Ghost Who Came for Christmas

by McIntyre, Anna J

  Chris felt as if he and Danielle had a chaperon—Walt Marlow. Not long after Heather said her goodbyes and left, Ian and Lily made an excuse that they were going back to Ian’s house to watch a movie. Chris suspected they weren’t actually going to watch a movie, but wanted to be alone.

  Sadie left with Ian and Lily, while Max napped under the Christmas tree. Chris helped Danielle carry the dirty dishes and glasses back to the kitchen, while Walt silently trailed behind them, occasionally interjecting with negative comments about Chris.

  “So tell me, what is the story with Heather? Essential oils to ward off ghosts?” Chris took a seat at the kitchen table and tried to ignore Walt’s presence, focusing his attention on Danielle.

  “Well…” Danielle squirted a little soap into a wine glass as she considered her answer.

  “This should be good.” Walt chuckled. “Although I’m not sure why she thinks Marlow House needs her voodoo. It’s not like she can see me like she did him.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t mention it when she was here,” Danielle went on. “But Heather’s working on a book—I guess you might call it a real life ghost story.”

  Chris lifted his brows. “Ghost story?”

  “She inherited an old house—a couple blocks away from here. Locals called it Presley House, and some claimed it was haunted.”

  “Haunted?”

  Walt laughed. “I love how you tell the story as if it was just a legend. That crazy ghost almost got you killed in that fire.”

  “I went over there, managed to get myself trapped in a hidden room—and then Lily came looking for me, and she got trapped. Some teenagers broke into the house for a Halloween prank, ended up burning the place down after one of them was careless with a candle. Had Heather not shown up when she did…”

  “Oh my god, that sounds horrible. Were you hurt?”

  “Nothing major.”

  “So what is this about a ghost?” Chris asked.

  “Heather’s writing all about it. Basically she claims those old stories were true—the house was haunted and that she saw the ghost just before the house burned down.”

  “Did you or Lily see it?” Chris asked.

  Danielle’s gaze shot up and looked Chris in the eyes. “Of course not. I can’t see ghosts.”

  Chapter Seven

  Sadie’s barking brought Ian into the living room. There he found the golden retriever’s wiggling butt sticking out from under the curtain’s hem, her tail wagging wildly while the rest of her remained hidden as she looked out the front window.

  “Sadie, what’s all the commotion?” Ian grabbed hold of the curtain and yanked it open so he could look outside. It was Saturday morning—five days until Christmas.

  Ian glanced up and down the street, yet saw nothing to warrant the dog’s enthusiastic outburst. Giving a little whistle, Ian made a snapping gesture with his fingers. Reluctantly, Sadie stopped barking and sat down, her tail still wagging. She looked up at Ian and then back out the window.

  “I still don’t see what you’re barking at.” Ian looked up and down the street. There were no cars parked nearby, aside from his, which was in the driveway, and Chris’ rental car, parked across the street. There were no walkers or joggers in sight, no stray animals.

  Looking over at Marlow House, he smiled when he spied the Christmas wreath hanging on the front door. He thought about how the Christmas lights had looked the night before. He had helped Lily hang a half a dozen or more strands of lights on the mansard roofline of Marlow House, before they took off for California to spend Thanksgiving weekend with Lily’s family.

  Sadie let out a little whimper, distracting Ian from his thoughts of Christmas decorations and reminding him that she had been barking just moments before. Ian, still holding onto the curtain as he held it to one side, glanced down at his dog.

  "What is it Sadie? Was it Max? Did you see him outside? Is he tormenting you?" Ian smiled and then looked back up out the window. To his surprise, he saw a woman standing at the gate of Marlow House, a suitcase in her hand. Ian frowned. "Where did she come from?" He looked up and down the street again. Since there were no cars parked nearby and he hadn't seen a vehicle drop her off, the only explanation he could come up with was that she had arrived by foot. Yet, he couldn't understand how he could have possibly missed seeing her walking up the street toward Marlow House. He had only looked away for a split second. Scratching his head in confusion, he released hold of the curtain and let it fall back in place.

