To Free a Phantom

by Carrie Pulkinen

  “Did one of the other ghosts? I don’t remember telling her that. Well, I kinda do, but not clearly. It feels like someone’s messing with my mind.”

  Colette cast a sympathetic look. “No one is messing with your mind, dear. I think your subconscious is finally breaking through. You’re doing the things you really want, deep down in your heart.”

  “I don’t think I wanted Caitlyn to hurt Amber.” Nor did she want to order the scripts for the show and arrange all these rehearsals when she hadn’t even decided for sure this was the route she wanted to go.

  A sly smile curved the spirit’s lips. “You certainly seemed to want Gage. And from the view I had of you two, he enjoyed it.”

  A fluttering sensation formed in her stomach. That time may have been her subconscious coming through, but she’d never act so forward on her own. At least, she didn’t think she would. “And you haven’t been whispering in my ear, persuading me to do these things?”

  “I want what’s best for you and this theater, dear.”

  “Of course you do.” The ghost wanted the theater to thrive, anyway, and she seemed willing to do whatever it took. “I’m tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Erica’s mind reeled as she made her way to her car, the memories of her conversation with Caitlyn coming out of the fog. She had said those things, and now she was certain someone else had made her do it. But who?

  Colette had become a thorn in her side lately, but that was because her drive to make the theater a success trumped any type of empathy she might have been capable of feeling. Hell, if Erica had been trapped inside a mirror for seventy-something years, she’d be ornery too.

  The spirit was beautiful, and Leroy and Stanley had been men at one time. Could they be manipulating Erica to try to make Colette happy? Maybe one of them had fallen in love with her. She’d heard of people doing far worse in the name of love.

  One thing was certain: she couldn’t continue living with this brain fog and strange behavior. It was time to come clean with Gage. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too angry with her for lying.

  Chapter Fifteen

  With a bag full of Thai food in one hand and a bouquet of yellow daisies in the other, Gage tapped on Erica’s door with the toe of his shoe. She swung it open, throwing her arms around his neck before he could step inside. She pressed her lips to his and showered his face in kisses.

  Warmth spread through his chest at the sudden onset of affection, but the thin handle on the Thai food bag dug into his fingers so hard he was starting to lose circulation. As she pulled away, he handed her the flowers and shifted the bag to his other hand. “If I’d known food and flowers would earn me that kind of welcome, I’d have been doing this all along.”

  She grinned, pulling him inside and running her gaze along the floor in the entry before closing the door. “The food and flowers are nice, but that welcome was just for you. I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” He set the food on the table. “Come here and let me give you a proper hug.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest and breathing in her intoxicatingly feminine scent.

  Her body melted into his embrace, and…was that a sniffle he heard? He grasped her shoulders, pushing her away to look into her eyes. “Everything okay?”

  She smiled, but a little glimmer of a tear collected on the inside corner of her eye. “Everything’s great. What did you bring for dinner? I’m starving.” She took the flowers from where she’d laid them on the table and put them in a vase in the kitchen. When she returned to the table, her eyes were dry. Maybe he’d imagined the sniffle.

  They dined on Pad Thai and spring rolls, chatting about his day at work, but every time he tried to steer the conversation toward Erica’s theater, she would change the subject, saying she’d been there all day and didn’t want to think about it anymore tonight. Something heavy seemed to weigh on her mind, but he didn’t want to push too hard.

  After cleaning the dinner mess, which involved shoving everything into the trashcan—man, take-out was convenient—he shuffled into the living room and found a Christmas frame sitting on a shelf.

  “It’s a little early for Santa, isn’t it?” He chuckled and stepped toward the frame, but his breath caught when he saw the image nestled inside the festive ornaments. “Where did you get this?”

  “I had it in a box of high school memories.” She wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “My dad found it when he was cleaning out the garage.”

  He picked up the picture. “Man, I was goofy. Look at that floppy hair.”

  “You were cute in your own way.” She moved to stand next to him and kissed him on the cheek. He could get used to this kind of affection.

  “I swear you haven’t changed a bit.” Young Erica wore her hair in the same side-braid as she did now. Her smile lit up her features, but her hair cascaded down her shoulder, covering the side of her face. Her unscarred arm hung casually on his shoulder, but she’d whisked her damaged hand behind her back for the photo. She’d always been good at hiding.

  Smiling, she took the photo from his hand and playfully rolled her eyes. “I’ve changed.”

  He turned to her, resting his hands on her hips. Tonight, her hair hung loose down her back, her scar blatantly marring her otherwise perfect skin. As he let his gaze wander over her face, down to her lips and back to her eyes, she didn’t smooth her locks down the side of her face to hide from him. “You’re right. You’ve gotten more beautiful.”

  “You are too charming for your own good.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips and set the frame on the shelf.

  He glanced at the photo and found a small, silver flash drive resting next to the frame. His heart gave a weak half-beat before slamming into his breast bone. “You still have this?” He reached for the drive and held it gingerly in his palm. “128 megabytes. That was top of the line back then.” A nervous chuckle escaped his throat before he could stop it.

