Ghosts of Christmas (Steamy Bwwm Holiday Romance)

by Kenya Wright

  This year was supposed to be different. I spent enough money on therapy to see more change.

  I rubbed my forehead.

  I’d sought therapy for many years. Nothing helped. One therapist hypnotized me. Another put me on several pills. I took them for many years, developing adverse effects—vomiting, weight gain, diarrhea, and insomnia.

  I gave up on that and turned to marijuana and alcohol. That caused me to get behind with my designs. Plus it didn’t help that I was showing up to work, smelling like weed and liquor. One seamstress quit and put a complaint about my drunkenness in her resignation letter.

  Due to that, I returned to the pills.

  Last Christmas, Holly, her fiancé Nikolas, and her brother Saint, took me down to an Ayahuasca Retreat in Peru.

  Ayahuasca was a psychoactive brew made from the leaves of a special shrub from the Amazon Rainforest. Amazonian tribes used the drink for spiritual and religious purposes. Traditionally, a shaman prepared it. DMT was a major component of the drink. The brew was supposed to be powerfully therapeutic. Scientific research proved how Ayahuasca could help many people overcome severe depression, addiction, chronic grief and loss, and other problems. I had to admit that I was pretty excited for it to help.

  Once a person drank it, the brew affected their central nervous system, leading to an altered state of consciousness. Many reported hallucinations, out-of-body experiences, and euphoria.

  Holly and Nikolas took it. During his Ayahuasca trip, he realized that she was the only person he would ever love. She’d come to the same conclusion from her experience. The next day, Nikolas proposed.

  Saint never confessed what enlightenment he’d found. Instead, he remained quiet and continued to ask me how I was.

  Dear Saint. Always my protector.

  My experience was nowhere as pleasant as theirs. However, I lied and told them all some bullshit about how I was now motivated to make profound changes dealing with health and happiness. Holly and Nikolas were overjoyed. Saint didn’t buy the act, but he left me alone.

  I couldn’t depress them after they were trying to help me as usual.

  The truth was that when I took the drink, I descended into distress and was lost in a vortex of zombie-like figures. My mother was there in the distance with a rope hanging around her neck and all these bags dangling from the rope. She kept screaming for me to come to her as all the zombies chased me.

  And it lasted for hours. Never again would I try something like that.

  Weeks later, I battled near-constant anxiety, panic attacks, and insomnia. When I sought a therapist, she explained that while Ayahuasca helped so many, it traumatized a small percentage. For the people that dealt with post-traumatic stress disorder like me, the brew generated extremely strong and fragmenting experiences. I spun into panicky thoughts. Due to that, I went to my usual defensive mechanism, I withdrew, went mute, and numb.

  The therapist helped me get rid of the new panic attacks and taught me meditation. That helped me get off my pills. Last month, I’d finally thrown away all my medications and prescriptions.

  I thought I was getting better.

  Now I’ll have to get back on them. There’s no way I’m going to deal with these damn nightmares this year.

  A prickling sensation crept down my spine—the tell-tale sign that someone was watching me. I scanned the plane. All the other passengers had their eyes closed. Most of their faces were turned away from me.

  I let out a long breath.

  The stewardess brought over my drink.

  “Thank you.” I took the drink, sipped it, and pulled out my book that analyzed future trends in fabrics, colors, and shapes.

  After an hour of perusing fabric predictions and my second drink, I closed my eyes.

  A woman whispered in my ear. “Ivy.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Ivy, open your eyes.”

  Park?

  Yawning, I opened my eyes. The whole plane was dark. Everyone was asleep. I thought Park had called me, but she was still out. Her head leaned to the side. Her mouth was open.

  The voice came in the opposite direction. “Ivy, come on, sweetie. We have a lot to talk about.”

  I looked to the aisle and froze.

  There my mother stood.

  No. No.

