Ghost Gifts

by Laura Spinella

  Levi put the drink down and scrubbed a hand around his neck. “I tried again. I didn’t make it very far. I didn’t know flames could move like that. From nowhere they consumed the top of the stairs, the hall—like a back draft. I had no choice . . . I . . . I couldn’t get to him. Not without going through fire.” He stared past Aubrey, his eyes wide and wet. “I left my brother there to burn to death.”

  She moved toward him and Levi retreated. “I don’t want sympathy,” he said, holding up his hand. “It was my parents’ divorce, my mother’s house, my fault—not Brody’s. If it wasn’t for me, Brody would never have been there in the first place. Even in a tragic accident, people are culpable, Ellis.”

  Aubrey kept moving and eventually the two of them stood in the bright light of an arched window. “Levi, listen to me. It wouldn’t have mattered if you got to him. It was—”

  “I know. I’ve heard all the rational speculation. The smoke got to Brody before I ever could. As it was, the fire was so intense it took hours to put it out. But if I’d been quicker, if I’d chosen Brody over my mother . . .” Levi plucked the glasses from his face, swiping at his eyes. “I’ve thought that for so long . . . I thought about nothing else on the plane trip back from California, my brother’s bones in cargo, in a casket.” Levi’s eyes pinched shut and a visible shudder ran through him. “You know, Ellis, you really know how to bring out the fond memories.”

  “Sometimes the memories aren’t exactly as they appear. Keep going . . . please.”

  “It . . . it was a miserable choice to make. So many years later and the decision doesn’t feel any different, any more manageable.”

  “Levi, I swear to you, a different choice would not have mattered.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because . . .” Aubrey pulled in her own deep breath. On the exhale came the words that had been pounding at her ears since Levi started talking. “It wouldn’t have mattered because your brother was dead before the fire ever started.”

  There was no choice but a direct one. She’d never encountered such a determined specter. But perhaps this was the strength needed for Brody to make good on his seaside promise. It had never been Brody St John’s intention to communicate before this moment, and Aubrey understood why. From that night in California until today, it had taken the time in between, and a series of recent occurrences—Missy Flannigan’s fate included—to get an ever-logical man to this place. Aubrey waited, watching Brody’s confession sink into Levi. She could feel the looming impatience of a specter.

  “What . . . what did you just say?” he said, his expression twisting.

  “Maybe we should sit.” Levi was too dazed to argue and the two of them sat on the pinstriped sofa. Oddly, it was the scent of Chanel that seized Aubrey. It wafted off a delicate cashmere sweater that lay across the arm. Aubrey cleared her throat.

  “I’ll get you some water . . . unless you want something stronger,” Levi said.

  “No, it’s fine.” Aubrey shifted the sweater to a chair. “I don’t need you to do anything but listen.” The sexy scent of the sweater was crushed and carried away by a wave of salty sea. “May I?” she said, looking at Levi’s watch. A snort of laughter rumbled out of him. He undid the watch, surrendering it. There was a sense of liberation as it hit Aubrey’s palm—thoughts flowed freely. “Brody left his watch by the pool earlier that day. That’s how it survived the fire.” Levi pulled in a deep breath. It was another tiny piece of his past that she could not have known. The draw from the watch was magnetic, her hand folding tight around it as signs and symbols clarified. The watch’s real job had been to tick away time until finding its way to her.

  “It’s so warm,” she said, rubbing her thumb over it. “But in a very positive way.”

  “One of the firefighters found the watch. He gave it to my mother. She gave it to me. She was so completely devastated.”

  “From the story you tell, your mother made a lot of precarious choices. But she’s not responsible for Brody’s death. He very much wants you to know that.”

  “Did he overdose? Did that punk-rock prick give him something? Is that why he’s dead? Because if it is, I strongly disagree. In fact, I’d finally side with my father—who’s at least been charitable enough to blame my mother in my presence.”