  "I think I need a cup of coffee.”

  Danielle stepped out into the hallway from the dining room and took a deep breath. She loved the smell of Christmas—pine trees, cookies, and cinnamon. Closing her eyes for a moment, she thought about her late husband, Lucas. How couldn’t she? After all, today was the first anniversary of his death. He had died last year on December 20—killed in a car accident with his lover.

  She heard Lily’s laugh coming from the dining room. Opening her eyes, Danielle glanced back toward the sound. Lily and Chris lingered with Joanne at the dining room table. They had just finished breakfast. Danielle suspected they were sampling the pastry tray she had left on the table, while they had more coffee.

  If Lily remembered today was the anniversary of Lucas’ death, she hadn’t mentioned it. Danielle suspected her friend did not want to put a damper on her Christmas spirit. After all, Danielle had once believed it would be impossible for her to ever again enjoy her favorite holiday.

  The pain she had experienced last Christmas was excruciating and she honestly believed she would never again decorate a Christmas tree or bake her grandmother’s Christmas cookies. But then, she had moved into Marlow House and something inside her had changed. It was as if she had come home, and all she wanted to do was fill the house with laughter and love. She wanted to celebrate life. Danielle wanted Christmas back.

  She forgot why she had come into the hallway and was about to return to the dining room when she heard the doorbell ring. Thinking it was a little early for her next guest to arrive, she wondered if it was Ian, and then she wondered why he hadn’t simply entered through the side gate as he normally did.

  When Danielle opened the front door a moment later, she found not Ian standing on the front porch but a young woman, suitcase in hand. Danielle had three more guests arriving that day—one was a man, who obviously wasn’t the person standing at her door. Another was a woman, yet that woman had a seven-year-old daughter, and not only was there no little girl in sight, this woman didn’t look old enough to have a seven-year-old child. Not unless she was thirteen when she’d had her.

  “Hello, how can I help you?” Danielle asked.

  “This is Marlow House, right?” The woman held up her hand; in it was a crumbled piece of newspaper. Danielle immediately recognized it. It was the ad she had placed in an Oregon paper for Marlow House, advertising an old fashioned, traditional Christmas holiday.

  “Yes it is, how can I help you?”

  “I’m here for the old fashioned Christmas holiday.” She handed the crumpled paper to Danielle and started to walk into the house.

  “I’m sorry,” Danielle said, handing the paper back. The woman froze. “But we’re all full for the holiday.”

  Tears filled blue eyes as the woman shook her head in denial. “No, please, you have to have a room. I have no where else to go. I can pay. Honest.”

  Danielle peeked her head out the door and looked toward the street, the only car she saw was Chris’ rental car.

  “How did you get here?” Danielle asked. “Where’s your car?”

  “I was dropped off. Please, I won’t take much space. You can put me anywhere. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “I’m really sorry, but all our rooms are taken. I’m sure I can get you a room at one of the hotels. They’re usually not busy this time of year.”

  “You don’t understand,” the woman shook her head again. “It’s Christmas and I don’t want to spend it alone. Not again. Not this ye
ar. I saw your ad, and I thought…well, maybe this year will be different. Maybe this year I won’t be alone.”

  The woman’s heartfelt words felt like a slam to Danielle’s gut. Staring into her blue eyes, Danielle thought for a moment she was looking at herself. She understood the woman’s pain—her loneliness.

  Impulsively, Danielle said, “There’s a sofa bed in the attic. But you’d have to walk down the stairs to use the bathroom at night.”

  “That would be perfect!”

  “And it isn’t very comfortable. I had it in my house, before I moved here, so…”

  “Oh that’s fine! I can sleep anywhere, I promise. You don’t know how much this means to me!”

  Danielle opened the door wider, welcoming the woman in. “My name is Danielle Boatman, I’m the owner of Marlow House.”

  “Nice to meet you, Danielle. Can I call you Danielle?” Now in the entry hall, the woman set her suitcase on the floor and looked around.

  “Yes, and you are?” Danielle closed the front door.

  “My name…my name is Anna Williams.”

  “You’re putting someone in the attic?” Walt asked when he appeared a moment later.

  Ignoring Walt, Danielle pointed toward the living room. “Why don’t you wait by the Christmas tree and I’ll have Joanne prepare the room for you.”

  “Thank you, that would be wonderful.”

  “And then we can go into the parlor, and I’ll check you in.”

  “Thank you, Danielle. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “I think I’ll keep an eye on this one,” Walt muttered as he followed the women into the living room.

  Chris was on his way back to his room when he glanced into the living room and spied Walt sitting on a chair watching a young woman. She sat quietly on the sofa, glancing around the room, oblivious to the fact she was being watched by Marlow House’s resident ghost.

  Stepping into the room, he called out, “Hello, you must be the new guest Danielle said would be staying in the attic…” he paused when she looked his way and their eyes met. He knew those eyes.

  “Hello, and you are?” she asked.

  Chris stepped closer and extended his hand. “Chris…Chris Johnson. And you are?” They briefly shook hands.

  “I’m Anna Williams. Are you a guest here too?”

  “Yes, yes I am.” Chris forced a smile.

  “I suppose we’re all going to spend Christmas together. Won’t that be nice?” Anna smiled at Chris.

  The sound of a bell jingling came from the direction of the Christmas tree. They both looked toward the sound and watched as Max leisurely strolled out from beneath the branches of the evergreen.

  “A cat?” Anna asked.

  “Meet Max.” Chris introduced.

  Walt looked down at the cat Anna was now petting. “Yes Max, there is another one, and this one Danielle is putting in the attic. You know what that means? Right, it means I’m being kicked out of the attic during the duration of her stay. No, Danielle has asked me not to go into the guests’ bedrooms when they’re there. Privacy, Max. No, I can’t be lurking in a woman’s bedroom like some peeping Tom.”

  Max responded with a loud meow.

  “I wonder if he’s hungry?” Anna asked.

  “Come on Max, let’s go see the attic one last time—before she officially kicks us out.”

  The moment Walt vanished and Max strolled from the room, Chris leaned forward and hissed, “I know who you are, but why are you here?”

  “Oh Chris, you did recognize me! What was all that—”

  “Listen to me Anna. He could come back any minute.”

  “He?” Anna glanced around the room.

  “You didn’t see him?”

  “What are you talking about? Him who?”

  “It seems Marlow House has its own ghost, and I’m fairly certain Danielle Boatman can see and hear him. What I can’t figure out is, why didn’t you see him?”

  Anna looked around. “Are you telling me there was a ghost in here?”

  Chris nodded. “He just left. So, unless you want to ruin everything, you need to be careful because maybe you can’t see him, he can obviously see you.”

  Anna frowned. “This could complicate things.”

  “Fortunately, from what he was saying—”

  “He was talking to you?”

  “No. He was talking to the cat.”

  “But he doesn’t have to talk out loud to communicate with the cat.”

  “Maybe not, but he obviously likes to think out loud. What I was about to say is, I don’t think he’ll be going into the attic while you’re there. Something about an arrangement he has with Danielle about the guests’ rooms.”

  “Now that would really complicate things.”

  “You still need to be careful. What did you say to convince her to give you a room? She came into the dining room and asked Joanne—the woman who works for Danielle—to help her fix up a place in the attic, for an unexpected guest. Joanne and Danielle’s friend, Lily, seemed quite surprised Danielle was willing to let you stay in the attic.”

  Anna smiled. “Oh, it wasn’t difficult to tap into her vulnerabilities.”

  Chapter Eight

  “You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen; you know Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen; but do you recall the most famous reindeer of all…”

  Walt stood by the Christmas tree and watched Anna absently tap her right toe to the melody of Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer. She sat on the living room couch, flipping through the latest version of Country Living Magazine.

  Christmas carols had been streaming nonstop through the living room speakers since Anna had checked into the attic room and returned downstairs. The volume was low enough that it didn’t prevent conversation. Yet at the moment, Anna was alone in the living room, and there was no one for her to talk to. That wasn’t entirely accurate—she wasn’t alone. Walt was in the room with her, but she could neither hear or see him, so conversation was out of the question.

  The first time Walt had heard the song he had asked Danielle about this Rudolph character. He had never heard of him before, which wasn’t surprising, considering Rudolph was born about 14 years after Walt died.

  Anna began to hum along with the song as she tossed the magazine onto the coffee table and picked up another, beginning to flip through it. Walt couldn’t put his finger on it, but he thought there was something a little odd about Marlow House’s newest guest. She looked normal enough—a young woman whom he guessed was barely twenty years old, if that. It wasn’t her appearance he found odd; though she was dressed rather conservatively for her generation, if he compared her attire to what he saw on television and in Lily’s People Magazines.

  She was actually a pretty thing, with white-blond hair cut into soft curls falling at her shoulders and clear blue eyes. Maybe it was her eyes, he thought. It was the way they looked at Chris earlier. They reminded him a little of Angela’s eyes—not how he first saw Angela—but later, after she had revealed her true nature. Walt found that disturbing.

  He also wondered: where had she come from? According to Danielle, Anna’s ride had dropped her off in front of Marlow House, yet she couldn’t quite explain who that ride was. As much as he tried, Walt couldn’t get Danielle to see how peculiar it was—someone just being dropped at the front door without any prior arrangement and willing to take any room—even a sofa bed in the attic. All Danielle could see was a young woman, all alone for the holidays.

  Lunchtime had come and gone, and while Danielle had said the rooms only included breakfast and dinner, she had offered Chris a sandwich, which he had accepted. At the moment, Chris sat outside with Danielle on the back patio, talking. Judging from the way they were bundled up in jackets, Walt guessed it was cold outside and suspected the reason Danielle had invited Chris outside for hot tea and cookies was so that Walt couldn’t listen into their conversation.

  Anna had declined a sandwich, saying she had eaten a bi
g breakfast that morning. Walt was somewhat relieved to know the woman had already paid for her room—through New Year’s Eve, with cash—and so far, she hadn’t been peeking in drawers and closets, looking for something to pilfer.

  Ian had taken Lily out for lunch and they hadn’t yet returned. Instead of leaving Sadie at Marlow House, Ian had left his dog at his house across the street. Walt hated when he did that. Max was upstairs sleeping on Danielle’s bed—the cat seemed to spend most of his life sleeping. Also upstairs was Joanne Johnson, attending to her housekeeping duties.

  The sound of the doorbell interrupted Walt’s thoughts. Anna stood abruptly, tossing the magazine back to the table as she looked toward the doorway and straightened imaginary wrinkles from her skirt with the palms of her hands. Walt wondered if Danielle would come inside now to answer the door, or would Joanne hear the doorbell and come downstairs to answer it.

  A moment later, Anna dashed from the room. Walt followed her into the hallway and to the entry. Without hesitation, Anna opened the door.

  Standing on the front porch was a young man, a suitcase by his side. Walt surmised this man was around Chris’ age. Does Danielle really need a houseful of men? Walt asked himself in disgust.

  Upon seeing the young man, Anna let out a gasp, her right hand flying to her mouth. “Bobby!”

  Walt thought the man looked a little taken back by Anna’s outburst. He stood there for just a moment staring at the woman when his frown quickly turned to a smile—one that seemed oddly fake to Walt. He said, “Umm, I’m Richard Winston. Are you Danielle Boatman?”

  “Oh, no.” Anna shook her head and nervously glanced behind her.

  “I’m Anna Williams. Danielle is outside having tea with another one of the guests. But please, come in; I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  Anna showed the man to the living room and then rushed outside to get Danielle.