The Ghost Who Stayed Home

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “So you finally decided to get up?” Heather asked Bella as she closed the newspaper and then tossed it on the sofa cushion next to her.

  Ignoring the greeting, Bella strode to the living room window and jumped up onto the windowsill. She stared outside, her tail still swishing back and forth. A moment later she let out a loud meow.

  “No, you can’t go outside.” Heather leaned forward, picked up her cup of tea from the coffee table, and took a sip. It had cooled and was now lukewarm. She leaned back on the sofa and uncrossed her legs. Propping her stockinged feet on the edge of the coffee table, her ankles crossed, she took another sip of the tea. From the window Bella let out a tortured cry; the intensity of her tail swishing back and forth increased.

  Looking at the cat, Heather frowned. “What’s your problem? Is Max out there teasing you?” Heather took another sip and Bella let out another cry, this one even louder and more demonic sounding than the last.

  Heather rolled her eyes. “You can be such a drama queen!”

  CHRIS STOOD in the flower planter outside of Heather’s living room window, his gaze momentarily locked with Bella’s. Glancing beyond the cat, he could see Heather sitting on her sofa, drinking what he assumed was her morning coffee.

  When he had arrived at Heather’s house a few minutes earlier, he had gone directly to the front door, something he would have done had he been dressed in his physical body. By habit, he had tried to ring the doorbell, only to have his finger and then hand disappear through the front wall of Heather’s house. He immediately felt foolish for even trying to ring the bell—he knew better—and then he had glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone had witnessed his foolishness. The moment he looked, he felt ridiculous all over again—No one can see me, he reminded himself with disgust. No one but Heather. At least, he assumed Heather could see him.

  Waving at the window, Chris tried to capture Heather’s attention. Bella pawed at the window. Instead of looking his way, Heather set her cup on the coffee table and picked up the newspaper sitting next to her on the couch. Leaning back, she opened the paper and started to read, never looking to the window in spite of the fact her cat was repeatedly batting the windowpane with her front paw.

  “I really did not want to have to do this,” Chris said in exasperation before stepping through the window and wall and walking into Heather’s house uninvited.

  BELLA LET out another primal screech and leapt from the windowsill. Heather looked up in time to see the cat race from the room and disappear down the hallway. Shaking her head, she tossed the newspaper back onto the sofa, pulled her feet off the coffee table, and stood up. After walking to the window, she looked outside. But she didn’t see anything unusual.

  “What’s your problem, Bella?” Heather mumbled under her breath as she turned from the window and headed for the kitchen. On her way there she halted abruptly, distracted by a flickering image of what appeared to be a man blocking her entrance into the kitchen. Blinking her eyes in confusion, she attempted to make out what she was seeing, yet it vanished before she could identify who or what it was. A chill traveled down her spine and she glanced over her shoulder. If she didn’t know better, she would swear someone was using some sort of projector to cast an image—yet projectors cast images on screens or walls, not in doorways.

  “Oh crap,” Heather groaned. “Don’t tell me some damn ghost is now lurking in my house? Can’t I get any peace?”

  “HEATHER? Heather?” Chris followed her as she angrily marched into the kitchen. Keeping by her side, he moved his hand in front of her eyes, only to have her walk through it. He didn’t think she was ignoring him—however, he was certain she had seen him a moment earlier.

  Frustrated, Chris watched as Heather opened an overhead cabinet and removed two small vials of essential oils and set them on the counter. She then took a diffuser from the cabinet, removed its lid, and walked to the sink.

  Standing behind Heather, Chris yelled her name just as she turned on the water. Pausing a moment, Heather glanced over her shoulder and frowned. Chris looked into her eyes, but he saw no recognition coming from her. Heather turned back to the sink and filled the diffuser with water.

  Taking a seat at the breakfast bar, he watched as she added several drops of oil from each vial to the water before placing the lid back on the diffuser.

  “This should get rid of any spirits,” Heather grumbled.