  Aubrey reached for the upper part of Levi’s arm. She could feel the intrinsic strength, a solid line connection between Levi and his brother.

  “You’re right about the drugs—a combination of . . .” She paused. “It doesn’t matter. Brody says it didn’t even all come from your mother’s friends.” Aubrey paused, navigating the giant secret being whispered in her ear. Her brow crinkled and she let go of Levi’s arm. The watch dropped into her lap. “Oh my God. How did I not see that?”

  Aubrey squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands pressed together like a prayer and she drew the knotted fingers to her mouth. What an incredible oversight, the reason a dead brother had remained here for so long. Aubrey opened her eyes. She needed to tread carefully. “Levi, there’s something you don’t know . . . Something about the night Brody died. It’s going to be so very hard to hear . . . harder to believe.” Instead of touching the watch, Aubrey reached over, gripping his hand. “Your brother didn’t die of an accidental overdose. Brody took his own life. He killed himself.”

  “That’s a lie!” Levi tore his hand from hers. He lurched off the sofa as if Aubrey had jabbed him with a needle. “I knew my brother, Ellis. And that would never have happened. I don’t know who the hell you’re communicating with, but there’s no way Brody killed himself.”

  Aubrey’s demeanor remained opposed, and Brody’s presence was as concrete as the two of them. “He did, Levi. He planned it. The story you just told me. Think about it. Even an eleven-year-old sensed how desperately unhappy he was. You said it yourself. When Brody came downstairs that night, he seemed ‘different’ and ‘settled, even calm.’ It was because he’d made his decision.”

  “That’s absurd. Brody could have packed up and left if he was that determined not to go to West Point.”

  “Could he?”

  Levi, who was pacing in a small circle, stopped.

  “He couldn’t go against an order . . . that’s what I’m hearing. He’d been trained to follow orders his whole life. Your father’s, the prep school . . . His conversation with Jacqueline, it was a last frantic attempt. In the end, he could only see one way out. He . . .” Aubrey listened. Conveying disconcerting facts to a stranger was one thing. Bringing this kind of news to someone she . . . Brody wedged his way into a deep flutter of emotion, insisting that she stay on task. “He’d been considering how for some time. The concept of death, it wasn’t new to Brody or even frightening.” Aubrey pressed on, gently offering each word. “He says it was the upshot of military school—they’d prepared him for the possibility. It was Brody’s plan to swim out into the ocean, just far enough not to make it back. Then the trip to California came up, and for him, the time had come. He’s . . .” She shook her head. “My God, it’s such a frantic whirl of energy . . . He’s . . . he’s showing me a photo in a black frame.” She smiled, the warm gesture slipping into the anguished air surrounding them. “You and Brody, there’s a British flag hanging behind you . . . I’m not sure if you’ve gone on a trip . . . maybe to England? He’s definitely referencing a plane.” She smiled wider. “I know that look, Levi. Your serious face, you had it perfected at what . . . seven or eight?”

  Levi didn’t respond. He walked to a desk, opening a drawer. From it, he removed a black-framed photo. With zero expression, he crossed to where Aubrey sat and handed to her. “Six, actually. I brought it from Hartford. I . . . I guess I wanted it with me, but I didn’t want to look at it.”

  “I see,” she said, examining the photo, which depicted Levi with the face she’d described. In the photo was her lifeguard with his little brother, the St John boys posed in fr
ont of a British flag. It was attached to a small airplane, the two-seater kind. “So you weren’t traveling . . . Sorry, it’s not an exact science.”

  “Maybe not. But that’s pretty damn amazing. We were at an airshow in Washington. The plane on hand represented the Royal Navy. My father was ecstatic—delighted when the pilot offered for Brody to fly with him. I wasn’t allowed to go. I was too young.”

  “Too young both times, Brody says. You were too young for a simple plane ride when you were six . . . And five years later, you were still far too young to understand the complexity of Brody’s pain or how to help him. And for that, your brother insists he’s sorry.”

