Spirits of the Season: Eight Haunting Holiday Romances

by Amanda DeWees

  Chapter 16

  Hannah was determined that Mona should cross over tonight, but for the past fifteen minutes she’d ignored their summons. “We can’t do this without her here.”

  “Then kiss me.”

  “Oh.” He was right. Kissing him the way she wanted to would definitely bring Mona running. She looked around the living room and prayed that Mona would cooperate. If she didn’t, this was going to get messy.

  “Stop fidgeting. You can do this.” Jackson grabbed her waist and pulled her right into the warmest embrace she’d ever felt. She wanted to free him so badly that a tear slipped out before she even had time to realize how emotional she was. Emotions could ruin their plans. She had to compose herself.

  With a finger under her chin, he urged her to look up. He kissed away the tear and moved his warm lips down to hers. His fingers tangled in her hair and his tongue explored her mouth. Hannah gasped for breath, not because some spirit had come to take her over, but because her own body hummed with a need to take over his.

  So lost she was in his kiss that she missed the first signs of Mona’s arrival. Hannah barely registered the creaking of the house, but the wail of a jealous spirit galvanized her into action.

  “Show yourself, Mona Black,” she called.

  Nothing. The house stilled.

  “Come forth, Mona. Black Widow!”

  The response came swiftly. Hannah cried out at the pain that slashed across her cheek. She could feel blood begin to drip from the wound. Jackson tried to pull her to him, but she waved him off. “It’s superficial. The bulk of her power didn’t break through the circle.”

  The mistletoe and bells around the room began to shake, creating an eerie chorus that crawled up Hannah’s spine and made her shiver. “Mona, you have become very powerful, but you are dead. You cannot stay with the living anymore. I could send you away, but you would be unhappy. I don’t want that.”

  “I do,” Jackson mumbled.

  Still, Mona would not come forth into view. What would Nellie do?

  “Mona, I will give you one more chance to show yourself. If you don’t, I’m going to call your husband. Seth Black. Do you understand me?”

  The bells quieted.

  Every light in the room winked out and came slowly back to life. In the corner of the room where Mr. Darcy liked to stand each night, Mona Black slowly materialized into an opaque but detailed image of her former body.

  Hannah felt Jackson recoiling from the image. She put her hand out to stop him. “She won’t hurt you. But she will need you. She thinks of you as her protector. I think she’ll listen to you.”

  “She didn’t listen to me when I asked nicely for her to stop sending me love letters stuffed with her hair.”

  Hannah took a deep breath to purge her frustration and re-center her positive emotions. “Mona, by blood this home is mine, not yours. It is time for you to heed my words and move on to your afterlife.”

  Mona’s spirit melted into a black pool of smoke that moved like water across the floor. As it arrived at the edge of the circle, it lifted up and reformed into a nearly perfect image of her corporeal body. Nellie Pearl would be impressed. It took a lot of energy for a spirit to appear wholly material again.

  Jackson spoke this time. “Move on, Mona.” Complete determination rang in every syllable.

  Shrill laughter filled the room before Mona dematerialized into the black smoke again. It swirled around Hannah and Jackson at the very edge of the spirit circle. Round and round. Faster with each rotation, until the black smoke became a swirling cyclone with them in the vortex.

  Crying and laughter blended together in a sound unlike anything Hannah had ever heard.

  “What is she doing?”

  Hannah could only look at him and shrug. “I don’t know. Testing–”

  A sound pierced through the cyclone, like a hundred railcars screeching to a halt. As Hannah clapped her hands over her ears, cold pressure flicked into the circle and yanked Jackson out of it.

  His body flew past Hannah and fell across the coffee table like a rag doll.

  “Jackson!” Hannah couldn’t hide the panic in her voice. Her body shook with nervous energy, afraid that she’d made a horrible mistake. She’d misjudged Mona’s strength.

  Mona and her smoky cyclone had vaporized, but Hannah knew she was still in the room.

  Looking at Jackson’s still body, Hannah knew she’d be unable to rebuild her positive energy. If she stepped out of the circle now, she’d have little to protect herself with. But she couldn’t really do anything from within the circle either.