  She was illuminated and somewhat see-through. A glowing gold rope wrapped around her neck and fell past her shoulders and all the way to the ground. Tons of luggage and pocketbooks dangled from the long rope and filled the aisle.

  “Ivy.” She gestured for me to get up. “Come on. I know this is odd, but we don’t have time for this. You don’t let yourself sleep much. And it was a bitch getting here.”

  I stared at her.

  “Sweetie, get up.”

  My ghostly mother crossed her arms. “Ivy, you’re wasting time.”

  A stewardess strolled down the aisle, walking through my mother and all her luggage and purses on the rope.

  Horror seized me. All I could do was gape at her.

  My mother leaned her head to the side. “Are you really going to make me come and get you?”

  “Wake up, Ivy.” I hit my chest. “Wake up.”

  “Yes, sweetie. I know Dr. Sanders told you to hit yourself to wake up, but this really isn’t a dream. I’ve awakened your spirit.”

  “Come on, Ivy.” I hit myself harder but felt nothing. “Wake up.”

  “Ivy Nicole Smith.”

  I snapped back to her.

  “Get out of that seat and come on.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Now!”

  “O-kay.” I tried to unbuckle my seatbelt, but my hand went through not only that but my stomach. “What the hell?”

  She frowned. “I would be careful with saying hell and heaven while in spirit form. You may attract some things. A few curse words are okay. Bitch for example. But the f-word isn’t a nice one. Demons like it when you use the f-word in spirit form.”

  I stood or rather. . .my spirit did. The illuminated version of me rose out of my physical body. I turned around and studied the physical part of me. There, I lay in the seat, snoring. My head leaned against the window.

  “Come on, sweetie.”

  I looked back at my mother.

  Another stewardess walked through her.

  “Ivy.”

  “Why is this dream so weird?”

  “It’s not a dream, honey.”

  “O-kay.” I headed to her. “Then, why are you here? What is this?”

  “I’ve been trying to talk to you for years, but all those drugs and drinking didn’t allow for it. Then the pills. At least that stuff you drank in the Amazon cleared away a good bit of the fog.” She shook her head and hurried off. “Let’s go.”

  “Go?” I followed her, walking through a sleeping Park and the chair. “Where are we going?”

  “We need to leave the plane. It’ll only distract you.”

  “Leave the plane? I can’t.”

  She stopped, turned around, and grabbed my hand. Warmth came from her illuminating touch. Tears stung my eyes. How long had I imagined feeling the hold of my mother’s hand? How much had I yearned to feel her hug again?

  She smiled. “Trust me, Ivy.”

  My throat went sore. “Mommy?”

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 2

  We Three Kings

  Holding hands with my dead mother, I walked off the plane. That was the only way I could describe it. We went to the exit where people usually entered and left. But this time the door was closed, and the plane was high in the air. In the next moment, we walked through the door and floated over a dark expanse of royal blue clouds swimming in a dark, glittering sky.

  The plane flew off without us, going in the other direction.

  Gasping, I watched it leave.

  “Ivy.”

  I turned to her.

  Mom still held my hand as we hovered over the Earth. Her haunting glow faded in and out. The rope around her neck was more than jewelry
. It was like it was now part of her body. And it was so long. Now off the plane, the rope fell down and must’ve been thirty or so feet. With a closer view, I counted over twenty suitcases and handbags dangling from the rope.

  I looked down but couldn’t make out anything but the ocean. Even the rope of suitcases didn’t touch it. “Holy—”

  “No, sweetie.” Mom raised her free hand. “Don’t go there. I’m not even sure if it’s okay for me to do this, so let’s not bring anything around us.”

  “Like what?”

  “Other spirits, angels, demons, or even worse.”

  “What is worse?”

  “We have more to talk about than that.” She placed her hand in front and snapped. The sound echoed around us. Several clouds lined up and then formed into a long line of stairs. “There we go. It’s so dark here. Let’s get closer to the moon.”