  Chris followed Heather into the living room and watched as she set the diffuser on an end table and plugged its cord into a nearby socket. A thin trail of steam began wafting up from the hole in the center of the diffuser’s lid.

  With a satisfied smile on her face, Heather sat back down on the sofa and picked up the newspaper.

  JOANNE HAD JUST PULLED up to Marlow House when Chris returned from Heather’s. He followed her inside, while she never knew she had company. Sadie greeted them both when they walked into the house, but Joanne failed to notice Sadie’s attention was not centered just on her. She made her way to the kitchen while Chris moved up to the attic. When coming down the street a few minutes earlier, he had spied Walt standing at the attic window, Max by his side.

  “She couldn’t see me,” Chris announced when he walked into the attic.

  Walt turned from the window to face Chris. “Are you sure?”

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure she saw me—but only for a moment—when I first arrived. She even mentioned something about a ghost being in the house. I tried to get her attention, and one time when I screamed, she looked my way, but I don’t think she understood what she was hearing.”

  “Interesting,” Walt murmured. “Although, I shouldn’t be surprised. Heather never saw me when she was staying here.”

  Chris took a seat on the sofa bed and looked up at Walt, who remained standing by the window. “Yes, but her gift has become stronger, she’s seen and spoken to a number of spirits, and even you said she’s become more aware of your presence—to the extent that you avoid being around when she comes over.”

  “True. But you’re not a spirit. At least, not yet.” Walt arched his brow and asked, “Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

  Chris leaned back on the sofa and crossed his right leg over his left knee. “I glanced in the hall mirror after I got back from Heather’s. I’m still there.”

  Walt took a seat on the end of the sofa. Max leapt down from the windowsill and joined them, taking a place on the center of the sofa between them.

  “What now?” Chris asked.

  “We still need Heather’s help. I wonder if she’d be able to see me?” Walt leaned back on the couch, staring off into blank space.

  “She saw glimpses of you before—and I think that’s what she saw when I was over there—a glimpse.”

  HEATHER OPENED her wallet as the man at the ticket counter asked, “What movie?”

  “Age of Adaline.” She slipped the money she had just pulled from her wallet through the slot in the window and waited for her ticket. Once she had it in her hand, she flashed the man a cool smile and headed for the door leading into the theater. Her first stop was the refreshment counter, where she waited in line behind several teenagers.

  “Hello, Heather,” came a woman’s voice from behind her. Heather turned and came face-to-face with Steve Klein’s widow, Beverly. Heather had been the one to find Steve’s body after it had washed up on shore, which was one reason Heather always felt awkward when she ran into Beverly around town. What does one say to a grieving widow when you are the one who found the body?

  “Hello, Beverly, how are you doing?”

  “I’m doing fine, thank you.” Beverly smiled brightly and then said in a serious tone, “It is a shame about your neighbors. I rather liked Danielle and Lily. Sweet girls.”

  “I haven’t given up hope on them,” Heather insisted.

  Beverly reached out and briefly patted Heather’s hand. “I hope they come back too, but someone did see their plane go down. How long can they really survive out ther
e in the wilderness? What has it been, a week already?” Beverly let out a sigh and added, “Oh my, I just realized this could mean you’ve lost three…no, four neighbors on your street. To think, tragedy striking that many homes on one street in Frederickport. A well-known author and that handsome young man…what was his name, Chris Johnson?”

  Heather started to say something and then remembered the vision she’d seen earlier; she froze. That image—that glimpse of a man—it was Chris!

  TWENTY-TWO

  Sissy sat on the pier with her husband, Bruce, as they watched their nephews go into the ice cream shop.

  Shaking her head wearily, Sissy said, “I still don’t understand why Evan broke into Marlow House.”

  “He’s just worried about his father. I don’t understand what he thought he was going to accomplish, but it must have something to do with the fact two of the other people who went with Ed lived at Marlow House. Maybe he thought we weren’t telling him the truth and that there would be someone at Marlow House that could tell him something,” Bruce suggested.

