by J. L. Salter
Muir looked perplexed but did not inquire further about either role. “Oh, before I forget, what’s that tune you keep humming? I searched the Internet for Al Jolson songs, and none were familiar except Mammy.”
Danielle hummed the entire chorus again. “I suppose a hit song of 1913 pre-dates your awareness.”
“Yeah, but it’s still familiar sounding. What’s the name?”
“You made me love you… I didn’t want to do it.”
Her form not yet visible, Muir stared toward Danielle’s portrait. “What did you say?”
“That is the title, Mr. Muir.” Then she combined the melody with those words.
“Oh that song!” He smiled. “That was popular during World War Two. I’ve seen it in documentaries and war movies. A huge hit from one of the big bands.”
“I suppose it could have been re-recorded by others later, but the original Jolson version is what played in my music box.”
“The one you got from Neddy.”
She nodded. “It saddens me to speak of Neddy. Let us please discuss something else.”
“Well, before we get settled in, won’t you at least make yourself visible? I enjoy seeing you, too, you know”
She had not completely forgotten, but her own visibility was not something she had given measurable thought to during the past century. “Very well, Mr. Muir.” The instant she spoke, her form appeared, though on the other side of his chair from the direction he was looking.
“I thought you were over there,” he laughed. “You’re a regular ventriloquist.”
She knew that term, having seen a Vaudeville routine. “Spirits do not have the same constraints as mortals. My energy was speaking to you but I had not concentrated it into a specific form at that point.”
“Guess I’ve got a lot to learn about you.”
“Yet we do not have a surplus of time available.”
“What do you mean, Danielle?”
“It is something we should discuss later, but you will know when the time is opportune.”
Muir groaned. “So much mystery, so many secrets.”
“I do not have the luxury of blurting out every aspect of the differences between your realm and mine, Mr. Muir. I assure you, it is also frustrating to me to need assistance from a mortal to accomplish certain things.”
“Maybe I could help better if I knew what was going on.”
“In due time. Please be patient.”
Muir was quiet for several moments as he looked back and forth between Danielle and her portrait.
“Something troubles you?”
“Several years ago, I saw a movie with a woman and her kids who spent the whole film being terrified of the visitors and hiding from them. Only at the end of that spooky story do we realize that she and her kids were actually the dead people — they were the spirits.” Muir paused. “Is that the way it is sometimes for you?”
Danielle weighed her reply. “I do not hide, I merely resist trespassers. I am not frightened by mortals or even by the antics of presumptuous investigators, but it is irritating and cruel. It is as much harassment as a willful child poking a caged animal.”
“Do you feel caged?”
“I am captive, trapped, restrained, contained.” She felt tears. “It is a prison despite having no visible iron bars.”
“I’m sorry, Danielle. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He reached in his back pocket for a handkerchief and extended it toward her. “It still amazes me that a spirit can cry.”
Her hand positioning indicated she could not accept his offer. “Thank you, but that is a mixture of our two realms which does not work properly. I can dry my own tears with my own kerchief, but your linen would pass right through me.”
“Can you explain your tears?”
“As static spirits we feel pain that is not completely unlike yours. But in contrast to yours, some of our agonies last for eternity… or until our situation changes.” She dabbed her eyes again and then tucked her own kerchief into her lightly ruffled cuff. “Let us please change the topic to something less distressing.”
Muir closed his eyes as he apparently searched for one. “Oh, I told Lucy that we touched… and she positively freaked.”
“If that conveys her astonishment, then I can well imagine.”
“Of course, she also said that it was a big no-no.”
“Your friend is mostly correct. How did you respond?”
“I told her it felt so good that I couldn’t believe it was wrong.” Muir anticipated Danielle’s question. “But she scoffed at my reasoning and warned me to turn around and not even think about it again.”
“Is it your intention to follow that woman’s wise counsel?”
It took a moment for Muir to reply. “She teaches science and yet she apparently has no scientific curiosity about this part of the mystery of these two worlds, or its investigation.”
“Is that what it is to you, Mr. Muir? Investigation?”
“No, it should be that to Lucy. To me it’s excitement and exploration of the mind and soul and the…”
“The heart?”
Muir nodded. “I guess it’s no surprise that I’m very attracted to you, Danielle.”
He was supposed to become entranced and useful to her purpose, but not passionate. “Yes, you have been quite focused on my appearance, which is flattering.”
“But it’s a lot more. I also have deep feelings for you.” He gulped as though the words were too large in his throat. “And I want us to…”
Her only reply was to shift him off that topic. “Please…”
“Okay. Sorry.” He settled back into his chair. “But tell me about kissing in your time,” he said suddenly. “What was it like?”
“I should imagine it has not changed all that much. People certainly kissed in Shakespeare’s time, as I am sure you know from your own studies.”
“Yeah, but I had a notion it might be different now, maybe a bit hotter than it used to be.” He grinned mischievously. “Did you ever do it? With any of the guys you dated? With Neddy?”
Her blush admitted to it.
“That’s something else I don’t understand — how a ghost can blush.”