  I looked that way. The moon was a bright lamp in the tangled darkness of the sky.

  Guiding me forward, she went to the first step.

  I tapped my foot along the cloud unsure of its ability to hold me. I stepped on. The cloud held my spiritual weight. Mom let go of my hand, climbed the steps, and yanked at her rope. It kept dragging along.

  At my side, she spoke. “I’m so glad you’re off those pills. They fogged your mind and clogged your spirit. It was impossible to communicate with you.”

  I moved out of the luggage’s path.

  “Every time I came to you, it just brought nightmares that I couldn’t stop.” Mom lugged those bags with her. “So I tried to stay away, but this time of year always brings my spirit to your father and you. I can’t help it. We’re all united during Christmas.”

  I was stunned by everything—the moment, setting, and all her confessions. “Why. . .are we united?”

  “Probably because of my selfishness.”

  “Selfishness?”

  She stopped climbing and turned to me. “Your father decided to leave due to the baby.”

  I swallowed. “The one he had with the woman he cheated on you with.”

  “It’s odd talking to you about this now, even though you’re a grown woman. You’re close to thirty and still struggling with this. I thought you would get over it one day.”

  I shook my head. “Get over it?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I inched away from her. “I don’t like this dream.”

  “I killed myself because I thought that no one loved me anymore. I swore that I was all alone. After hearing about the pregnancy, I drank myself to sleep and smoked my lungs until they burned. That wasn’t enough, and I felt even more alone. And the whole time you were there, loving me.”

  I looked at her. My heart went heavy. My stomach twisted.

  “Ivy, what’s wrong?”

  Trembling, I turned around. “I don’t know what this dream is but I don’t like it. I want to wake up. Just let me—”

  “You can’t. Not until we’re done.”

  I faced her. “Done with what? You’re not real.”

  “What is real, sweetheart?”

  I held my mouth open.

  “We’re done when I give you my message.”

  Now it was my turn to cross my arms over my chest. “What message?”

  “I won’t let you make the same mistake I did.”

  “I’m not going to kill myself.”

  “For now, but if you continue on this path. . .you will.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I can see where you’re going. Death is your future. Suicide, even.”

  My voice rose in the clouds. “I’m doing fine!”

  “Oh really?”

  “I am a successful designer—”

  “Yes. Yes. But where is the love in your life?”

  “I love Holly and—”

  “Penis, Ivy.”

  I held out my hands. “Excuse me?”

  “Where’s the penis?”

  “I have tons of that, Mommy.” I raised my hands in the air. “What kind of dream is this?”

  “You have people you mess around with, but there is no love. And I understand why you do it, sweetheart. It’s because of me.”

  “It’s not completely because of you.”

  “I believe I’m supposed to fix that in order to leave this. . .” She gestured around us. “This state that I’m in.”

  “State?”

  “I’ve been in some sort of limbo all these years. I’ve watched all of you live, but never have I gone to my peace.”

  Sadness hit me. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No. There are other spirits walking around like me. We party. I’ve even had a few lovers. Spiritual sex isn’t that bad. The orgasms are much more intense and it’s kind of fun to see all of our parts light up—”

  “Uh. . .”

  “Anyway, years ago I realized that I had to fix you. That is what’s keeping me here.”

  “Fix me how?”

  “I need to show you the beauty of love. This sex with no strings attached life will never be a substitute to truly living.”

  “So, this dream is about love?” I laughed.

  “Grief and guilt are intense emotions that develop into serious illnesses. Cancer and—”

  “Cancer?”

  She frowned. “And there would be a disease of the brain, heart, and soul. Pain will eat at you if you let it. That’s why I’ve come to fix you.”

  “Oh my—”

  “Don’t say it!” She held her hand up. “Be careful with your words. They hold great power.”

  “Okay, but this is weird. What do you mean you’re going to show me love and fix me?”

  “I’m sending three of my lovers to you.”