  A ragged breath vented out of him. Levi stared, the messenger unappreciated. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this, Ellis? Brody was tough and smart and caring. My brother always protected me, whether from the fallout of my parents’ marriage or a swimming pool. He would not have done that to me. Not all those years ago, not today.”

  “His death wasn’t senseless, Levi. It’s also something Brody didn’t even realize would happen in the days leading up to it. Will you sit with me again . . . please? He very much wants you to hear the rest.” He did, though Levi’s reluctance was evident. “The fire was an accident—an unfortunate, horrific accident, exactly what Jacqueline said. Exactly what the fire personnel and police concluded. There was no stopping it. He . . . Brody wants . . .” Aubrey listened harder, wanting to get the message exactly right. She clung tight to the watch. “Could I have a piece of paper?” From under several fashion magazines, Levi produced a legal pad, and then handed her a pencil. With the watch in her left hand, Aubrey pressed the pencil to paper. For a few seconds there was nothing. Then she wrote hurriedly, speaking the words out loud. “‘I stepped away from my pain and the fire began. Then I understood why. It was easy . . . willful,’” she said and wrote, “‘and necessary. Otherwise . . . my reckless selfish choice would not have mattered.’” The pencil dropped like a weight, a wave of exhaustion feeling like it could take Aubrey under. “The last physical thing your brother experienced was his own pain. The smoke and heat, it was coming, and he was at peace going by his own hand.”

  The impressions in Aubrey’s head gathered one at a time, like raindrops forming a puddle. In the reflection of the water came the message a brother had waited so long to convey. “If Brody hadn’t already been . . . dead, he would have been passed out in his room, just as you thought that night. You would have gone after him, Levi. You would have made it up those stairs the first time. And the two of you would have never made it out of there alive. Brody was destined to die in that house that night . . . and so were you,” she said, a swallow rolling through her dry throat.

  “How can you possibly know that?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t. I’m only relaying a message. You said you fell, not once, but twice on the stairs.”

  “I was disoriented. It was dark, smoky.”

  “Maybe. You also said it felt like someone pushed you down the stairs. Your words, Levi. You said it to the police all those years ago. You just said it to me.”

  He sank back into the sofa as if someone had pushed him again. “Brody? He kept me from . . .”

  “And that burst of flames you described, the ones that consumed the hall and the stairs.”

  “But how could he . . .”

  “Remember the noise at the Serino house? The movement of the chandelier and the glass in the French door?” Levi nodded, having witnessed the power of phantom persuasion. “I suspect in your case that was the energy of somebody who loved you hard at work. Brody made certain you didn’t get back up those stairs. His life had ended, but he was determined to make sure yours didn’t. Your brother’s death, while tragic, had a greater purpose, Levi, and that was to keep you alive.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Aubrey’s desire to stay felt natural, the ease with which she and Levi spoke even more so. But altering the past came with a present-day learning curve. In that regard, Aubrey saw signs of fatigue in an always self-possessed Levi. He’d asked more questions, listening intently to answers. As they talked, the stream of information shifted tributaries, moving from Brody to herself. Eventually Levi’s brother faded from view. Aubrey said that she doubted he would return.

  “Not every being is accessible, Levi—at least not to me. More often than not, a spirit’s connection brings the living solace, eases pain. That’s a wonderful thing. What’s harder to comprehend is the more compelling peace that a soul passes on to. We don’t want them to go. But if that’s the case, I believe here pales in comparison, maybe it’s even a moot point.” She’d handed him back the watch and he brushed his thumb over the cool glass of its face. “Of course, rare is the individual left to mourn who appreciates that perspective.”

  Their conversation continued until Bethany called. It alerted them to time and the tangible people in their lives. Aubrey took the interruption as her cue to leave. “Thank you,” Levi said at the door, touching her arm. He retreated fast, shoving both hands in his pockets. “That and I’m sorry for being so . . . so . . .”

