The clip of the fire had ended. The anchorman took over the report, giving a summary of the damages. Nadine hadn’t realized David meant so much to her…not until now. She grabbed up her uneaten lunch and tossed it in the garbage can. She couldn’t stay at work the rest of the day. She had to check on David. What would she tell her boss? Hurry, make up some good reason you have to leave, she thought as she watched the numbers on the elevator climb to the third floor.
The elevator door opened. It was time to test her ability to persuade. She went to the office door, hesitating a moment, then went in, not at all sure she could pull it off. She felt ill, her stomach hurt, she had a headache coming on—all of which was the truth. Her boss believed her. Soon she was on her way home.
She pushed the speed limit, weaving in and out of lanes in her haste to get to her apartment. If only she could slow her heart from pounding so hard—it felt as if it would burst right through her ribs. What would she see on the news when she tuned in to the local station? The memory of that dreadful Christmas Eve flashed through her mind, like an old movie repeating over and over. Would this be another day of tragedy?
She took the turn into the apartment parking lot with a hump up over the curb, but kept going to her parking spot without slowing down. She took the key from the ignition and hurried out of the car, racing to her front door.
When she got inside, she stripped off her coat, threw it over a chair, and rushed to the TV. The news cameras were right at the fire scene. Smoke rose high up over the destroyed houses, but it looked like the fire had been put out. Fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars swarmed the street. Firemen and policemen scurried around in every direction.
Nadine looked for anyone who looked like David, but she couldn’t tell with all the gear they wore. She knew he was there. She hoped he was all right and not one of those being carried off in an ambulance. She sat on the sofa, absorbing the scene until the station broke for commercials. It gave her pause to take a deep breath and try to calm herself.
When the report resumed, the anchorman began to list the victims of the tragedy. The reporter on the scene gave an unconfirmed accounting of a mother and child dead and two firemen injured, both taken to the hospital with severe burns. One of the firemen, he said, had tried to save the woman and her child, but had been overcome by the fire. They were waiting for an interview with the fire chief.
Nadine slid to the edge of her seat again, hands twisted anxiously in her lap, tears running steadily down her face. To her disappointment, they switched to other news. Chilled both by the cold and her fear, she hurried into the kitchen to fix herself a cup of hot tea. Her hand shook as she filled the teapot. To make matters worse, her head had begun to pound. She eyed a bottle of aspirin on the counter. Two—at least—with a tall glass of water might do the trick.
Her tea made, she took it to the sofa to continue watching the news. Nothing else came on about the fire, so she sat back to sip at her hot brew. How difficult it was to wait, not knowing. She wanted to call the TV station and shout, Put the news about the fire back on! Sure, they would just do what she wanted.
Instead, she sat watching every segment about the fire. Over the next few hours, updates came in from the chief of police, the fire department, and the mayor. No mention of names. Nadine kept watching, hoping to hear something that would reassure her David was all right. If she’d been a nail bitter, she’d have gone up to her knuckles by now.
When the phone rang, she jumped, almost falling off the sofa. She grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi, sweetie. I wasn’t sure if you’d be home yet or not, but thought I’d give it a try. I was going to just leave a message.”
“Oh, David, I’m so glad you called! I’ve been worried sick all day since I heard about the fire. Are you okay?”
He coughed before he could answer. “Sure, I’m all right. Just a little smoked out, like usual. We had a terrible time putting out that fire.”
“I’ve been watching on TV. They said it started from bad wiring.”
“I know, but they don’t want to report the truth. It looks to me like someone torched those houses. It’ll be kept under wraps because the police don’t want it to be known. We’ve had a real problem with gangs fighting one another. If it comes out this was done by gang members, it could incite more of those types to come to the area. It would only make for more trouble.”
“That is so awful. I can’t imagine. I’m so glad you’re okay. How long before you’re off again?”