  I tilted my head to the side. “Say what now?”

  “They all have special powers. Each ghost will come to you one at a time.”

  “Please do not send any creepy ex-lover spirits my way. I just got rid of my anxiety—”

  “They’re coming and you can’t stop it.” Part of her rope rose above her head. “You need this, Ivy. We all need this.”

  “Three creepy ghosts? I don’t.”

  “You do. Loving a person is the most beautiful thing a person can do—the most precious and vulnerable part of life.”

  “Love is hurt and pain.”

  Her spirit darkened. “It’s not always that way, sweetheart.”

  Something shook me. I stumbled to the side of the cloud.

  “Oh, dear.”

  “What was that?”

  Mom frowned. “It’s time for us to end. Someone is waking you up. I’ll try to talk to you later. Until then, be patient with my old lovers.”

  “The creepy ghosts?”

  “They’re good spirits and are doing a huge favor for me.”

  “Wait. Don’t send them to me!”

  Someone shook me again.

  I fell off the cloud and fell down into darkness. Flapping my arms and legs, I screamed, “No!”

  I woke up, opening my eyes. “Mommy!”

  Park watched me. “Are you okay?”

  Trembling, I scanned the space. The plane greeted my eyes. I checked the window. We’d landed.

  Other passengers rose and gathered their suitcases. A few looked my way with concern on their faces.

  I cleared my throat. “I. . .had a weird dream.”

  “About your mother?”

  I snapped my view to her. “Y-yes.”

  “What was it about?”

  Shaking my head, I took off my seat belt and rose. “What is up with everyone wanting to know about my dreams?”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “No.” I waved her comment away. “I’m just being an asshole. That wasn’t fair.”

  “It’s just that you were screaming for your mother over and over.”

  Embarrassed, I hurried with undoing my seatbelt. “Yeah. That’s my thing. Just ignore it.”

  Park rose from her seat. “Your phone has also been ringing since we landed.”

  “
What? I thought I shut it off.” I took my phone out of my pocketbook and checked the texts. A few came from my father.

  Bastard.

  I ignored his texts and checked the messages from Holly.

  Holly: The Wicked Witch of the West is here and keeping me busy. I will have to send Saint to get you.

  Saint is picking me up.

  My body calmed. All the nervousness left.

  I typed a message back.

  Me: Sounds good. We just arrived in Helsinki. We’re about to jump on the next plane to go to Lapland.

  Holly: Have a safe trip!

  Me: When I get there, I’ll rescue you from that bitch.

  My phone vibrated, letting me know she had replied. I checked the screen.

  Holly: We can’t call her that. She will be my mother-in-law soon.

  Me: Let’s hope she’ll stop acting like a bitch. When she does, I’ll stop calling her that.

  Holly: LOL! That’s fair. I can’t wait to see you.

  Me: Me too.

  Park and I headed off.

  With each step, I pushed that crazy dream out of my head.

  My mother glowing with a rope? Spirits of ex-lovers? A staircase of clouds? What the fuck?

  At least it wasn’t a nightmare. I’ll take dreams like that over the other ones. I pushed the dream out of my head.

  New anxiety came.

  Saint is picking us up. I thought I would have time to prepare myself. I need time before I see him.

  Surely, Holly did that intentionally. She’s always wanted her brother and me to be together. In the past, Saint and I had steamy moments, but nothing ever came of those times. They were just moments. Nothing else.

  Saint was too important for me to take it further. I needed him in my life forever. While lovers came and went, close friends remained through the years.

  It’ll be fine. Seeing him first. . .won’t be a problem at all.

  I grabbed my new coat, put it on, and pulled out my bags.

  Park eyed my coat. “Loving that.”

  “Just because we’ll be cold doesn’t mean we have to look bad.”

  “I’ll take note.”

  I laughed.

  Park and I left the plane and headed to our connecting flight.

  Chapter 3

  You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch