by Tegan Maher
I rinsed the last of the soap from my hair, turned to face the shower, and kick up the water temperature to scalding, hoping to chase the chill away.
"Nice view," the man's voice said from behind me.
I jumped and spun around so fast I almost tipped right out of the shower. Frantically I wiped the excess water from my eyes and stared. "Nick?" No, I was not seeing my husband's ghost. But sure enough, he was standing in front of me with that smirk on his face that I knew and loved. That was it. I had officially lost my mind.
"Claire? Can you hear me?" Nick asked, standing outside the shower.
I nodded. A lump formed in my throat. Tears stung my eyes. "I can see you, too." I shivered, unsure if it was because of the faulty hot water heater or shock setting in. I turned off the water and stood dripping on the base of the shower, blinking as if expecting Nick to disappear. A cruel joke played on my desperate widow's mind – but he was still before me. I raced forward, stepping out of the shower. Nick did the same, arms outstretched to catch my embrace.
I passed right through him.
Instantly, I was hit with the most intense brain freeze of my life. My palm smacked the middle of my forehead. It was as if I'd sucked a gallon of ice water through a straw too fast. I crouched low to the ground, squinting my eyes shut. Water puddled on the linoleum.
"Are you okay?" Nick's voice was unnaturally close to my ear. It sent shivers down my spine.
I held up my index finger as if saying, "just one minute," as I tugged the towel free from the bar above my head. Wrapped in cotton, I rubbed the spot between my eyebrows aimlessly and stood I took in all six feet of my husband. He looked the same as always, his dark hair curling at the nape of his neck, his sharp, aristocratic nose, and those green eyes that I had missed so much. "Sweet cinnamon roll, it really is you." I shook my head trying to make sense of it all, but Nick's presence defied all logic. My heart raced and my limbs tingled. I tried to swallow, but my mouth wasn't working. I stood open-mouthed and in awe. My body fell prisoner to adrenaline. A surge of emotions took over. It was too much too process. I felt my consciousness slip away and right then and there, I passed out.
When I woke, I could hear Ellen downstairs in the bakery's kitchen. I knew it was her by the way she whistled while she worked. The faint notes drifted up the stairs. I slowly sat up and looked all around the bathroom, but Nick was gone. The only thing that remained was a floating blue light in my field of vision. I rubbed my head and wondered how hard I had hit when I went down.
"Hard enough to see spots," I answered for myself. Or make that spot. Just one hovered nearby.
As I got dressed, I found myself questioning my sanity. The conversation had been real, hadn't it? I badly wanted to believe it, and that's what made me question myself all the more.
"Good morning," Ellen chirped as I came down the back staircase into the kitchen. Ellen was already busy sweeping the floors. She motioned to the styrofoam takeout container on the counter. "I was just about to put it in the microwave to keep it warm," she said, referring to my breakfast.
"Thanks." Truth be told, I was feeling a bit weak from the shower incident. Maybe some food would help.
"Eat up. It looks like we'll need our energy to get the bakery shining like new."
"Ain't that the truth." I shuffled over to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup and prepared to tuck into my breakfast. Opening the takeout container, I saw my favorite – a western omelet with Texas toast in the side. What could I say? Ellen was a nurturer.
"Rough night?" Ellen asked me, referring to my silence.
"More like rough morning," I closed my eyes and replayed the scene in my head. It clearly hadn't been a dream.
Ellen nodded but didn't press me for details. "Well, hopefully having a full belly will help."
"I was thinking the same thing. Thank you so much--for everything," I added and then debated how much to tell Ellen about this morning's events. I didn't want her to think I was crazy, but then again, this was Ellen I was talking about. She was nothing like my close-minded immediate family--my sister, Deputy Autumn or my mother, Ms. Proper. Even if my mom believed me, she'd tell me to keep it quiet less it might scare off husband number two. Insert eye roll here.