  Hannah stepped purposely from the spirit circle and knelt over Jackson. “Are you okay?”

  Groaning the whole time, he rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up slowly. “Can I get a stunt double for the next scene, please?” He gave her a weak smile and pulled her in for a hug and quick kiss before whispering in her ear. “You’re out of the circle. Please tell me you have a Plan B.”

  Hannah tried to answer him, but Mona’s spirit was already wrapping around her like a blanket. Hannah could see Jackson trying to grab her, but Mona whirled her away from him.

  A sizzling sensation crawled across every inch of Hannah’s body, heating up her skin like she was cooking in an oven. She had to keep Mona out. Once a spirit took over, it gobbled up the host spirit until an empty body remained. Hannah was not ready to become a coma patient.

  A ghost for a ghost. Nellie’s voice was a welcome reminder.

  “Jackson!” Sweat beaded on her forehead from the effort she spent on keeping Mona out. It felt like the moisture was boiling on her skin. “Hold the spirit stick and call out for Mona’s husband. Don’t stop calling him until he shows up.”

  Hannah fell to her knees, choking on the suffocating pressure pounding on her from all sides.

  She could hear Jackson calling out for Seth Black. With each mention of the man’s name, the pressure against her weakened until Mona had once more become a weeping black puddle on the floor.

  Freed, Hannah crawled over to Jackson and coughed until her lungs felt clear again. He helped her stand and she leaned into his arms for a moment. Adding her hand to the spirit stick, she calmed her emotions once more. She visualized a bright door in the corner of the room beside Mona’s puddle. According to her grandmother’s journal, Hannah could help Seth return by visualizing a doorway for him.

  The success of Plan B hinged on whether Seth Black had committed suicide and was not murdered by Mona. Hannah had put her faith in the idea that Mona had truly lost everything when he died, and that all of the obsessions spiraled from her broken heart. But was this ghostly reunion enough to convince Mona to cross over?

  As they called for Seth one last time, white light grew around the conjured door until it fanned around it like a halo. The door opened and a man stepped through. Slowly, he knelt down in front of the dark puddle and reached a hand toward it.

  The ghostly smoke lifted up and reformed into the pretty woman Mona had once been. As she gazed in wonder, the man cupped her face, lifted her up and drew her into his arms.

  Curious, Hannah looked up at Jackson and gasped at his tear-streaked face. “You can see them?”

  He nodded and placed a quick kiss on her forehead, never taking his eyes off the illuminated pair.

  “It’s time, Mona.” Hannah marveled at the change in Mona’s appearance. Her ghostly form shimmered with silver light. Happiness. Hannah could feel it from here. “Seth is here to guide you into the light.”

  “Don’t be scared, Mona.” Jackson’s voice whispered toward them, his voice hoarse as if he’d been crying. “Be well.”

  Seth’s ghost began to draw Mona through the door but she shook her head and held back.

  Every muscle in Hannah’s body tensed.

  Mona turned toward Jackson, but with a new peaceful expression on her face. She blew him a kiss and mouthed one word. Sorry.

  When Seth and Mona disappeared into the white light,
the door closed behind them and faded from the room.

  Hannah stood for a moment in thankful silence. The moment was bittersweet. She’d done what she’d set out to do – she’d freed Jackson from his ghostly curse. However, she couldn’t hide the truth from herself anymore. She wanted to be his next woman. But with the threat of Mona gone, maybe he would go back to Becky.

  All Hannah could do was look into his blue eyes and try to keep her damn lip from trembling. She was from a long line of strong women, and she wiped the tears from her eyes before she embarrassed herself.

  “Hannah, don’t look at me like that. I’m not going anywhere.” Jackson cupped his fingers under her chin and urged her lips up toward his.

  She tasted everything in his kiss—freedom, passion, and a promise. A promise that she wasn’t alone anymore. “With Mona gone now, I wondered if you’d go back to Becky.”

  He whispered, his voice thick and raspy. “There’s no choice to make. I want to be with the woman who didn’t give up – the woman who fought for me.”