“I dare say, Mr. Muir, that no spirit has had occasion to blush if they had not encountered you and your brash statements and questions.”
He smiled again. “Will you kiss me?”
It partly surprised Danielle that Muir could still shock her. “Spirits and humans do not kiss, Mr. Muir.”
“Why not?”
“I do not know if I can explain it to someone so dense and yet so brazen.”
“You said we couldn’t touch either, but we did.”
“Actually, it was my directed energy which you perceived as a touch.”
Muir scooted forward slightly in his chair. “Okay, then if I can’t kiss you… you kiss me.”
“You do not know what you ask, sir.”
“You said we don’t have compatible forms, but I feel as though our energies are similar. I’m sure our energies can… kiss. And I want to taste you.”
“Besides impertinence, Mr. Muir, you are stubborn beyond belief.”
He merely grinned. “Let’s try.”
“You actually believe that I can kiss you… and if I possess the ability, I also have the corresponding willingness?”
Muir nodded.
Danielle shook her head. “This feels like a school yard dare which children would use to manipulate others.”
“But it could be science, too. Call it what you want.”
“And you will not be discouraged from this insistence?”
His smile faded and his eyes seemed to plead. “Your touch on my face felt… beautiful. On my lips, it should be…”
She blushed again. “I have never met anyone more impertinent.”
“Kiss me, please.”
Danielle leaned closer. “What is that aroma?” She took another sniff. “Shaving soap!”
“I found some acros
s the street. Thought you might like it, since you said it brought back memories.”
“Mr. Muir, it is delicious!” She inhaled deeply. “Not exactly the same brand Neddy used, I gather, but quite close. Very nice, thank you.”
“I didn’t actually shave with it, just rubbed a little on my face.” Muir grinned slyly. “I thought it might be a little extra incentive for your kiss.”
“Your trickery can be forgiven by your forthrightness.”
“As I hoped. So how about it?”
“Oh, very well. Give me a moment.” She remembered a component which would affect the outcome. “Be certain to close your eyes, so all our energies can be focused on the tactile sensation.”
Muir rubbed his palms on his denim covered thighs and nodded eagerly, then closed his eyes.
She kissed him lightly, then quickly pulled away and relocated her form a few feet farther back. It was not Neddy’s face or lips, of course, but with her own eyes closed, she could well imagine. And remember.
For a long moment Muir’s lips remain parted. Then he opened his eyes as he licked his lips. “More.”
“You do not realize what you ask.”
“Please.”
Danielle sighed and pointed to his eyes. When he’d closed them, she kissed him again — longer, deeper. Then she abruptly pulled away again, this time frowning.
After Muir licked his lips and opened his eyes, he obviously saw she was troubled. “What’s wrong?”
“It is all wrong. We are not supposed to have this sort of contact. It is a terribly erroneous combination of physical elements with communication that is everything but physical.”
“But it’s what I’ve been wanting since I first saw you.”
“Why, Mr. Muir? To what end?”
“What do you mean?” He appeared demoralized.
“Many others have entered these premises. When they have sensed me — whether they just thought about it, or sensed some other manifestation like sounds or smells, or if they even actually glimpsed me — they usually panicked and fled. So I was not faced with these perplexing and likely dangerous temptations. But you have remained, you are interacting. Indeed, you want more than contact.”
“Much more.” He nodded slowly.
“I must leave.” Her form backed away, though not very far.
“Can we kiss again before you go?”
She shook her head sadly as she positioned a fingertip near his lips. “No.” Then she turned, looked over her shoulder and mouthed a silent goodbye.
“Just one more…”
“You are impossible, Mr. Muir!” Flustered at him and frightened by her own feelings, Danielle immediately departed, leaving the aroma of a thousand butterflies.
Muir called after her. “Good night, Danielle. I’m counting on you to come back. Please.”
Chapter Twelve
Friday Morning, August 22
In the faculty lounge, Lucy stared at her handwritten note as she stirred a single sweetener packet into her lukewarm coffee. “With all the money in this school’s budget, you’d think they could afford a device that makes hot coffee,” she remarked to Anna, who’d just plopped down.
“What’s on the note?” Since it was still 7:45 a.m., Anna had not yet shouldered her usual perkiness. “You look like you just got notified of a tax audit.”
“Huh? Oh, this.” She handed over the note. “It’s from Mr. Sproule at the archives. He said he tracked down the name of that employee who was basically blackmailed by old man Gregg.”
“What’s the name?” Anna squinted at the scrawl. “Harrison. Doesn’t ring any bells with me.”
“Me either.” Lucy’s hand waved away the note’s existence and then her head fell forward until it nearly touched the stained table.
“What on earth is eating you today, Luce?”
“You won’t believe what he’s done now.”
“I gather this is about the new Romeo of the spirit world?” She tugged on an errant sprig of her straight black hair.
“Don’t make light of this, Anna. He’s going to ruin everything.”
“What do you mean? What happened?” She leaned closer. “Ruin what?”
“You know all this. As we comprehend things, there is basically a wall or chasm between our world and the spirit realm.”
Anna nodded. “Yet sometimes we are able to breach it… or they are.”
