Ghost for Sale

by Sandra Cox

  She reached over and picked up the photographs that Ethel had brought and laid them on the table. Then she placed her hand on the pictures, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.

  Everyone stopped talking. The room grew quiet. All was silent except for a light swish of material and a low tinkle from a single bell as Marcy shifted in her seat. We held our collective breaths. Only Ethel’s features registered dismay, and I had no doubt that had to do with someone touching the pictures.

  Several moments passed. Finally, Sasha spoke, her eyes still closed. “Your spirit has a strong presence. He’s a good man. He wants his sister to move into the light, but he is reluctant to leave you.”

  My gaze shifted and collided with Liam’s. He now stood on the table near the flame of the candles. His gaze held mine, his face somber.

  “Oh, how romantic,” Ethel whispered.

  “Everyone please be quiet,” Sasha murmured. She placed both hands on the group photograph. She ran her index finger over everyone in the picture. “Anna, your visitant spirit’s sister, mourns for her fiancé, William. William mourns for Anna.”

  The lights flickered and thunder rumbled. Uh-oh. My gaze flew to Liam.

  “At least she didn’t mention uniting them.” Liam jumped to the floor and moved to the table’s edge next to me. He leaned his hips against it and braced a hand on the table.

  I inhaled his sensual scent. My skin tingled with the light rush of electricity his nearness always brought.

  “The man who stands between them is near. He’s a boy really. Afraid to join us, afraid we’ll make fun of him, that he won’t be welcome.

  “Anna was the only one that ever cared about him. If she goes to William, she won’t want him anymore. The day she was going to marry, she was leaving him, going to William. If he lets her go now, he’ll be alone throughout eternity, surrounded by darkness with no one.”

  The words tore at me. Poor, unloved boy. “What happened to him?” I whispered.

  “He died of scarlet fever a year after Anna passed.”

  On impulse, I put my hand over Sasha’s, then clutched it to keep from drawing back. Nerves skittered and jumped under her skin. Power surged through her.

  “Of course she’ll still care about you, Ezra. You can go with her, with Anna, William and”—my voice cracked—“Liam. You’ll live with the angels, Ezra. They’ll take care of you.”

  The atmosphere grew heavy. Tension built like a low rolling raincloud.

  “He wants to believe you, but he’s afraid it’s a trick.” The thick air grew chill. Goose bumps popped up on my skin. I’d never be warm again.

  “Tell him, Liam,” I whispered.

  “Ezra, my sister doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. Of course she’d let you stay with her. It’s time we all moved into the light.”

  My hand dropped away. Sasha stretched out her arms and threw back her head. “Anna and William, make your presence known. Come to those in this circle so we can guide you to the next cycle of your journey. We will send you into the light.”

  The faces around me lost all color. Marcy’s eyes grew huge.

  I grabbed the table. My fingers tightened around the edge of the smooth wood. The angles of Liam’s face, especially his cheekbones, were sharp and prominent, blood red in color. He wore a look of tense expectancy. My breath went out in a whoosh as I watched it change from one of edgy anticipation to a joy and beauty that took my breath away.

  I couldn’t see anything. I leaned toward Liam. “Is it Anna?”

  “Yes, with William. They’re walking hand in hand. She’s motioning for Ezra to come with them, and she’s holding a hand out to me.”

  A golden glow surrounded him. He made no move to go to his sister. I knew what held him back…me.

  I swallowed and tried to speak. Nothing came out. I tried again. This time I forced out, “Go. Don’t make them wait again.”

  He looked at me, the light surrounding him blinding. “I love you. I’ll always carry you in my heart, Caitlin King, and I can see I’ll always be in yours. But promise me you’ll live life to the fullest and be happy. Promise me.”

  Or you’d never leave me, would you? I bit my lips hard and nodded.

  He stepped through the air and turned. For one brief moment, they were all together and visible. Anna and William, their arms around each other, their faces glowing with love and happiness, Ezra standing behind Anna, smiling, his face looking at something I couldn’t see. I hoped it was the angels. And my Liam, his hand in his sister’s. “Promise me.” His gaze held mine.

  “I promise,” I whispered, my fingers crossed behind my back.

  Electricity snapped through the room and they were gone.

  The room spun madly. My heart ached. My throat closed. For one crazy moment, I wondered if I was having a heart attack. And then, for the first and only time in my life, I fainted.

  Chapter 17

  Strong arms circled me. Something thumped erratically against my ear. I hovered just below consciousness. I should have pushed myself to awareness, but the knowledge of something too painful to be born held me back.

  “Take her into the bedroom.” I recognized Marcy’s voice.

  “Is she all right?” Patrick sounded anxious and strained. Voices murmured in the background, a low hum like a swarm of bees.

  “She’s had a shock. But she’s strong, she’ll recover.” The voice was familiar, but I wasn’t certain who it belonged to, nor did I want to know. If I remembered who, I’d remember other things as well.

  Patrick’s arms tightened. He scooped me up against his chest and strode out of the room. Moments later, my head hit the pillow. The cool cotton beneath my cheek made me shiver. The cold permeated my bones. Would I ever feel warm again?

  “I’ll call her tomorrow.” Silence followed for a heartbeat. “I don’t know how to compete with a ghost.”

  “Just give her time, Patrick.” Marcy’s voice came from a long way off.

  Ghost? Liam! Pain hit me from all sides. I couldn’t breathe, then decided not to try as I hurled down into blackness.

  * * * *

  I don’t know how long I slept, just that whenever I came close to consciousness, my mind shut down.

  “Come on, honey, you’ve slept on and off for three days. Your mom’s called several times. Patrick wanted to call an ambulance, but I wouldn’t let him. I knew you’d snap out of it. By the way, it’s Sunday, brunch day.” Damp heat mixed with the scent of strong aromatic coffee tickled my nose.

  My hands shaking, I pushed up and reached for the coffee Marcy held under my nose. I took a sip, then set the cup on the bedside table and stretched. “Hi,” I croaked.

  “Hi.” A frown of concern wrinkled her brow and marred her normally cheerful countenance.

  I looked around for Liam. Liam. There was no more Liam. My breath caught in my throat and I began to hyperventilate. I couldn’t breathe. Harsh rasping sounds came from my throat.

  “Put your head down.” Not waiting to see if I obeyed, Marcy shoved my head between my knees. My closed lungs opened. I pushed Marcy’s hands away and sat up, my breath uneven and sharp.

  With a sympathetic smile, she reached over and touched my hand. “I know this is difficult for you. I’m going to miss our ghost too.”

  I knew she meant well, was trying to comfort me. But I’d passed the rational stage when Liam left me.

  “He was never your ghost. Don’t you understand?” My voice rose. “He came to me.” I fisted my hand against my heart. “Me.” My voice cracked and to my horror, I broke into harsh, noisy sobs.

  “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.” Marcy leaned over, scooped me up, and rocked me back and forth.

  I cried till Marcy’s shirt was soaked and there was no liquid left, till my tear ducts clogged and my eyelids swelled.

  I pulled back and wiped my face with the edge of my shirt. She handed me a tissue and I blew noisily, before pushing to my feet. “T
hanks. I didn’t mean to be such a bitch. But you know what you said about it being okay?”

  She nodded, head slightly turned, her eyes narrowed.

  “I’m not sure it will ever be okay, at least not for the next fifty or sixty years.” I twisted the soggy tissue into a ball.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say or do to make things better for you. Do you want me to tell the folks you’re sick and skip the brunch?”

  For half a second I gave it serious thought before I shook my head. “Mom and Aunt Janet would both be over here fussing like two mother hens. I better get it over with.”

  “I’ll let you get ready.” She touched my arm before she walked away. At the doorway, she paused and turned. “I’m truly sorry. I know you loved him.”

  Unable to speak, I nodded and headed for the bathroom. One look in the mirror told me my face looked every bit as bad as I’d anticipated.

  The splotchy-faced stranger who looked back at me had dull, red-rimmed eyes. Suck it up, Caitlin, the world hasn’t ended. But it had. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. My head pounded with a dull constant throb.

  I turned the water in the shower on as hot as it would go and climbed in. The scalding drops beat against my body and I welcomed the heat, hoping it would drive out the cold. It didn’t.

  I raised my head and sniffed the air, but there was no lime and cinnamon, only the cherry vanilla scent of the shower gel. He was gone.

  My tear ducts weren’t clogged after all. Hot droplets spurted from my eyes and mingled with the sharp spray of water that ran in rivulets down my face.

  When there was no more hot water, I dragged myself from the marble-tiled stall. Dense condensation filled the room. I looked around helplessly. All I wanted to do was climb back in bed. Instead, I wiped the mist from the mirror and leaned into it. “You can do this.”

  Splashing cold water on my face, I did the best I could to hide the ravages of weeping. It took me a long time to get ready. My clothes weighed me down. Everything was an effort, even running a brush through my hair. Finally ready, I stepped out of the bedroom to meet Marcy. We’d both worn black.

  * * * *

  Conversation at the dinner table ebbed and flowed around me. Marcy nudged me at appropriate moments and I’d nod. The peas on my plate looked like tiny green marbles I pushed around with my fork. My eyes pooled when I looked at the gravy covering my mashed potatoes and remembered Liam and the gravy boat.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Caitlin?” Dad asked. “This is the third time your mom has asked you the same question.”

  “Wh-what?” I stammered.

  “What’s wrong with you? Why is your face all red and blotchy? Why aren’t you talking?” The questions came rat-a-tat-tat, bulleted at me like the journalist he was.

  “Noth—” To my intense embarrassment the tears so near the surface swelled and spilled over.

  “Caitlin?” He tossed down his napkin and started to rise from his chair.

  I jumped out of mine. As I headed for the door, Dad asked, “She’s not pregnant, is she?” Every father’s secret nightmare.

  “From a ghost?” Marcy responded.

  Oh my God. I fled the house.

  My sides heaving, I made my way to the back of our little cottage and slid into a lounge chair where I stared at the glistening water. This place always brought me comfort. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and let the sun warm me. Slowly, the shudders wracking my body subsided. I pretended Liam was beside me in the other chair.

  “Caitlin.” My father’s voice was gentle.

  “Hmm?” I didn’t open my eyes, holding tight to my hard won control. The other chair creaked. I winced. Liam should have been lounging in that chair.

  My father took my hand, gave a light squeeze, and let go. “Can you tell me about it?”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “I’m a good listener.”

  He’d never believe me. “I know you are.”

  “Was your ghost in the kitchen the day Vel nearly dropped the gravy boat?”

  My eyes flew open.

  His hands clasped, Dad leaned toward me. His face held concern but none of the skepticism I’d expected.

  “If I said I’d seen and conversed with a ghost, you’d believe me?” I shaded my eyes from the sun’s glare.

  “Honey, if you told me the sun rose in the west, I’d believe you.” He said it simply, his features sincere.

  “Oh, Dad.” I stumbled out of the chaise and into his arms. He pulled me down beside him.

  “Hush, baby, it’s okay.”

  “Why do people keep saying that? It’s not okay. It’s not going to be okay.”

  He sighed and patted my shoulder.

  I took a shuddering breath and straightened. He handed me a pristine white handkerchief. I honked into it.

  “There’s my girl. Now tell me what happened.”

  I told him all of it, ending with, “I fell in love with a ghost. How crazy is that?” I picked at the edges of the soggy handkerchief.

  “Do you realize how lucky you are?”

  “Lucky?”

  “On so many levels. You got to see into a dimension that people have never been sure existed. And you saved two tormented souls. You united them, let them finally be together.”

  The knot in my belly loosened. I leaned over and hugged him. “I love you, Dad.” His hard, warm arms circled me. His heart beat steady against my ear. For just a moment, I was his little girl again, safe in those arms where nothing could harm me. “You would have liked him.”

  “I’m sure I would.”

  “Would you like to see his picture?”

  Dad threw me a startled look. “How would I do that?”

  I pulled my phone out of my little black clutch purse. “There was a picture of him at the Preservation Library in Ruby Falls.” My insides warmed at the picture of my ghost. I handed the phone to my father.

  “So this is…”

  “Liam O’Reilly,” I supplied.

  “A handsome young man.”

  “Oh, yeah.” For a too brief moment, my depression lifted.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “What do you mean?” With a last look at Liam, I slipped the phone back into my purse.

  “You’re still planning on going to Virginia Tech this fall, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” But it was months away. The summer loomed long and lonely.

  “Have you given any thought to writing down your adventures?” The lounge chair squeaked under him as he shifted.

  “Like a book?”

  “Yes, like a book.”

  “Actually, I have. But not to sell. Just for myself, and for Aileen and Ethel, you know?”

  “Self-publish then.”

  “I could, couldn’t I?” I straightened, the seed planted. This was something I could do to honor Liam. I’d put everything down on paper so I’d never forget. I’d put the pictures in too.

  “It’s a story I’d love to read.”

  “I appreciate your interest. Thanks, Dad, for everything.” I heaved to my feet.

  “Hungry?” Dad asked.

  “Starved.” To my surprise, I realized it was true. My stomach gurgled at the image of Vel’s fried chicken. I hesitated. “After all the drama, I’d rather not go back to the brunch.”

  “Marcy brought you back a plate.” He threw his arm around me, and we walked companionably to the cottage, my head resting on his shoulder.

  “I’m going to write a book, Marcy,” I announced as we strolled into the kitchen. “And tell Liam’s story.”

  “I’m sure it will be a bestseller,” she said and poured me a glass of sweet tea. The cubes clinked as she handed it to me.

  “Not that kind of book. I’m just going to have a few copies made.” I took the glass and glugged thirstily.

  “I’m going home, honey. Call if you need me. Why not stop by this week for dinne
r?” Dad patted me on the shoulder.

  “I will.” Guilt washed over me. I should have gone before.

  He kissed me on the cheek and walked out.

  “Are you better?” Marcy’s gaze swept over my face, searching.

  “It hurts.” I rubbed my chest. “But people don’t die of a broken heart.” It made my jaws ache, but I managed to plaster a smile on my face.

  I continued, determined, “I have you and the family. I’ll write Liam’s story. We’ll go to school in the fall. I’ll be fine.”

  Marcy opened her mouth. Before she could respond, the phone rang.

  “I’ll get it.” She touched my arm, then headed for the phone.

  I sank down into a kitchen chair, glad I no longer had to smile. I made wet intertwining circles on the table with the bottom of my glass as I rotated it back and forth.

  Marcy popped her head back in. “It’s Clayton.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I really don’t…”

  She threw up her hands. “You know how he can be. Short of hanging up on him, there was no putting him off.”

  “I’ve got no problem with you hanging up on him,” I grumbled. “All right. All right.” I pushed my chair away from the table and trudged to the phone. “Hello, Clayton.”

  “Hey, babe, what’re you doing?”

  Babe? “What do you want?” I sank down onto the sofa. I didn’t have the energy to stand.

  “I thought we’d take in a movie tonight. We haven’t gone out in a while.”

  “I’m not in the mood for a movie.” The abstract on the far wall done in shades of dark blue, black, and gray reflected my mood to a T.

  “How about dinner then?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Come on, you have to eat,” he coaxed.

  “I’m in the middle of something.” Or soon would be. I wanted to start my book. I needed a connection to Liam, no matter how tenuous.

  “What?”

  “I’m writing a book.”

  “Really?” Polite indifference came through the phone. Then his voice brightened. “That might be a nice little hobby for you after we marry.”

  “Excuse me?” That got my attention. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it before continuing. “Are you insane?”