  “You gave it to me a few days before I left for LA, remember? I never got the file open.”

  How could he forget? He’d poured his soul into the document on that drive. Told her everything. Exactly how he’d felt about her. Then, he’d coded it so she’d never be able to read it. “I encrypted the file. You weren’t supposed to be able to open it.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Why would you give it to me if you didn’t want me to open it?”

  Memories of senior year rushed through his mind…the piece of his heart she’d torn from his chest when she’d left. Ten years later, she’d finally made him whole again. He closed his hand around the drive and swallowed the lump in his throat. “There were things I needed to tell you that you didn’t need to hear.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He inhaled deeply, toying with the plastic device, sliding the lever to extend the USB plug and then sliding it back in again. “I never had the courage to tell you how I really felt about you. About us. I wanted you to know, but I waited too long.” He pressed the drive into her palm and curled her fingers around it. “You were leaving. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to change your mind.”

  “Can I see it now?”

  “Now?”

  “If I plug this into my computer, can you open the file?” She held his gaze, her expression a strange mix of anticipation and pleading.

  Why not? Though he couldn’t recall the exact words he’d used, he remembered the emotions. The way he felt about her back then was no different than the way he felt now. He loved her. He always had, and he always would. It was time he told her. He grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “I was eighteen years old when I encrypted that file. I could open it blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back.”

  Licking her lips, she returned his smile. “That gives me an idea for later.” She ran a finger down his stomach and hooked it in the waistband of his jeans, tugging him toward the bedroom.

  “I like the way you think.”

  Unfort
unately, she hadn’t dragged him to the bedroom to ravish him. Instead, she opened her laptop and plugged the flash drive into the USB port.

  Holy hell, he was doing this. He would let her read the rambling words of his love-sick teenage self, and then she’d know he was in love with her. Hopefully, she felt the same. “Remember, I was a kid when I wrote this. Promise you won’t laugh?”

  She drew a cross over her heart. “I promise.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. Hopefully he wouldn’t regret this. With a few strokes on the keyboard, the file opened, and a text document occupied the screen. “Man, I had a lot to say.”

  “Let me read it.” She sank into the chair at her desk and stared at the screen.

  Gage’s core tightened, a heavy fist twisting his heart as he read the words over her shoulder.

  Dear Erica,

  You’re leaving soon, and I don’t want you to go. But I’m not going to tell you that again. Our parents bark enough orders at us, and you don’t need to hear them from me too. You don’t need to hear any of this.

  I’m not going to tell you going to LA is a bad idea. I’m not going to tell you Carter isn’t good for you. That he doesn’t love you. Not the way I do. It’s because I love you that I’m not telling you any of this. Going to LA was your decision to make, and you’ve made it, and I will always support you. If I told you all this, you’d only think I was trying to make you change your mind, and I’m not. But I still need to say it. If I don’t, I’ll never forgive myself.

  I’m going to miss you. I’m going to miss the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh at one of my stupid jokes. I’m going to miss seeing your smile lighting up your face. You are so beautiful. Always remember that.

  I love you, Erica. I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I’ve been too afraid to tell you. You don’t feel the same way about me, and that’s fine. I get it. Now you’re leaving, and it’s too late, but I’m telling you anyway. I love you.

  My love for you is like an ocean, vast and deep. It rages through my soul like a river…

  Gage scrubbed a hand down his face. Holy hell. Could he wax any more poetic? He couldn’t bear to read the rest of his teenage heart bleeding all over the screen.

  He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets as he waited for Erica to finish reading the letter. At least she wasn’t laughing.

  Her shoulders lifted as she inhaled deeply and closed the laptop. She rose to her feet and turned to face him, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “That was…”

  “Corny. I know.” He chuckled. “Eighteen-year-old me had a lot to say.”

  She finally looked at him, and tears collected on her lower lids. “You loved me?”

  “I still do.”

  “God, I was an idiot.” She sniffled, and a fat tear splashed onto her cheek. “I’m still an idiot.”

  His heart ached at the sad expression in her eyes. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He pulled her to his chest. “We’re together now. The present is all that matters, right?” Man, if he’d known this would be her reaction to his sappy love letter, he would’ve told her he couldn’t open it.

  “No.” She let out a deep sob against his chest before pulling from his embrace. “I’m a horrible person, Gage. Horrible. I don’t deserve you.”

  “Hey, don’t say that. I survived. Turned out to be quite a catch, if I say so myself.” He winked, hoping to lighten the mood, but she didn’t smile. This definitely wasn’t the reaction he’d been hoping for.

  Her bottom lip quivered. “I lied to you.” She paced to the bed and sat on the edge. “I’ve been lying to you for a few weeks.”

  Coldness flashed through his veins, and he ran a hand through his hair. Shuffling toward her, he lowered himself onto the space next to her. “It can’t be that bad.” Unless she’d met someone new…or Carter was back in town. Please don’t let it be that bad.

  “It’s bad. I must be going crazy.”

  “How so?”