I was just about to tell Ellen about this morning when Nick popped up right then and there in the middle of my breakfast. I was mid-eating. My fork passed right through his transparent stomach and straight into my omelet, spearing fork full of eggs and green pepper in the process.
"Holy sheet cake!" I dropped the fork and jumped back before I could help myself. Nick's sudden appearance caused my heart to skip a beat. I placed my hand on my chest to steady myself.
"What, what is it?" Ellen asked, holding the broom in a defensive position and ready to strike out at whatever had caused me alarm.
"Um... It's...ah..." I stammered as I peered back at my breakfast and saw that Nick's face was nowhere to be seen. I let out a shaky breath.
"Don't tell me it's a mouse. That's the last thing we need in here."
"Not exactly," I confessed.
Ellen stared, waiting for me to continue.
I swallowed. "You're not going to believe it, but I just saw Nick."
"Come again?" Ellen asked her voice as polite as ever.
"Just now, he was standing in the middle of my omelet, and earlier today he visited me in the shower. Like his ghost," I added in case that wasn't obvious.
"My word, did he really?"
"I think so. I mean, we talked to each other this morning, and then he was right here a second ago," I looked around the kitchen, "but now I don't see anything." No sooner or the words out of my mouth before I noticed the floating blue light again. This time it was next to the coffee pot. "Unless, do you see that blue light?" I pointed to where the ball was floating.
Ellen squinted her eyes. "You mean, like an orb?"
"A what?" I hadn't heard the term.
"You know, spiritual orbs. They're balls of energy connected to ghosts."
"Spiritual orbs," I repeated, watching the blue ball dance around my kitchen.
"They said spirits are energy and the balls of light represent our loved ones."
"Who's they?" I asked, looking at Ellen in a new light.
"You know, those guys on those ghost hunting shows. They talk about them all the time."
"Can you see the one right now? It's right there by the coffee pot." The ball of light zipped over toward the fridge before doing a loop de loop in front of the double-wall ovens. I followed it with my index finger.
"I wish I could. But all I see are a few dust bunnies. Here, let me sweep those up." Ellen took the broom and swept underneath the ovens.
I exhaled as the light went out of existence. "Well, whatever it was, it's gone now." I looked back down at my omelet and was no longer hungry. In fact, I felt down-right depressed. "Do you think I should talk to someone, make sure I'm not losing my mind?" I asked Ellen after a moment.
"Good heavens no. I mean, not just because of a ghost. What if Nick really is visiting you? Everyone knows he was wild about you. Remember that time he serenaded you with a bouquet of donuts on your birthday? The bakery was packed, and he just belted out Happy Birthday."
"Ha, yeah, I remember."
"Well, I doubt much has changed."
That got a blush out of me. Nick and I were soulmates. I believed that with every fiber of my being. It was cruel the way our love story was cut short. "I hope that you're right. I just miss him so much. I want to make sure my mind isn't playing tricks on me." I closed the takeout container and put the remainder of my breakfast in the fridge before spotting the overdue water bill on the counter behind the toaster. The only thing missing was a stamp, which I was sure there was one in the drawer. I rummaged around until I found the square postage and affixed it to the front of the bill. I didn't want to admit how long the bill had been sitting there waiting for me to do just that. Turning, I said to Ellen, "I'm going to run the mail out and get some
fresh air."
"Okay, take your time. You know where I'll be," she said as I stepped outside.
2
The fresh northern air cleared my thoughts more than any cup of coffee ever could. I loved my hometown. Sure, there was a time when I wanted nothing more to leave home and explore the world, but it had been some years since wanderlust had struck. I blame Nick for that. He was the one that wanted to plant roots in Blue Clair Bay -- like the London's before him -- and after pastry school and saying I do, I came around to his way of thinking. It didn't hurt that the bakery space became available at the same time, and Nick worked relentlessly to turn my dreams into a reality. I couldn't believe that that was only a few years ago. It felt like a lifetime.