  Sissy shrugged. “I suppose. Makes more sense than anything I’ve been able to come up with.”

  Bruce let out a sigh and then said, “I hate to bring this up now, but we need to think about what we’re going to do about the boys.”

  Sissy looked at her husband and frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “If your brother—god forbid—doesn’t come home, we need to figure out what we’re going to do with them.”

  “What do you mean what we’re going to do with them? They will stay with us, of course!”

  Bruce shook his head. “Sissy, raising two boys is a tremendous responsibility. When we got married, we agreed we weren’t going to have children. And it’s not like the boys are orphans.”

  “What are you talking about?” She gasped. “A person is considered an orphan after losing just one parent—so tell me exactly how they wouldn’t be orphans if they lost both parents?”

  “Okay—I phrased that wrong.”

  “No kidding,” she scoffed.

  “I meant it’s not like they don’t have anyone. They have their grandparents in Portland. I’m sure they would love to have the boys.”

  “You think it would be better for my nephews to be forced to leave the only home they’ve ever lived in and move to Portland?”

  “You certainly didn’t imagine we would move into your brother’s house.”

  “Of course not. But I meant forcing them to leave their hometown, their school, all their friends. You honestly believe that would be the better option?”

  “It would be better for us,” Bruce grumbled under his breath.

  “I can’t believe this! I thought you loved those boys!”

  Bruce let out a frustrated sigh and turned to his wife. “I do love them. They’re great kids. But I just don’t want to step into their father’s shoes. I’d rather stay the fun uncle. If I wanted to have kids that I had to worry about raising, I would have had my own. I didn’t sign up for that, Sissy. And neither did you.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re saying that!”

  “It’s not just that I don’t want the responsibility, but, Sissy…and I don’t mean to hurt your feelings…but the way you hover over those boys.”

  “You blame me for that? I may have lost my brother and now—”

  “It’s just that I’ve seen what happens to kids when their parents become overly—protective—controlling. I know you love them, and you’ll still be in their lives, but I sincerely believe their mother’s parents might be the best place for them. As I recall, they’re not elderly and they raised a couple sons along with their daughter, and all their kids turned out great.”

  “But I can do this, Bruce! I know what you mean about how I can sometimes be controlling, but I can work on that!”

  Sitting on the bench next to his wife, Bruce draped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Hey, let’s not give up hope. It’s always possible Ed will come home. But the boys are coming out of the ice cream shop, and you can’t let them see you crying.”

  Wiping the corner of her eyes with the tip of her finger, Sissy looked to the ice cream shop. Eddy and Evan had just stepped out the door, each carrying a chocolate ice cream cone. They both started walking toward them when Evan apparently spied something to his right and took off in a run, stopping some ten feet away from where he had left his brother. Eddy ignored Evan’s departure and continued walking toward his aunt and uncle.

  “What is he doing?” Sissy watched as her youngest nephew stood by the railing, excitedly talking to—a bird?

  “Is he talking to a seagull?” Bruce asked when he looked over at Evan.

  CHRIS NEEDED to get out of Marlow House and think about what they should do next. He never imagined he would be running into Evan on the pier or that the young boy would be able to see him.

  “Where’s my dad!” Evan asked excitedly, unable to contain himself or the ice cream now dripping down his cone. “If you’re back, that must mean he is too!”

  Chris glanced down the pier and spied Evan’s aunt and uncle sitting on a bench out of earshot—yet they were staring in his direction. He was fairly confident they couldn’t see him, yet he imagined they were wondering who Evan was talking to.

  “Evan, I don’t want to scare you, but I’m not dead, I’m pretty sure your father is fine, but you are the only one who can see me. So please stop talking and start licking your ice cream before it melts all over the pier. Your aunt and uncle are staring, and I need to talk to you before they come over here,” Chris ordered.