“Because I inhaled so much smoke, they sent me to the hospital to get checked out by a doctor. They’ll probably put me on medical leave. I might have a few days or even a week off. So I’ll be out of here as soon as I see the doc. Are you anxious to see me? I hope so. Because I intend to stop by to see you as soon as I can. I’m glad to find you at home. I thought you’d still be at work.”
“I left early when I learned about the fire. I have to work tomorrow, but I’d like it if you came for dinner tonight. I’m a good cook. I’ll make a nice meal for you.”
“All right! What time?”
“How about six or six-thirty?”
“I’ll bring the wine. See you then, sweetie.”
She let out a long sigh as she hung up the phone. The extent of her relief made her stop and think. She’d met this man only a short time ago—a few days ago, to be exact, and she‘d been worried sick about him. Could she be falling in love? There was no doubt she had feelings for him. But what about Paul?
She looked over at the tree. Christmas Eve is coming, she thought. That dreadful night, the night her love had been taken from her. Could she ever get over it? She longed to know what Paul would want her to do now.
Rising up from the sofa, she glanced to the left. Again, she was sure she’d seen a shadow pass through the room. Was it Paul trying to let her know…what? She needed something more concrete. She needed to be sure of what she’d been seeing. Had it been a shadow, a spirit, or just her imagination?
Shrugging her shoulders, she made her way to the kitchen to fix something to eat. Her nerves were shattered, her stomach cried out with hunger pangs, and her headache had come back. Something light, she thought as she opened the refrigerator. The leftover pizza from the night before needed only a quick zap in the microwave. Good enough. It would go well with another cup of hot tea.
She sat at the table, eating her meager meal thinking about the day’s events, and David. Yes, she had feelings for him. Deep, passionate feelings. After all, he’d swept her off her feet. She smiled at the thought.
The decorated tree stood in the darkened corner of the living room. She glanced up at it, remembering how David had convinced her to buy it, then helped her dress it up so nicely. She rose from her chair to plug in the lights. The tree burst into a medley of color shining on the ornaments. She suddenly remembered a tree skirt her grandmother made for her. She went to look for it in the closet by the front door. She found it on the top shelf, wrapped up in Christmas paper.
She took it down and hurried back to place it under the tree. She spread it out on the floor, getting down on her knees to tuck it around the base of the tree. Something shiny lay on the floor under the lower branches. At first glance, she thought it was a piece from one of the ornaments, but when she touched it, its shape felt different.
A ring? She picked up the gold ring and held it in her hand. She rushed over to the sofa, turning on the lamp beside it. Maybe David dropped it? Where else could it have come from?
She held it up to the light. It’s just like the one I put on Paul’s finger at the church. On further inspection, she was shocked to read the inscription on the inside. To Paul with love. This was his ring, she had no doubt. She began to cry, sobbing like she never had before.
Suddenly she could hear his voice, a soft whisper in her ear. “If anything ever happens that I had to let you go, I’d have to give you this ring back.” His very words, the same ones he’d spoken on their wedding night. She turned h
er head to look, but no one was there. As she held the ring, she shivered with delight.
She clutched it to her chest until her tears were spent. She raised her head just in time to see the shadow slip out the window. This time she could see it, plain and clear. She no longer had any doubt.
“Oh, Paul, you sent me your ring…the sign I wished for. This means so much to me. It’s not only a sign from you approving my future, it is also closure. Now we can both go on. I love you, and always will. Merry Christmas, Paul.”
About the Author
After spending many years in the business world, Jennifer Robins took up the pen and started to write about what she found to be the most interesting subjects, the paranormal-supernatural. With her family grown, she finds time now to pursue a career in writing.
She attended Tri-C College for business and went on to be successful in the real estate business in her hometown, a small suburb of Cleveland.
She lives with her husband and her wonderful dogs and cats. Loves music, art, gardening and plays the piano, paints in oils and enjoys the company of her sons and daughters and the families they now have.