Blue Clair Bay was the perfect town if you liked to experience all four seasons (and didn't mind that six months of them were winter.) The town was off M-22 in northern Michigan, about a thirty-minute drive up the peninsula from Traverse City -- an area known for its wine as much as its cherries. Up here, we survived on tourism with a few local full-time residents. I had missed the summer season, and if I didn't get my act together soon, I'd miss the holiday rush too. Around me businesses were already decorated for Halloween. The art gallery went for a tasteful display with eerie-inspired artwork in the windows and a fall-themed stained-glass display, while the local diner went country chic. Bales of hay sat outside along the sidewalk with pumpkins perched on top and bundles of cornstalks wrapped and propped outside the front door. And I knew if I kept on walking, Carol's bar would have a skeleton or too welcoming visitors and locals alike to come on in and sit for a spell.
Speaking of residents, I spotted one longtime local walking towards me. "Morning Mr. Franks," I said to the elderly gentleman. Eugene Franks was muttering to himself and shaking his head, lost in thought. The morning was downright chilly. They were almost always on the cool side, being this far north and on the water. A stiff breeze kicked up from the bay and blew my hair forward. I tucked the loose strands of hair behind my ear and noted Mr. Franks was dressed for the weather more than I was. He wore a tweed golf cap and a burgundy V-neck sweater with tan dress pants. He was a man who had a considerable amount of wealth and always dressed respectably.
"Oh. Sorry...didn't, um...see you." Mr. Franks' reply was broken.
"Everything okay?" I asked, taking in his somewhat befuddled expression.
"Fine, fine," he muttered, and I didn't believe him for a second. I was about to ask him if I could help him somehow or invite him in for a cup of coffee. The bakery might not officially be open, but that didn't mean I couldn't offer up some hospitality. I went to extend him an invitation when Ellen called out to me. I turned over my shoulder.
"Sorry to be a bother, but your mother's on the phone and she insists on holding." Ellen wore an apologetic expression on her face.
"Of course she does," because my mother knows I probably won't call her back otherwise. I turned back to Mr. Franks, but he wasn't anywhere to be found. Both sides of the street appeared empty. For being an older man, Mr. Franks sure was spry. Shrugging my shoulders, I walked back inside the bakery.
"Claire, are you there? Did you pick up the line?" My mother's voice came through the receiver loud and clear. I mentally calculated how many weeks until she returned to Florida for the winter. The answer? It was too many. "I'll take that silence as a yes," she added.
"Yes, mother, I'm here. What's up?"
"What's up? Did you just ask me what's up?" Caroline scoffed.
"Good grief. Would you like it better if I asked to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Now that's more like it. You know, I'm not going to be around forever --" Caroline quickly shut her mouth. My mother couldn't dangle her mortality in front of my face like a guilt trip anymore. I knew all too well how precious life was.
"Anyway," Caroline cleared her throat. "Where was I? Oh! Would you like to join your sister and me for lunch at Maurice's? They have the most marvelous harvest salad with that fresh cherry vinaigrette that I'm just wild about. You know the cherries are local."
"Yes, mother, I know that. You tell me every time."
"Say one o'clock?" Caroline asked.
"Autumn is for sure coming?" I asked. It would be just like my mother to set me up on a blind date.
"I'm sure she will after I invite her."
"That's not the same thing," I quipped.
"I'll see you at one o'clock then." Caroline went to hang up the call.
"Mother, wait. Ellen's here and we're cleaning the bakery. There's no way we'll be done by one o'clock."
"Well, guess I'll have to make it one thirty then. See you soon, sweetie." I was about to insist on a raincheck when my mother added, "Oh and Claire? Wear something nice. You're single now." And with that she did end the call.
"Good grief. That woman is a menace," I said to no one in particular. Ellen politely dusted the top of the cookie jar and acted like she hadn't heard a thing. "I don't suppose you want to have lunch at Maurice's?" I said to her.
"No, I suppose I don't. Although they do make a lovely cherry vinaigrette."
"So, I've heard."
