by Morgana Best
After Uncle Tim had gone to bed clutching a six pack of ice-cold beer, I leaned against the smooth oak frame of the door.
“I came from a small family. Is that how all relatives and women friends act?” Alum asked me.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. I groaned as I looked at the mess of glasses on the table and empty wine bottles on the floor. It would only take a few minutes to clear away, but I wasn’t quite up to it. I shuffled to a chair and sank into it with a sigh of relief. “I’m not exactly a social person. I don’t know if all people talk that way, or if we’re just, um, special.”
Alum raised his eyebrows. “You aren’t a social person, but you do live shows for a living?”
“That’s different. That’s work.” I rubbed the base of my neck, trying to relax a tension knot. “People want to know about their loved ones, and I make the connections. It’s completely different from getting to know someone.”
“Fair enough.” Alum reached out with both hands for two wine glasses, but his ghostly hands passed straight through them. A rueful smile crossed his face. “I’m sorry to have eavesdropped, by the way. I tried to leave you to your talk, but every time I tried to leave, I suddenly found myself back here with you.”
“Stalker,” I teased him. I had to wonder why he couldn’t wander far from me. As far as I knew, we had never met. I sincerely doubted I owned any of his items. In my line of work, I had to be careful about the kinds of items I purchased for myself. I avoided items that possibly had sentimental value to their prior owners. I did not purchase antiques or heirlooms without knowing the full history of the items. A ‘bad impression’ had a whole different meaning in my line of work. Carelessly bringing in the belongings of a resentful spirit was a sure way to cause nightmares. And every time I did bring anything into my house, I was careful to smudge it diligently with white sage.
So if we were strangers, and I had none of his personal belongings, why did he keep finding his way back to me? How did he find me to begin with? And why could I see him? The more I thought about it, the more questions cropped up.
“They were wrong, you know.” He concentrated on trying to grasp a wine glass. The remaining fluid in the bottom did not so much as tremble from his efforts. He might as well have been a morning mist caressing the glass for all the effect he had on it.
I got out of the chair to pick up the glasses. “You’ll have to narrow that statement down a little.”
“Sorry I can’t help you clean up,” he said, walking with me into the kitchen. “They were wrong about you being alone for the holidays. I doubt I’ll be crossing over, or whatever you call it, anytime soon.”
I paused. It hadn’t occurred to me that Alum would still be here, or maybe I was afraid of getting attached to the idea of him being there. “I’ll be happy for the company.” I was glad that he couldn’t read minds.
“If the case was solved tonight, I’d still like to stay for Christmas,” he said, and then looked decidedly embarrassed. “If you don’t mind the company, of course.”
I set the dishcloth neatly along the edge of the sink. “I wouldn’t mind in the least, but I don’t know what will happen when your time comes. If you’re meant to head toward the light, then you probably won’t have a choice. You might be drawn to the other side, whether you want to go or not.”
His rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You just made the other side sound like a giant bug zapper.”
I burst into laughter. It occurred to me that Alum had probably had more than a few lonely holidays himself. Had he been stuck at home? Or did he work through the holidays to keep himself busy?
“We could watch a movie on Netflix,” I suggested. “Or we could play chess. I can move the pieces for both of us. Though that would have to be early in the morning, as none of my guests are early risers.”
“And I’ll give you a present as well,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll give the gift of not singing any Christmas carols. I’m tone deaf.”
I laughed again. “I’m not partial to Christmas Carols anyway, not the old ones. Call me Scrooge, but for some reason they give me the heebie-jeebies. So you’re tone deaf?”
“Yes, once I made a K-9 unit howl.” He nodded with mock solemnity.
I smiled. It would be good to have pleasant company on Christmas Eve. Even if the company in question was a ghost.
Chapter 9
“It’s not too bad for a last minute thing,” I said aloud, and then I chided myself for doing so. I had lived alone for so long that I often spoke aloud to myself. And now with Alum turning up from time to time without warning, I had to be more careful. He would surely think I was a lunatic if he heard me chattering away.
I stood in the center of the room and studied the decorations I had spent the last hour digging out. I had been gone for almost a month, and I hadn’t given decorating too much thought. Without my son and daughter-in-law visiting for Christmas, the effort of lights and a tree felt like more trouble than it was worth. Still, I had put up the Christmas tree before the guests arrived, although I wondered how long the decorations would last with Luke around.
I love lights and sparkling things, so I had a wreath and a heart, both made of sticks with lights inserted at intervals, from last year. I kept a lemongrass candle burning most of the time on top of my wood fire—only in summer, of course—but now I placed bayberry and cinnamon candles around it. I placed it out of reach of Luke. I know he was supposed to be asleep, but I wasn’t taking the risk. I could imagine he would take creative delight in burning down my house.
I had a red Celtic table runner complete with triskelion symbols at regular intervals. It didn’t seem too Christmassy, and that suited me fine. I put it over the old oak dining room table, and placed red, green, white, gold, and silver candles along it. I had kept the pinecones I had gathered last year and sprayed with gold paint, so I put those along the table around the candles.
