Ghost Who Came for Christmas

by McIntyre, Anna J

  “Not true for blind people,” Walt pointed out.

  Danielle glared at Walt. “You know what I mean.”

  Walt shrugged and took a puff off his cigar.

  “And there is also the matter of the blood,” Danielle added.

  “What about it?” MacDonald asked.

  “If it was Anna’s, it was still wet when Joe found it. In your scenario, this would have all gone down before we got up in the morning, and I would assume by the time Joe found the rug, the blood would have been dry.”

  “Not necessarily,” MacDonald disagreed. “With all the rain we’ve been having, I imagine it’s rather damp in the attic. Quite possible for the blood to still be wet hours later.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “It was a great brunch, you should’ve come with us,” Lily told Danielle when she returned later Sunday afternoon. Danielle stood in the kitchen, making herself a sandwich.

  “Glad you liked it. Did everyone come back?” Danielle piled turkey on a slice of bread.

  Lily leaned against the counter and watched Danielle build her sandwich. “Joanne went home and Kelly left for Portland.”

  “Yeah, Kelly mentioned she was going to head back to Portland after the brunch. We already said goodbye.” Danielle set her sandwich on a plate and cut it in half. Before carrying it to the table, she put the lid back on the jar of mayonnaise and returned it to the refrigerator.

  “I put a movie on for Jessica in the parlor.”

  “Where’s everyone else?”

  “In the living room.” Lily followed Danielle to the table and took a seat across from her. “They had this amazing lobster quiche.”

  “A woman’s body washed up on the beach.” Danielle took a bite of her sandwich.

  “What?”

  Danielle nodded, finished chewing her bite, and then swallowed. “The chief stopped by. He said an unidentified woman washed up on the beach yesterday and he thinks it might be Anna.”

  “Oh no!” Lily’s eyes darted to the doorway.

  “I don’t want to talk about this around Jessica.”

  Lily shook her head, “Of course not. But why hasn’t there been an identification made—umm—we don’t have to go down there and do it, do we?”

  “No. Joe or Brian could have made an ID, but the woman’s face—I guess it’s pretty messed up. She must have fallen on the rocks. It’s impossible to tell what she looks like.” Danielle set her partially eaten sandwich back on the plate.

  “Oh, poor Anna.”

  “That’s assuming it’s Anna, which I’m not. The woman was wearing a nightgown. I don’t believe anyone forced Anna out of this house. And if she decided to leave in the middle of the night, in a storm, and take her clothes with her, I would think she’d first put her clothes on. She wouldn’t go out in a nightgown. That doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “If they can’t tell by her face, what about fingerprints?”

  “They already ran them, but the woman isn’t in the system. I guess they plan to have the blood on the rug tested.”

  “To see if it matches the woman they found?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When are you going to tell everyone?”

  “You said they’re all in the living room?” Danielle picked her sandwich up.

  “Yes.”

  “After I eat my lunch I’ll come tell them. Might as well do it before they hear about it on the radio or before Jessica finishes her movie.”

  When Danielle walked into the living room fifteen minutes later, she found Patricia sitting on the sofa with her MacBook on her lap. It was one of the gifts she had received from Benevolent Charities. Lily sat next to her, helping Patricia hook up to Danielle’s Wi-Fi.

  Danielle glanced around the room; she didn’t see Chris.

  “Missed you at brunch. We’re going to help Patricia find her brother,” Ian called out. He sat on one of the chairs facing the sofa. Richard sat on the other chair.

  “Really?” Danielle walked toward the sofa and looked down at the computer. “How are you going to do that?”

  “Ian said he’d help her search on the Internet.” Chris said when he entered the room.

  Danielle glanced behind her, looking at Chris, who had just come in from the hallway. She assumed he was either returning from his bedroom or the bathroom off the foyer. She flashed Chris a smile and then looked back to Patricia.

  “I’ve never been good at computers,” Patricia told her.

  “I see they’re all gathered together, are you going to tell them about the woman?” Walt asked Danielle when he appeared in the room.

  “You’re doing great so far.” Lily glanced up at Danielle, her expression questioning.

  Danielle looked at Walt and then at Lily. She shook her head and whispered, “Later.” Looking over at Patricia, she asked in a clearer voice, “So what’s this about finding your brother?”

  “Christmas has stirred so many memories for me this year,” Patricia explained. Smiling over at Richard, she added, “And I think a lot of it is Richard.”

  “Richard? What do you mean?” Danielle sat on one arm of the sofa.

  “In so many ways, he reminds me of my brother. I have to admit, I got this crazy idea that maybe…well, maybe Richard was my brother.”

  Danielle glanced over to Richard who fidgeted nervously in his chair. She thought he looked embarrassed.

  “How so?” Danielle asked.

  Patricia shrugged. “Little things. Some things he said, strange coincidences. And then I found out he and my brother share the same birthday. Not just the day, but the year.”

  “Does this mean your birthday was on Christmas Eve?” Lily asked Richard. She already knew the answer, since she’d been with Danielle when uncovering information on him.