While Ellen finished dusting and scrubbing the kitchen, I got to work on the front display cases. I wanted to give them a thorough cleaning before stocking them with baked goods. I washed out the cream pie case first before plugging it back in and allowing it to cool down.
My head was buried in the glass-faced unit with a sudsy dish rag in hand when I heard Ellen greet someone. I stilled a moment – could it be Nick? Could Ellen see him too?
But no, it was my sister. My heart sank.
"It's looking good," Autumn said a couple of minutes later, coming out front to the bakery's customer-facing portion. She was dressed in her deputy uniform. Her red hair pulled back in a neat bun, a gun clipped to her utility belt in addition to heaven knows what else. A gold star was embroidered on her shoulder, and a travel mug was in her hand.
"It's getting there." I motioned for Autumn to follow me back into the kitchen so I could rinse out my dishrag.
"Mom said you were getting ready to open back up," my sister said while filling her cup with coffee.
"Speaking of which, are you coming to lunch today?" I waited to turn on the water and gave my sister my full attention.
"I don't think that's going to happen, not after last night," Autumn said, taking a sip from her coffee. "Do you still have that cinnamon topping?" she asked, motioning to her coffee.
I did. I used it to top off my spiced pumpkin punch and gingerbread lattes. Just thinking about them had my mouthwatering for the festive brews. "Behind you, up in the cupboard." I waited for Autumn to elaborate on her night. When she didn't, I asked, "What happened last night?" I looked over to my sister, but she didn't say another word. She purposely avoided me, concentrating harder than necessary sprinkling cinnamon in her coffee.
"I hope not another break-in." Ellen looked worried.
"Break-in? I haven't heard about any break-ins," I exclaimed.
"Well, there's only been the one that I know of," Ellen replied.
"Who?" I asked.
"Mr. Franks' house. I'm surprised you hadn't heard, but then again, you haven't been out much." Ellen seemed to feel sorry for me. I was going to defend myself, but Ellen was right. I hadn't gone anywhere in months. Not if I could help it.
I then thought to this morning's encounter with Mr. Franks. That's probably why he seemed lost in his own world. He had much to occupy his thoughts.
"No, there wasn't another break-in, but I was called back out to his house," Autumn finally admitted.
"Did Melinda call?" Ellen asked.
Amber nodded and took another sip of coffee.
"The poor woman's had an awful time since her dad's passed away. Connie told me all about it at the diner," Ellen added.
"Mr. Franks is dead?" I squeaked out before clearing my throat. "I mean, I hadn't heard." I tried to keep my voice calm, but inside I was a total mess. If Mr. Franks'
was dead, that meant I had been chatting with his ghost this morning. So what, I could talk to dead people now? I couldn't wrap my head around it, and I started to feel panicked. It was one thing to see my husband's ghost, but quite another to see a customer's.
"It's been what, two weeks?" Ellen said to Autumn.
"Yeah, about that," Autumn replied.
"Oh," I said, but it came out more like a gasp.
"Are you okay? You don't look so good," my sister said.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I tried to dismiss her concerns away, but the look on both her and Ellen's faces told me they weren't buying it. I was going to have to try harder. "So, what were you saying about Melinda?" I asked.
"Any idea who broke in?" Ellen asked, at the same time.
"You know I don't discuss police business," Autumn replied. Ellen and I looked disappointed, but not surprised. Autumn was all business all the time. "But seeing the sheriff already released a statement..." she said a moment later, "I'll tell you there are no suspects and there wasn't any sign of forced entry."
"An inside job," Ellen remarked.
"Maybe," Autumn replied.
"And then last night?" I asked.
"Is Melinda okay?" Ellen asked when Autumn didn't reply.
"You can't leave us hanging. I'm sure you can tell us something," I said to Autumn.
"I can tell you what the sheriff log says. It's public record, after all," Autumn admitted.
"I forgot about that," Ellen remarked.
"Early this morning, Melinda called 911 saying she thought someone was watching her, but by the time we got there, whoever it was gone."