  Evan frowned, but immediately started licking his ice cream cone, quickly cleaning up the melting mess. Before he had a chance to ask Chris any questions, they were joined by Eddy.

  “Why are you talking to a bird?” Eddy asked. “You look dumb.”

  Evan glanced from Chris to Eddy. “Do you see him?”

  “Well, duh, it’s sitting right there.”

  “He’s not sitting,” Evan told his brother.

  “Stop being weird. Aunt Sissy wants you to come over to where they are.”

  Evan looked up at Chris.

  “Go with your brother. I’ll tag along. I’ll explain what’s going on.”

  Evan silently nodded and then licked his cone. Eddy scowled at his brother and nudged him sharply with his elbow. “I said stop being weird!”

  Instead of lashing out at his older brother for gouging him with an elbow, he silently trailed behind Eddy as they walked to their aunt and uncle. Next to Evan was Chris.

  “I’m not sure how to explain this to you, Evan, but wherever my body is, I am very sick. But I’m not dead.”

  Evan picked up his step and glanced over at Eddy, whose attention was focused on his dwindling ice cream cone, and he paid no attention to Chris.

  “What you see here isn’t much different from what you see when you talk to Walt. The only difference, I hope I’m able to get back into my body before I die.”

  “Where’s my dad?”

  Eddy stopped walking and glared at his brother. “You sound like a baby when you ask me lame questions like that. You know I know as much as you do.”

  “You better not ask me any questions,” Chris told him. “But Walt and I need your help.”

  “Evan, you have ice cream all over your shirt!” Sissy said when Evan got within arm’s length of her. She reached out and pulled him to her and began wiping down his shirt with a tissue she had fished out of her purse. Evan remained silent, listening to Chris while allowing his aunt to hastily mop up the front of his shirt.

  “I’m going to ask you some questions Evan. If the answer is yes, wiggle your nose.” Chris paused a moment, studied Evan, and then asked, “Can you wiggle your nose?”

  Evan smiled and wiggled his nose.

  “Do you need a tissue, honey?” Sissy asked. She handed the dirty tissue to her husband, who reluctantly accepted it yet not before frowning down at the sticky w
ad of paper. Sissy then pulled a clean tissue from her purse and handed it to Evan. He silently accepted it and then stepped several feet away from the bench, staring out at the ocean, his back to his aunt, uncle, and brother.

  “Do you know who Heather Donovan is?” Chris asked.

  Evan glanced up to Chris but did not wrinkle his nose. Behind him he could hear his uncle talking to Eddy while his aunt occasionally chimed in. Ignoring what they were saying, he focused his attention on Chris.

  “I will take that to mean no. Heather Donovan lives near Marlow House. She’s about Danielle’s age and has black hair she always wears in braids, sometimes ponytails. She has a calico cat named Bella—”

  Before Chris could start the next sentence, Evan began wiggling his nose furiously.

  Chris chuckled and said, “I take that to mean you know who she is.”

  Evan smiled and wiggled his nose, this time not as exuberantly.

  “Heather is like Danielle, you, and me. She—”

  Before Chris could finish the sentence, Evan started wiggling his nose again.

  “You know about Heather’s gift?”

  Without thought, Evan nodded.

  “Here’s the thing, Evan, we need Heather to help us bring your dad and the others home. We need her to go over to Marlow House so she can talk to Walt. He can explain to her what we need. But the problem, Walt can’t leave Marlow House, and it seems Heather’s gift doesn’t extend to seeing…well…whatever I am.”

  With his ice cream all gone, Evan bit down on the crunchy cone.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Taking another bite from the cone, Evan glanced up at Chris and wiggled his nose again.

  “I tried talking to Heather myself just this morning. I’m sure she saw me. She was just walking into the kitchen, and I pretty much jumped in front of her. But then, she couldn’t see me anymore. I tried yelling at her, and she looked in my direction, but I got the feeling she didn’t understand. Before I left her, she mumbled something about seeing ghosts, but I don’t think she understood I was there.”