  Richard nodded. “Yes.”

  “Patricia isn’t kidding.” Ian chuckled. “Last night she confided in me that she thought he might be her brother, so I did a quick Internet search on Richard this morning.”

  Surprised at the announcement, Richard and Lily turned abruptly to Ian.

  “You never told me that,” Lily said.

  “Well, he isn’t my brother,” Patricia sighed. She looked at Richard and smiled. “I suppose I always knew you really weren’t, after all, in the fairytale the princess—or prince in this case—is raised as a pauper and discovers he’s really a prince. Not the other way around.”

  “I’m curious, what did you find online?” Chris asked. He sat on the floor by the Christmas tree.

  “That proved Richard isn’t Patricia’s long lost brother?” Ian asked.

  Chris nodded. “Yeah.”

  “It didn’t take me long. First article I found was an extensive interview with Richard’s father. Discussed the birth of their only child on Christmas Eve, included pictures of him and his wife, bringing Richard home from the hospital. Discussed their time living abroad, returning to the states.”

  “I have to admit, I was disappointed.” Patricia laughed.

  “Look on the bright side,” Ian said. “You found a new friend in Richard, and if we’re lucky, we’ll track down your lost brother.”

  “You don’t know how much this means to me,” Patricia told them. “I really appreciate your help.”

  “First we need to—” Ian began.

  Richard stood up abruptly and blurted, “I can’t do this.”

  Wide eyed, Patricia looked at Richard. “I—I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, all this talk about how you remind me of my brother—I know you have your own family—”

  “No, No I don’t.” Richard shook his head and began to pace the room.

  “What is it?” Chris asked.

  Richard stopped pacing and looked at Patricia. “I think I’m your brother.”

  The room went silent. Everyone stared at Richard.

  After a few moments of silence, Ian said, “That’s impossible. I found your birth information.”

  Richard shook his head, “No. You found the
other Richard. The real one.”

  “I don’t understand,” Patricia muttered.

  Standing in the middle of the room, Richard looked around. They continued to stare at him. He took a deep breath. “I always knew there was something different, that something was wrong. I had memories, but my parents told me I needed to forget, that it was all a dream.”

  “Richard, perhaps it would be better if you started at the beginning,” Chris suggested.

  Looking down at Chris, Richard nodded and then returned to his chair.

  “After my parents died, I found papers in their safe. My adoption papers—and the other Richard’s death certificate.”

  “Other Richard?” Lily asked.

  “I learned that the people I knew as my parents—Richard and Rachael Winston, had another son. Richard Jr., who coincidentally was born on the same day as I was. They were living in Europe when he drowned in a swimming pool—he was six years old.”

  “Are you saying you aren’t their biological son?” Patricia asked.

  Richard nodded. “I’m not sure how—but they learned of a little boy in the foster care system, one who was up for adoption—who happened to be born on the exact day their son had been born. My mother—my adopted mother, saw it as a sign. She had to have me, and if Rachael Winston wanted something, Richard Winston got it for her.”

  Danielle and Lily exchanged glances. They were both thinking of the grave website Danielle had found on the first Richard Winston.

  “Oh my god, are you Bobby?” Patricia whispered.

  Richard looked at her. “I’m not sure, but I think so.”

  “How old were you when they adopted you?” Danielle asked.

  “Six,” Richard told her.

  Patricia frowned. “If you’re Bobby, that would mean they adopted you right after our mother died.”

  “I’m not saying the adoption was finalized when I was six, but according to the papers, that’s how old I was when I went to live with them. So yes, it would have been the same year, if I’m your brother.”

  “Six isn’t that young,” Danielle said. “I was six in the first grade, and I remember my teacher, my best friend from that year and even a field trip I took. Wouldn’t you remember?”

  “I…I think I did. My parents told me I had vivid dreams. Over the years, I came to accept the belief that those things I thought were memories were nothing more than dreams. And in later years they told me a little girl I insisted on remembering was nothing more than my childhood imaginary friend.”

  “Imaginary friend?” Lily asked.

  Richard looked Patricia in the eyes and said, “Yes. My imaginary friend. Her name was Patricia.”

  “And they never discussed your adoption?” Ian asked.

  “No. I never knew. In fact, my mother used to talk about when she was pregnant with me. She would show me pictures of her when she was pregnant. I have baby pictures. But they’re not me. I remember once, I dated this girl and my mother brought out the family photo album and showed her some pictures. The girl made a comment about how much I had changed from when I was a toddler to school age, even joking about how I looked like a different child.”

  “What did your mother say?” Lily asked.

  “She was furious. Hated that girl after that. I never really thought much about it. I just figured the girl offended my mother. It wasn’t long after that we stopped seeing each other.”

  “What about your parent’s friends, family? Wouldn’t they have said something?” Danielle asked.

  “The first Richard died when they were living in Europe. From what I can tell, they got me within a week after returning to the states. Quite frankly, I think they led their friends here to believe I was their biological child.”

  “That’s how our parents knew each other,” Chris spoke up. Everyone in the room looked at him. “The boating accident that killed our parents—that boat was owned by their attorney—their adoption attorney.”