  She fisted her skirt in her hands and smoothed the material down her legs, then fisted it again and repeated the process. “I think one of the ghosts in the theater is affecting my brain. I’m losing periods of time, doing and saying things I normally wouldn’t. Like when you were there. That was the first time, but it’s still happening, and it’s getting worse.”

  He scrunched his eyebrows, trying to understand what she was telling him. “You’ve been sleeping with other guys at the theater?” Maybe it was that bad.

  “No!” She shot to her feet and paced in front of him. “I would never do that.” She paused and tilted her head. “I would never willingly do that, but something in that theater is making me do things.”

  She wasn’t making any sense. “Something made you sleep with another guy?”

  Erica stopped pacing and held his face in her hands. “I haven’t slept with anyone else. Only you.”

  He let out a slow breath. If she hadn’t cheated, whatever lie she’d told him couldn’t be that bad. He could handle this. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s another ghost in the theater that I didn’t tell you about.” She continued pacing. “Her name is Colette DeVeau. She died in the 1940s, and she’s stuck inside a mirror. The fancy one with the pewter frame.”

  He stiffened. That mirror had been in her bedroom the first night he’d spent with her. Lindsay had mentioned getting some blips on the EMF detector around it at the theater, but Erica had brushed the comments aside, not bothering to mention why it might have happened. He’d asked her specifically if she knew of any other spirits, and she’d told him no. Why would she keep this from him? “How long have you known she’s been there?”

  She plopped onto the bed and put her hands over her face. “I’ve always known. The mirror used to be in Mrs. Spencer’s house. When I’d go for private lessons, Colette would help. Give me pointers.” She laughed humorlessly. “She called me her protégé.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “You’ve been getting acting lessons from a ghost? I don’t understand. Why didn’t you want me to know?”

  “She made me promise never to tell anyone. The same promise my mom asked of me.”

  What was it with ghosts not wanting people to know Erica could see them? She’d been a child when her mother’s spirit made her promise not to talk, a teen when she’d met Colette. He could understand her hesitation when both ghosts were a secret, but now… “You told me about your mom. Why not Colette too?”

  She picked at a loose thread on her skirt. “When she found out what you do…the paranormal investigations…she said you’d try to force her to cross over. She said people had done it before and that it was painful for her. Like she was being burned alive.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  He rubbed a hand on her back. “That’s why you were asking if it hurts the ghosts to cross them over.” It made sense that she’d be willing to keep the ghost’s existence a secret if she thought she’d cause her pain. Erica knew first-hand what it felt like to be burned alive.

  “And when you couldn’t give me a definitive answer…”

  “You couldn’t bring yourself to tell me about her.”

  More tears trailed down her cheeks, falling onto her skirt to darken the fabric. “I’m sorry.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “This ghost is the friend who’s been helping you? The one you told me about?”

  The muscles in her neck contracted as she swallowed and gave a shallow nod.

  His mind reeled. Erica’s foggy memory. The way she’d acted out of character. The pieces of the puzzle began clicking into place, and the end result was not pretty. “The spans of time you’re losing…how long do they last?”

  She shrugged. “Usually a few minutes. Sometimes hours, I think.”

  If this ghost was strong enough to take over Erica’s body, even for a minute or two, her life could be in danger. And by keeping it a secret for so long, there was no telling what kind of hold the spirit had on her. He clenched
his hands into fists. If the mirror used to belong to Mrs. Spencer, could it have been responsible for her mental deterioration too? “You should have told me.”

  Another sob. “I know.”

  “You’ve been channeling her. She’s using you. Manipulating you.”

  “No, Gage. It can’t be her. She’s helped me so much…with my acting when I was young, with the production I’m putting on now. She’s like a spirit mentor.”

  “You’ve got yourself a real-life Phantom of the Opera.”

  She flashed a small smile. “Sort of. Yeah.”

  “You do remember how the story goes, don’t you? When Christine stops following the Phantom’s orders…when she tries to get away…”

  “He locks her up.” She shook her head. “Even if Colette wanted to hurt me, she’s trapped inside the mirror. There’s nothing she can do. I think one of the other ghosts is doing it. Trying to impress her, maybe? She is beautiful.”

  He laughed. “You think you were channeling Leroy or Stanley when we…I doubt it.”

  She slumped her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I feel like a rotten human being.”

  “You’re telling me now. That’s something.” Though he had to admit her lack of faith in him cut deep. “Sounds like we might have some trust issues to work on though.”

  “I know.” She cast her shame-filled gaze to the floor. “I don’t blame you if you never trust me again.”

  He wrapped his arm around her. “I was talking about you trusting me.”

  “I do trust you. I know you’d never lie to me, but I…haven’t been myself lately. Whatever is happening to my brain is affecting my judgement.”

  His stomach turned. If she was coming clean, he should too. “I might have told one small lie.”

  She stared at her hands in her lap. “You did date Allison.”

  “No.” He rested his hand on top of hers. “But I did kinda have a thing for her for a while.”

  She stiffened. “I knew you did.”

  “It never turned into anything. It was years ago, and the feelings weren’t reciprocated.” He squeezed her hand. “Once she told me she wasn’t interested, I got over it. I swear.”