Every day brings a new idea, a new adventure in research and stories that take up her daily thoughts.
Also from Jennifer Robins
James Peterson had finished all his business and was about to leave town when he remembered a promise he’d made to lay flowers on a friend’s mother’s grave. Unable to make the trip to the gravesite due to severe arthritis, his buddy asked James to go for him. James, an older man himself, knew how important it was to honor a beloved relative. It was Halloween, and late, but he needed to fulfill his promise, so he went in the dark of night to the old cemetery. He wasn’t heard from again for several months, and when he did appear, he babbled incoherently about a ghost who held him prisoner and psychologically tortured him. His story took on some merit, as there had been past reports of a ghosts appearing in the old cemetery on Halloween. A reporter from the local newspaper jumped on the story, running a full front-page account of the man’s experience.
****
October 30, 2011
Three men dressed in orange caps and bright orange vests, rifles at their sides, made their way through the trees to the cabin they’d rented for the week. “We’ve been coming here every October for the past five years, and it never seems to change,” Brody told his hunting buddies, Nathan and Daniel.
“There’s a good chance of snow from what I heard on the weather report,” Daniel, the youngest of the trio, announced. Clouds had gathered overhead, blocking the late afternoon sun from making its way to the western horizon. The aspen trees lining the trail they followed held the golden glow of the season.
“Only two days left and no luck bagging a deer.” Nathan, the eldest of the three, gazed up at the Rocky Mountains, already covered at the top with snow. “This could be the first year we go home without any meat. We’ve covered every inch of land and haven’t come across a single deer.”
“Frustrating,” Brody agreed. Dressed in a plaid flannel shirt and cowboy boots, he sported a short, dark beard to match his full, wavy hair.
Nathan lagged behind a little until they spotted the cabin, and then he picked up the pace. A little overweight and shorter than the others, he still had a decent amount of energy for a man in his late fifties, and he made every effort to keep up. He huffed and puffed a little as he caught up to Brody. “Do you bums have to walk so fast? I have enough trouble on my feet without doing a marathon in the forest to keep up with the likes of you two.”
“Shush up,” Daniel said. Six feet tall and a bit on the slim side, he was a handsome fellow with blue eyes and soft blond hair. “We’re almost to the cabin, and then you can rest all you want. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow we’ll be back out here before sunrise ahead of other hunters. Maybe then we can get something.”
The three men piled into the cabin, exhausted and ready to unload their heavy equipment. Brody led the way into the kitchen where he flipped on the overhead light, pulled out a chair, and sat to remove his boots. “Man, my feet will never recover this time. These boots are too tight. They fit me okay last year; they must have shrunk.”
“No, I think you’ve gained weight since last year and your feet are now fat,” Nathan said.
“Don’t be stupid. Your feet can’t get fat.”
“Forget the feet and fat, let’s get something to eat.” Daniel took off his jacket and hung it on a hook next to the door. “I’m starved.”
“I’ll get the coffee started, and then we can think about food.” Brody rose from his chair and walked over to the sink while slipping out of his vest and cap. He set them on the counter and grabbed the coffeepot, holding it under the faucet to fill.
“Sounds good to me,” Nathan replied while stripping out of his gear. “I could go for a nice hot cup of coffee.” He took off his boots after he made sure his slippers were ready on the floor next to him.
The rich aroma of percolating coffee filled the cabin as the three men settled down at the table. Once their mugs were full to the brims, they immersed themselves in the pleasure of the steaming hot brew. “How about canned beans and hot dogs tonight?” Brody suggested.
“We still have some cold cuts, too,” Nathan said. “I like the boiled ham.”
“I’ll start with one of those Twinkies, or maybe some cookies.” Daniel opened the small refrigerator and looked inside. Supplies were getting slim now that they’d reached the last few days of their adventure. “Let’s see. There’s one more bag of potato chips, and we have a few cold sodas in here. I think we still have some apples, too. We’re in fair shape.”