I looked at the table. It was beautiful, and already the air was infused with the scent of bayberry. My spirits lifted. I envisioned Alum sitting with me and us having a nice chat every morning before the guests woke up and staggered from their rooms. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had nice company over. A normal meeting without bickering and demands was quite an appealing vision, despite the fact that Alum couldn’t eat or drink. He couldn’t even lift a glass in a toast.
Alum appeared in front of the mantle. I jumped. It was hard to get used to seeing a ghost, and at that, one who looked like a real, live person. He tried to pick up a candle, but as usual, his hand passed through it as if it were mist. He turned around to me, his face downcast. “Aren’t ghosts supposed to be able to rattle pots and move things around?”
“I really don’t have any idea.” I shrugged. “When I passed on messages, they all just felt like people staying around, watching over their loved ones.”
“That has to be hard for you,” Alum said as he turned to study the scattered decorations. “All that grief.”
I poured some wine and took a long sip. “No, it’s happiness rather than sadness. Most of the time it’s a warm feeling. People are usually really happy to know that their loved ones are still around, watching over them. Sometimes, though, a mean spirit comes through. Those ones don’t feel at peace.” I shuddered.
Alum rubbed his chin. It seemed to me that he was tempted to say something, but thought the better of it. Instead he turned his attention to the table. “I thought all your guests had gone to sleep. Are you having a guest over?”
My cheeks burned. Perhaps I had gone over the top. What was I thinking? Friendly chatter while Alum sat in front of an empty plate? The more I thought about it, the sillier it seemed.
I took my glass and the bottle to the couch. “No,” I said with embarrassment. “I thought, um…” My voice trailed away.
Alum raised his eyebrows. “None of your friends are coming back?”
I finished my glass and sank into the cushions. “No. It’s better t
hat way anyway. They can be high maintenance, as you saw.”
“So that’s all the time?” Alum looked surprised. “All that endless bickering and jabbing?”
I nodded. “I guess so.” I really didn’t want to think about it. Christmas brought up enough disheartening memories without adding a few more.
Alum looked troubled by that admission. He studied the table and then walked to stand behind a chair, leaning so that he looked like he was inclining his elbows against it. It was an illusion, of course. A spirit had no weight to support. Still, I could tell he had been practicing. The pose looked almost natural.
“You really shouldn’t spend Christmas Eve evening alone,” he said in a surprisingly gentle tone.
“I’m not alone,” I said. “You promised, remember? Christmas at my place, even if you have to ignore a white light and all that?”
“And I meant it,” he said, “but you should be around living people.”
I waved him over to sit down. “Honestly, I’ve never cared too much for Christmas. It’s all really tedious when you don’t have anyone to celebrate it with. After the kids moved out, it was easier just to treat it like any other day. I really don’t mind that everyone’s gone to sleep.”
Just like any other day, only quieter, I thought, what with everyone busy with other plans and the scant shops all closed. Last year too, my son Mark had not been able to make it away from Dubai. We had celebrated Christmas and New Year together halfway through January.
“That’s a shame.” Alum had a faraway look in his eye. “Needless to say, Christmas was more a public show with my ex-wife than a holiday. But at the office, the guys and I would all chip in for a cake and supplies. We’d sing carols to cheap party punch until we were called out on assignments. My partner and I…” His voice and his expression faded.
I wondered if Alum and his partner had been friends before everything happened. I imagined that they were. It seemed impossible not to build some sort of connection when working side by side in a danger zone, but then again, I had always thought that my marriage was unbreakable, along with my relationships with my children.
“How about a toast? To a merry Christmas and to our success on your case,” I said, pouring myself a little more wine. I knew that I should not. One glass was my personal limit. Still, it was Christmas, and I needed something to blunt the ache that welled as the memories threatened to ruin a perfectly good evening.
Alum smiled. “I really must abstain, but please have a drink in my honor.”
I gave a wry smile as I considered our circumstances. Alum likely had people he wished he could spend Christmas with, but could not. I was in the same boat, with my son half a world away. And as for my daughter, Sabrina—well, we might as well be on separate planets.
“Why not? One drink, coming up,” I said with false cheerfulness as I refilled my glass.
* * *
It was a mistake.
I set my half-eaten dinner on the coffee table and lay down across the couch. Possum glared at me when her napping spot was confiscated. She retreated to a window sill and glowered, while her tail tapped the window pane, her amber eyes plotting kitty revenge over the sudden eviction.
“Are you okay?” Alum asked me.
I half opened my eyes to see him kneeling down beside me. “No,” I said, following the proclamation with a dry laugh. “Did I tell you this was my least favorite holiday?”
I’d had too much wine. I tried to gather my wits before I made a fool of myself, but it was a losing battle.
“You might have hinted at it before,” Alum said with a thin smile.
“I thought I’d grow to like it. When the kids were tiny, they were so cute when they went to see what Santa got them for Christmas. We’d have dinner and their eyes would shine at all the food.” I sighed. “But then they got bigger. Mark was never too old for Santa, but Sabrina just became this black hole. Nothing ever seemed to make her happy. I spoiled her, I guess. Then Christmas just became a chore. One big obligation where we all tried to tolerate the whole thing. Mark and his wife are wonderful when they come to visit, but they can never be here for the actual holiday.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Alum said kindly.