  “You’re adopted too?” Patricia asked.

  Chris nodded. “Yes, although it sounds like my situation was much happier than Richard’s. For one thing, I didn’t have to compete with my parent’s dead child. And I never doubted my parents loved me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The inevitable happened. Patricia and Richard hugged. Of the two, which one started crying first wasn’t clear. Even Lily and Danielle found themselves wiping away tears, and while tears weren’t slipping down Ian’s cheeks, they were in his eyes. Chris was the only one of the six with dry eyes, yet Walt—who was sitting back observing the scene—thought Chris wore a supreme expression of relief, and Walt couldn’t figure out why.

  “Even if the DNA test proves we aren’t brother and sister, that this is just some bizarre coincidence, we have to stay friends, please,” Patricia begged.

  Richard laughed. “The way my memories have been flooding back this week, I would be surprised if the DNA proves we aren’t, but yes. And even if we aren’t I still want to help you and Jessica, be there for you.”

  “Help?” Patricia frowned.

  “I can buy you a house…and…”

  Patricia grabbed Richard’s arm and squeezed it. “Richard, this isn’t about money. I don’t expect you to buy us anything, even if the DNA tests proves our hunch is correct. I just want my brother back.”

  Richard shook his head and laughed, giving Patricia another hug.

  “This is all very touching,” Walt said as he stood up. “But this sentimentality—it’s draining.” Walt disappeared.

  When the doorbell rang, Danielle was reminded of what she meant to discuss with everyone—before Patricia and Richard’s startling revelation. She was fairly certain who was at the door—Chief MacDonald. Her initial intention was to let everyone know about the body that had washed up on shore before he arrived. Now, she didn’t want to say anything, because Richard and Patricia were so excited about finding each other. That was of course, if they really were siblings.

  She excused herself and went to answer the front door. As she suspected, it was the chief.

  “Afternoon Danielle, I assume they’ve all returned?” Wearing his uniform and cap with the department insignia, MacDonald stood on the doorstep.

  “Yes, Chief. Have you gotten the blood test results back yet?”

  “No. I doubt we’ll have that until tomorrow. Are you going to let me come in or do you plan to make me stand on the porch all afternoon?”

  “Chief,” Danielle whispered, stepping outside and partially closing the door behind her. “This really is a bad time. And Jessica, she’s the young girl staying here, is in the parlor watching a movie. I really don’t want her to know anything yet—or at all. She really liked Anna, and if the woman you found isn’t Anna, I see no reason to upset her.”

  “I guess this means you are going to make me stand on the porch all afternoon.”

  “Please Chief, can we do this tomorrow…after you get the blood results?”

  “Why don’t you want me to come in? Who are you protecting?” He tried to look over her shoulder.

  “This has nothing to do with Anna or the body that washed up, I promise,” she whispered.

  The chief stared at her.

  “Chief, you don’t even know if the woman is Anna. So, why don’t you wait until the results of the blood test are in before upsetting all my guests.”

  “Danielle, what’s going on?”

  She let out a sigh and glanced over her shoulder and then looked back at the chief. In a rush she said, “If you must know, two of my guests—Patricia and Richard—who just happened to come here for Christmas and didn’t know each other before this week—or at least didn’t realize they knew each other, just discovered they may be each other’s long lost sibling and at the moment the emotions are very high and springing this on them right now—especially when we really don’t know if that woman is Anna—just does not seem like the right thing to do.” When she finished she took a deep breath and added, “Please Chief, can we
wait until tomorrow, after the test results?”

  MacDonald blinked several times and asked, “You’re serious?”

  “About what? Wanting to wait until tomorrow or about Patricia and Richard maybe being siblings?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  Daniella nodded. “Very serious.”

  After a moment he said, “Fine. But tomorrow, when the test results come in, I expect you all to come into the station. We’ll talk there.”

  Danielle nodded. “Okay, deal. I’ll make sure everyone is there.”

  Walt stood in the attic and looked around. The sleeper sofa was still pulled out, made into a bed. No one had moved Anna’s suitcase from the center of the mattress. He wondered if Danielle expected Anna to return. She might, providing she wasn’t the woman who had washed up on shore the day before.

  Walking to the window, Walt was about to adjust the spotting scope when he heard small feet race across the wood floor and then a thumping sound, as if whoever was running had just hit the wall. Looking in the direction of the sound he spied a flash of dark fur disappear under the bed.

  Hands on hip, Walt turned from the window and looked down at the mattress. Assuming the cat was hiding under the bed, he asked, “Max, what are you doing?”

  White tipped ears popped up in the narrow opening, where the head of the mattress butted up to the sofa’s backrest. After a moment, the rest of the head pushed its way through. Max blinked and stared at Walt.

  “You’re going to get stuck in there,” Walt warned. “What do you mean we have rats?...You what?”

  Walt found Danielle in the living room. They were all still discussing Richard and Patricia’s possible connection, and now Patricia was recounting stories of their youth, in hopes Richard would recall some of the events.