.
“We must be going,” Arianna smiles sweetly at Edgar, and then to us. “There’s no more time.”
Edgar nods. "You two take care of yourselves." He smiles with his eyes, turns his back, and they are away, drifting seamlessly through the air toward the ceiling. Particles twinkle as they intermingle, spiraling up through the floorboards, our clothing and hair are blown back by their exiting wind.
“Edgar?” Jules hollers after him, stepping boldly into their space. “If you see my mother—”
"Done!" His garbled voice rattles as the last of their essence seeps through the cracks in the ceiling floorboards.
The wind stops, drops our clothes, and the room heats back up. A roaring fire sparks in the kitchen hearth.
“Do you think he’s gone?” Jules turns. “Do you think that’s it?”
"I dunno." I shake my head and lunge forward, flipping on the switches to all the cameras and monitoring devices I've got hooked up around room. A couple of them squelch, then go dead. The needles on the gauges that have fluctuated so erratically since the moment I arrived at the house, now rise one last time and then drop, motionless. Not a single crackle comes from any speaker. A blissful silence fills the room. "That's it." I look to Jules.
“Forever?”
"It appears so, yes." I nod, checking another gauge, tapping the face of it, just to be sure. I look up at her. A strange, sorrowful joy chokes off my throat. "No entity or energy detected any longer in this house, whatsoever. He's gone." My voice shakes. "He's passed over."
Chapter 34
Jules
I rush to Jayden’s side. He’s trembling. So am I. It’s been a traumatic last few moments. It’s not every day I see someone transcend this world, let alone someone cross over to retrieve them. I can only imagine what’s it’s been like for Jayden to live with a tyrant of ghost, turned grandfather, turned friend over the past few months— only to grow attached and have to let him go in the end.
“We should celebrate.” I kneel beside him, bringing my hands to his face. “Edgar would want it that way. After all, it’s a joyous occasion, isn’t it?” I look around, looking for Edgar’s approval, even though I know he’s gone. “I mean, wasn’t that the end goal to send him on his way? After, of course, you got the answers you came for.” I grin.
“I suppose it was, yes.” Jayden’s eyes glisten.
“Then, it’s the least we can do to thank him for bringing us together.” I pull him to a stand.
“What are you doing?”
I turn away, and his gaze follows me as I jaunt across the room. "Celebrating!" I say over my back, pulling up in front of the stereo. I give him a sultry wink, then tip-toe my fingertips through the record selection, until I come up with just exactly the right one, dropping it down over the post, and starting the machine. The turntable whirls to life, and I place the needle carefully into a groove. A familiar crackle crawls up my spine before the music begins to play. "I believe this is our song now." I turn to Jayden.
A full-lipped smile buds within his beard, as the silky voice of the singer begins to croon.