I waved a hand at him. “Don’t feel bad for me. I’m used to it. It’s always been a big obligation, the big family Christmas! All year long, Mom and Dad did their own thing. They never had time for me, but every Christmas, we’d sit there and pretend we were a nice, happy family. And then I go and do the same thing to my kids.” I groaned and tried to smother myself in the couch cushion.
“You were too busy for your kids?”
“No!” I was dismayed at his words. “Never! I’d never do that. Not in a million years. I just meant that we all acted like Christmas was all merry and bright, even after the divorce. Sabrina doesn’t talk to me anymore, you know. Her father turned her against me some time ago. I don’t know how, because she and I used to be so close.” I dug my fingernails into my hand to stop myself bursting into tears.
I wondered if Sabrina would ever realize that her father had done his utmost to turn us against each other. He was a man who liked to win, and one who didn’t understand that relationships didn’t need a winner and loser. We could both have the love of our children. I was lucky that my son knew that already, and didn’t fall for his dad’s nonsense.
“You meant well in it.” Alum tried to reach out and pat my hand. As ineffective as the attempt was, I could not help but appreciate the gesture. It was comforting to know that he wanted to try.
“The road to hell, they say, is paved with good intentions,” I said with a hiccup.
“Is that why you didn’t want to accept the other woman’s invitation?”
“She was only pitying me.” I felt awful as soon as I said it. “It would have been exhausting. You know, smiling and pretending that I belonged there. It wouldn’t have been fair to anyone, especially not her real guests.”
“I think she thought of you as a real guest,” the ghostly figure answered. “I was a pretty captive audience. She looked pretty sincere.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to pretend everything is okay.”
Alum nodded. “You shouldn’t have to. If it’s not okay, then let it be not okay. No one has a right to tell you to pretend that it is.”
“I wish it were,” I said wistfully, as I tried to pull myself together.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have insisted that we celebrate it together.”
I sat up so fast that my vision spun dangerously. I had to lay my head back down. “No, no. I don’t hate Christmas. I just don’t like to make a big deal out of it. I’m the one being a Debby downer during our party. I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m glad you’re willing to tell me all this,” Alum said earnestly. “If you’re hurting, then it’s okay to let that hurt show. You don’t have to pretend, not with me anyway.”
I smiled and wanted to respond, but my eyelids were becoming twin boulders. It was exhausting trying to keep them open. It always happened when I drank more than one glass. I became a human chatterbox, and a tired one at that.
“Sorry,” I muttered as I closed my eyes. I figured it was just my imagination, but I let myself pretend that I felt a cool hand brushing across my forehead as I drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 10
I squinted at the light and winced. If only I had pulled the blinds across the windows in my bedroom before I’d passed out on the bed—after I had finally made it there in the wee small hours of the morning. My head was pounding and my stomach felt queasy.
I gingerly got to my feet and walked across the room. I pulled the blinds shut and went back to bed. I lay there trying to psych myself into getting up. I was thirsty; my throat was dry and I needed to go to the bathroom. Most of all, I needed aspirin.
I finally got up and went to the kitchen after a detour to the bathroom. I poured myself a glass of water from the sink and swallowed two aspirin as I leaned against t
he counter. Then I remembered what day it was.
Christmas.
I sighed. My son wasn’t even in the country, and my daughter wasn’t speaking to me. She would be with my ex-husband, a horrible man who told horrible lies. It added insult to injury to realize he wouldn’t be alone today.
I went into the living room and saw that everyone was already awake. Opened gifts and wrapping paper covered the entire living room floor. I was normally the only early riser amongst them, so I must have slept in for ages.
“Luke insisted we all open our gifts at six this morning,” Rainbow said.
“Six?” I echoed. “But you all usually sleep in ‘til after nine.”
“Luke was excited that it was Christmas,” Rainbow said defensively.
Uncle Tim shrugged. “Yes, his loud shrieking woke us up. I don’t know how you managed to sleep through it, Prudence.”
“My son does not shriek!” Rainbow herself shrieked, before bursting into tears and running from the room. Luke ran after her, kicking gifts out of his way.
Christina put her head in her hands. “It’s started already,” she said with a groan. “Is it too early to drink?”
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Uncle Tim said, handing her a wine bottle.
I looked at the large square object wrapped in Christmas paper and propped up against my wall. I smiled. It was my Christmas present to myself. I had made myself wait to open it. Mark and Victoria always sent the most thoughtful gifts. I had already opened their gifts, a huge set of organic lavender and geranium bath salts, bubble bath, and hand cream, and hidden them in my room, away from the destructive hands of Luke.
I sat down on the floor in front of my package, pulling a long sliver of paper down with me as I did. Soon I had all of the paper off and I could see the painting beneath. It was an abstract painting, mostly blues with some purple and an angry splash of red in one corner. I liked it. I liked art in general, and had one other of the same artist’s paintings hanging in my bedroom. I had settled on this one, considerably larger, for the living room.