  Hannah threw her arms around his neck and savored a long, slow kiss without fear of ghostly interruption.

  Only the giggles of a young boy could break into the spell and pull Hannah away from Jackson’s lips. The small wispy form of Tom Sawyer grinned at her from the balcony above. Tiny bells jingled from the bundle of mistletoe he held in his hand.

  “Did I hear bells?” Jackson’s brows bent in a frown.

  Hannah just smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

  Epilogue

  A twenty-degree drop in temperature overnight seemed fitting for such a festive day, and Hannah cuddled deeper against Jackson’s warm body under the blanket. From the patio lounger, they watched the sunrise together. Vivid strokes of orange and purple splashed across the canvas of the sky. It was the most perfect Christmas morning Hannah could ever remember.

  “I have a gift for you.” Jackson’s grin grew wide enough to reveal nearly all of his teeth.

  “What?” Hannah sat up and stared at him. She was shocked, but a little shiver of child-like excitement fluttered through her.

  “I do, really. Hang on.” He disappeared into the house and came back out a few moments later with an envelope. “This is for you.”

  He reclaimed his seat and tucked the blanket around them again.

  Hannah recognized The Beachcomber logo in the corner. She’d expected to see the drawing of the house inside, but it wasn’t that at all. “What’s this?”

  “Read it.” The dimple was back.

  It looked like a print-out of an email confirmation. A big blue airline logo headlined on the page. The rest of the information revealed two seats on a flight to New York City, leaving tomorrow.

  “Jackson.” She couldn’t make her throat work to say anything more.

  He kissed her again – and not one kiss had ended quickly since Mona’s departure. “You deserve a proper vacation, Hannah.”

  “But I have guests checking in–”

  “Not until the first week in January. I checked your log when I was using your computer.”

  “We’re going to New York?” Hannah’s eyes stared him down, daring him to declare it all a joke. But he simply nodded. “I’m going to New York!”

  The front doorbell chimed and Hannah put her excitement on pause.

  When she opened the door, she wasn’t sure what to think at first. Wandering Willie stood on her porch, nervously pacing back and forth. She caught herself glancing at the gumball machine to see if it was broken. It wasn’t. “Hi, Willie.”

  “Miss Hannah, ma’am.” With shaking hands, he waved toward the street. “I—I wanted to thank you for your kindness. Merry Christmas.”

  Without another word, he ran off the porch and disappeared.

  Hannah, with Jackson close behind, walked across her small parking lot and looked around, but she couldn’t figure out what Willie had pointed at.

  “There.” Jackson’s shocked expression was turned toward her sign.

  Only, it wasn’t her old sign. It was her new one.

  Willie had taken an old piece of cedar driftwood and carved the name of her Inn with beautiful lettering. The Beachcomber Bed & Breakfast Inn. How had his shaky hands carved each letter so smoothly that she could run her fingers through the grooves without a single splinter?

  With tears in her eyes, she held onto Jackson and looked at her home. She loved it so much.

  And then Jackson said the most wonderful thing. “How about I give her a new coat of paint when we get back from New York? To go with her new bling.”

  Hannah silently thanked Nellie Pearle for bringing such a good man to Pearl Key.

  Laughter rang through Hannah’s mind like Christmas bells.

  About the Author

  Lynda Haviland, writer of paranormal romance, is the author of the Age of Awakening series of fantasy romances. She admits to being heavily influenced by hazelnut coffee, red wine, and pop culture. Mistletoe & Magic is the second romantic novella written for her new Hidden Coast series in which Nellie Pearle returns with her ghostly matchmaking ways. Look for her and other oddly entertaining residents of Pearl Key in upcoming adventures.

  To learn more about Lynda, visit with the author at https://www.facebook.com/lyndahaviland. She also welcomes feedback from readers at lynda@lyndahaviland.com.

  You can find more books by Lynda on her author page at Amazon.

  Her Ghost of Christmas Past

  Afton Moss

  Copyright © 2015 by:

  Afton Moss

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This book was built at IndieWrites.com. Visit us on Facebook.