  “So Levi St John?” She smiled. “How could you be anything less?”

  “I know I can be . . . unyielding. I don’t accept everyday things at face value, never mind something like . . . well, what happened here.”

  “I understand.”

  “Most people don’t. I know that. But if my orderly, probing tendencies bother other people, I don’t mind it about myself.”

  “There’s a lot to be said for being comfortable in your own skin. And you’re not the only one who came away with something today. Connecting with Brody was a hugely different experience for me. Sublime and fulfilling,” she said, absorbing the unusual poignancy of the encounter.

  “I would have thought those adjectives dulled years ago—kind of like the star athlete scoring his millionth touchdown. Why was this different?”

  “I’m not sure. In my life, people on both sides have expressed gratitude, definitely fascination at my ability. And there can be tremendous satisfaction in healing and helping. Don’t get me wrong. What’s the saying? ‘It has its moments.’ But serving as the connection between you and Brody, it’s never felt so . . . personal for me.”

  A lone dimple eased into the hollow of Levi’s cheek. “I’m glad to know this wasn’t a one-sided affair.”

  Driving home, Aubrey fidgeted and fiddled with the radio. She clicked off a hypnotic ballad. She felt decidedly displaced. Surely her mood was a reasonable aftereffect. Aubrey had shared a life-changing experience with someone she cared about—and yes, she’d come to care about Levi. But what she was experiencing felt more . . . covetous than rewarding. By now, surely Levi’s longtime girlfriend had arrived on the scene. Bethany was there to listen and to help. Aubrey chided herself as she drove. “You’re being ridiculous. You did your part. Let his girlfriend do the rest.” At a stoplight, Aubrey looked in the rearview mirror. Blue-gray irises showed an unlikely flex of green. “What are you, twelve?” she said, eyes narrowing. “Be glad he has someone who cares about him.”

  Even if I am the person who righted his entire world . . .

  Stepping on the gas, Aubrey moved on, but only down Route 30. She wondered what Levi might confide to Bethany. An in-depth explanation would require specific details. And while Aubrey hadn’t stipulated, she felt as if it was understood—Levi would keep her gift to himself. She was sure of it. He’d trusted her with his past. She trusted him with her gift. Perhaps Levi and Bethany’s evening would be typical. Maybe he’d choose to keep the events of that day between the two of them. Aubrey didn’t know if that was right or wrong, but it was how she thought it should be. Pulling into her driveway, her subconscious settled on a scenario: Levi at peace, poring over volumes of Missy Flannigan files. Bethany absorbed in her fashion magazines. Opposite ends of the room.

  At home, Aubrey worked on distanci
ng herself from the day, particularly in light of her evening—a long-overdue date with her husband. Aubrey climbed in the tub, thinking a warm sudsy bath would wash away the Levi cobwebs. But after rerunning the water twice and pruning her skin to a lovely wrinkled state, thoughts of him still wouldn’t go away. Levi’s vulnerability, his honesty, his willingness to face things that had haunted him for so long stayed at the forefront of Aubrey’s mind.

  Wrapped in a towel, she stood in front of her closet, perusing a wardrobe that looked as if it belonged to two different people—half earth tones, half brilliant hues. After the complexity of the afternoon, color was the last thing Aubrey wanted to bring to the evening. She searched the duller side of her closet, on the hunt for something that might complement the occasion—the start of the rest of her life. Taking a deep breath, Aubrey concentrated on Owen and the powerful ways he’d so thoroughly captivated her. He was a man who could explain the universe in code. She understood none of it, though Owen did—because he lived it every day, because that was how his brain worked. Aubrey saw their equally odd minds and improbable gifts as the bedrock of their renewed relationship. But it was more than that, things like the softer side of Owen and an attraction that had clicked on a whole other level—about thirty thousand feet to be exact.