“It won’t take long to get these beans heated up.” Brody went to the counter to open a can. “You guys can have whatever you want; this is what I’m eating.”
Soon all three sat down to a hot meal and wasted no time devouring it. With more coffee to wash it all down, they relaxed over conversation. “Anyone know exactly where this cemetery is? You know, there’s a story about a ghost coming out around this time of year.” Brody leaned his muscular body forward and placed his elbows on the table, cupping his hands in front of him. His sleeve slid up to reveal a tattoo of a heart and a red rose, a tribute to his sweet wife, Rose. “They say he only comes out on Halloween. Do you think it’s true?”
“I’m not sure.” Nathan picked up his cup and sipped while watching the expressions on his friends’ faces. “There have been those who say they’ve seen him on All Souls’ Eve. Are we looking to investigate?”
“Investigate what?” Daniel asked.
“The cemetery. It’s not far from here. As long as we’ve wasted our time trying to bag a buck with no luck, we may as well venture over there and take a peek. Tomorrow is Halloween, and we’ve got the place until the day after.”
“Don’t you think this is a little bizarre?” Daniel frowned. “I have better things to do than run around in a cemetery late at night, trying to scare myself.” He drank from his can of Pepsi and set it on the table. “I didn’t work so hard all these years in law school just to get freaked out about some ghost story.”
“Hey, did you forget about the guy who came here for a vacation and visited the cemetery to find some old tombstone?” Brody asked them. “Seems he went there on Halloween and has never been the same since. Rumor has it, he witnessed a ghost who came out of one of the monuments and scared him near to death. It’s also said he remains a babbling idiot to this day. God only knows if he’ll ever recover.”
“Yeah, my wife went crazy over that one. She still goes on about it to all her friends.” Nathan sat back, bringing his chair up on its back legs, and snickered. “She definitely believes the story.”
Daniel got up and walked over to the window. “From the sound of the wind out there, we could be getting some nasty weather. I’m not in favor of going out in a dark cemetery in the rain. If it’s bad out tomorrow night, you can count me out.”
“We haven’t even made up o
ur minds if we’re going to go yet, so keep your shirt on, son.” Nathan chuckled. “I’d kinda like to do a little graveyard tramping. It makes for variety in life. That is, if you youngsters aren’t afraid of the dark or worried about the spooks.” He broke out now with a more sinister laugh.
Daniel peered through the window as if to assess what the next day would be like. The fall wind whipped around the cabin, making a morbid sound of gloom and doom. Not one star or a sign of the moon lit the sky, now covered with dark and threatening clouds. “I’d still like to try to take some venison home for the holidays, if the weather holds out. This year’s trip here has been worthless so far.”
“How about a little poker before bed? Quarter bets,” Nathan coaxed. “Can’t do any hunting now, and besides, it looks like rain’s a-comin’. Or maybe even snow.”
“No thanks,” Brody said as he took his cup to the sink. “I’m going to hit the sack so we can get up early tomorrow. I brought along my laptop—I’m gonna search the archives of the Gazette for an article I remember reading, about the cemetery and the ghost. It’s worth checking up on so we can figure out what we wanna do tomorrow night. I, for one, would like to pay the old soul a visit and see for myself.” He made a wooing sound and held his hands up like claws.
Daniel laughed, but Nathan didn’t. “I wouldn’t be so sarcastic about this. I’ve heard about these things and it’s not funny.”
Brody shrugged. “Okay, we won’t make fun of it. But I still want to research the story, and we can go from there. So good night, you guys.”
He left the others as Nathan took out a deck of cards and began to shuffle it. In his room, a small nine-by-nine space at the end of the hallway, Brody sat on his bunk and took out his cell phone to call his wife. “Hi, Rose. I wanted to say good night and ask how the dogs were. Cindy wasn’t feeling too good when I talked to you last night.”
To Christmas with Love Page 5