  151016.210803

  Chapter 1

  Dusk was falling, and the first, faint glow of the streetlights settled on the historic Savannah mansion like a halo. Emma Williams’s heart leapt as she paused on the sidewalk to stare. A flickering candle wreathed in boughs of holly tied with gold ribbons illuminated each window, and she could hear the tender notes of “Silent Night” on the cool breeze. It was heart-stoppingly gorgeous—the perfect place for the marriage proposal she’d long been waiting for.

  The antebellum mansion had been turned into a bed and breakfast, the most popular in Savannah. All decked out for Christmas, it looked just like a real-life Thomas Kinkade painting, its welcoming warmth practically beckoning her toward the door. Not that she needed any encouragement. She’d made the reservations as soon as Roy, her boyfriend of ten years, began hinting that this Christmas would be a very special one. She looked down at her left hand, bare except for the brand-new manicure. This was the Christmas she’d get a ring. She was so sure of it, she could almost see a solitaire diamond glittering in the dim light.

  With a frisson of anticipation, she started up the marble steps, her suitcase bumping along behind her, garment bag draped over one arm. She let herself in the front door and headed toward an ancient-looking desk behind which a woman who looked about her age was spraying flocking onto the branch tips of a Christmas tree decorated with vintage ornaments. Emma introduced herself as she signed the guest register.

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” the woman drawled. “My name is Maryann. Let me just check your reservation.” She consulted the laptop open on the desk. It looked incongruous in a room where everything was antique. Maryann wore a red and green plaid taffeta skirt with a gold sash and a white cotton high-necked blouse with long, puffy sleeves. Her hair was arranged in an elaborate Gibson Girl updo, and her makeup was perfect. “I see that you’ve requested our bridal suite. We just love newlyweds here.”

  Emma laughed nervously. “We’re not married yet. But I’m pretty sure there’ll be a ring under the tree this year, so I wanted everything to be especially romantic.”

  “Oh, it’s romantic all right,” Maryann said. “The bridal suite is also haunted by a soldier who used
to live here with his family, but he appears only during this time of year. Our proprietor told you that on the phone, right?”

  Maryann spoke of the ghost in such a matter-of-fact manner that she might as well have been talking about the view or some antique furniture in the room. Emma suppressed a laugh at the notion of the ghost as a real presence. The so-called apparition was probably caused by the noises of a settling old house combined with a breeze rustling sheer curtains in just the right way. Still, watching for a phantom was a good excuse to snuggle closer to Roy, ordinarily not much of a snuggler or cuddler.

  “Oh, yes,” Emma said. “I specifically requested the Christmas ghost’s room. My boyfriend—he should be arriving in the next couple of hours—and I are both history professors at separate colleges in Atlanta. Our specialty is the Civil War. It’ll be such a hoot to tell our friends we stayed in a room haunted by one of the soldiers who rode out to surrender to Sherman and save Savannah.” And even more of a hoot to tell her girlfriends that Roy had proposed to her in the haunted room.

  Emma and Roy had met in college as undergraduates. They’d immediately bonded over their shared interests—principally Civil War history. They’d kept the same group of friends that they’d made in their university days. As all those friends eventually paired off and got married, she’d waited for Roy to pop the question. Then the friends had started having babies, and still she’d waited. Worse than the waiting was the pity she saw in the eyes of her women friends—and even a few of the men—when one special occasion after another went by year after year with no proposal from Roy. She’d just turned 29, and she was determined that she’d be married before she was 30.

  Roy was the proverbial absentminded professor. He could remember the dates of every battle that had taken place during the War Between the States, but could never remember her birthday or the anniversary of their first date. Lapses like that didn’t bother him, though. In fact, nothing did. One of the things she liked most about him was his sunny disposition. He was happy with his professorship in history, happy with the research he published in history journals, happy participating in his weekend Civil War reenactments while Emma did his laundry. And of course, he was happy with their relationship—just the way it was. Happy, happy, happy. And Emma was happy too, of course. They were just so darned perfect for each other. Everyone said so.