“Correct. Well, Levi’s been hypnotized or something. Now he’s apparently pursuing a relationship with this ghostess.”
“That’s nuts. It wrecks everything.” Anna had a way of restating things to make them seem like her own observations. “That screws up the entire continuum.”
“Fact is, we don’t know what it affects… could involve things we’ve never heard of. Of course, we don’t even how much contact is feasible, but he’s already taken a step I didn’t think was possible.”
“So what did he do? Snap her photo? Douse her with salsa dip?”
“Worse.” Lucy lowered her voice. “Levi touched her.”
“Touch a ghost? That’s, uh, well it’s…”
“Exactly,” said Lucy as her chin jutted slightly.
“Why on earth…?”
Lucy silently stared at the donut fragments on the napkin, close enough to grab if she had more energy.
Anna finally plopped the last significant donut piece into her mouth and chewed hurriedly. “That poor English teacher is in love, honey.”
“But his paramour is not even human.” Lucy shook her head sadly. “That really makes it sting.”
“Just as we were trying to get his attention back on you, Luce.”
“And I thought we were getting closer. But now he’s totally smitten, with her.”
“Can a beautiful entity put a spell on a man?”
“Happens all the time in Hollywood.” Lucy shook her head slowly and stared at her cooling coffee.
“True. But in south Alabama, ghosts shouldn’t be possessing mortals.”
“Well, possession might be too strong a word. But she’s certainly manipulating him.”
“That’s not right.” Anna tapped the table for emphasis. “Levi’s got no defenses against spectral manipulation. How extensive is it?”
“There’s been no update from their tête-à-tête last night. For all I know, Danielle pulled out her broom, flew him to Vegas, and married him.”
Anna gasped. “Do they even let ghosts marry out there?”
After overhearing Anna’s comment, a nearby math teacher looked up and relocated to a table farther away.
Only Anna giggled. “You think he heard us?”
Lucy’s eyebrows conveyed the answer.
“So what’s the next step, Luce? We need to break her hold on him, so we’ve got to have a plan.”
“No way to make plans. Besides everything else going on, Levi’s also keeping us from investigating the most active manifestation any of our members could’ve ever imagined… right here in Magnolia.”
“I thought you said that was the ghost’s mandate, and Levi just relayed the message.”
“Whatever. I think he’s got more to do with it than he’s letting on.”
Anna thoughtfully pinched a remaining piece of cold donut but didn’t yet raise it to her full lips. “Hold on. Now I’m not testifying for the defense here, but everything you told me prior to this minute suggested that Levi is more in the dark than the rest of us and he was simply repeating things the spirit told him.”
“Maybe so, maybe not.” Lucy groaned. “She usually visits him in the evenings. Most other nights, after Danielle left, Levi called me with an update.”
“Not every night. There was…”
Lucy held up her hand to halt the interruption. “And I’m pretty sure I know what they were up to last night.”
“I sure hope he doesn’t try to kiss her.”
“Me too, but tell me your reasoning.”
“Remember when Jack Nicholson kissed that ghost in The Shining?”
“Yeah,” Lucy nodded. “She turned out to be a worm-eaten hag.”
“And she wasn’t nearly as old as our Miss Gregg.”
“Yuck.”
****
Friday afternoon
Muir had only about four minutes before the pre-bell buzzer when he hustled into the faculty lounge and went straight to the far corner chairs where Lucy sat glaring at papers in a folder. “Got a minute?”
She nodded civilly and closed her folder.
When he plopped into the adjacent chair, its cushion expunged air with a disagreeable sound and several teachers looked their direction. “Sorry.”
Lucy just frowned. “I got a call from the archives. Mr. Sproule thinks he found the name of the employee who was threatened by Danielle’s father.”
“Anybody you know about?”
“Anna and I were talking earlier. Doesn’t ring any bells, but as I sit here and stare at the name, I get a vague sense of déjà vu.”
He slid over the note and read it quickly. “Pretty common name.”
“Maybe that’s it.” She retrieved the note and tucked it into her purse. “By the way, your ears must have been burning this morning.”
“What do you mean?”
“Anna and I were talking before school about how regrettable — uh, actually, how potentially disastrous — this is, the business about touching your ghostess.”
“Well, you keep chanting about disasters, but nothing bad has happened. In fact, things are going very well, and we’re already past the touch.”
When she lurched forward, her folder fell and spilled papers to the floor. “You’re what? How far past? How many bases did you reach last night?”
“Not sure what it’s called now, but at least first base.” He tried not to look smug.
“You kissed a ghost?”
“Yep. Twice.”
She groaned. “Any tongue?”
“Hard to tell. There’s something about the sensation that’s not totally complete.”
“At this point, nothing would surprise me, unless you said she left spectral lipstick on your face.” She peered closely as though she were checking.
“No lipstick that I know of, but the sensation felt wonderful. It was both warm and cold at the same time, but a stimulating mixture. It was a bit like electrical current, but just enough to tickle.” He took a breath. “It made my lips and tongue come alive.” Numerous sensory impulses.
