“We don’t call him that,” Ali warned. “He never even found out what sex that baby was, so we just call him the sperm donor.”
Sam laughed. “Why did he leave?”
“Couldn’t handle the pressure, I guess.” Ali shrugged. It really didn’t matter to her. Or to Mel. They were fine with how things turned out. “I just wish Mel had told me how hard things have been lately.”
“I guess she didn’t want to worry you.”
Ali stepped forward to put Charlie’s pacifier in when he stirred. “I don't know why she has to always go and be so independent.”
Sam laughed. “She reminds me of you in that way. In a lot of ways, actually.”
Ali nodded. “She had to grow up fast. We both did.”
“After your mom died?”
“Yeah. Oh, hey,” she added, spotting Charlie’s new Christmas teddy bear at the base of the crib, “go grab the Polaroid camera. I wanna snap a picture for Mel.”
Sam strolled off while Ali set the scene, placing the little red-and-white bear under Charlie’s arm. With his pacifier in his mouth and his Santa pajamas on, he looked ultimately adorable. Like something from a magazine. She took the camera when Sam came in and snapped a few close-ups. Charlie didn't even stir as the flash lit up his face.
“He’s going to be so excited for his presents tomorrow,” Ali mused.
“I hope he likes what we got him.”
“He’ll probably like the box more than the gift,” she said with a laugh, stepping back to get a picture of the entire crib and baby. “Mel’s going to love this.”
One by one she handed the photos to Sam, who shook them out a little, even though he knew Polaroids shouldn’t be shaken, and he placed them all in a pile on the dresser.
“Okay, smile,” Ali said, coming to stand beside him. Sam leaned his cheek into hers and pulled a ridiculous face, ruining the picture. “Hey!”
“What? You didn't say I had to smile properly.”
“Fine.” Ali stood close again and retook the photo, this time both of them pulling a stupid face.
“There,” she said, shaking the square sheet. “We can make that our Christmas card photo.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, somewhat sarcastically, “maybe we can do silly face Christmas cards every year and annoy the hell out of everyone we know.”
Ali laughed. “Sounds perfect.”
They turned on the nightlight and Ali tucked Charlie in one more time, moving all the soft toys away from him and down to the end of the bed—as Mel had instructed, to be sleep-safe—then left the room, both of them thinking about that Christmas card idea. It was one thing to live under the same roof in separate rooms, to date and to be together on holidays, but talking about a couples’ card took the relationship to an entirely new level. And neither of them minded that one bit, even though neither piped up to say it aloud.
***
Stuffed full of traditional Christmas foods, and some weird British ones that they ate only to be polite, Mrs. Beaty, Mel, Sam, and Ali sat in the parlor watching the lights twinkle on the tall pine. Since Mel arrived, any paranormal activity they once noticed in the house had died down completely. Ali had been worried about Charlie, especially since folks said babies can sense spirits, but there hadn't been any issues so far. Christmas Eve had been perfect, Christmas day had so far been perfect too, and having Mrs. Beaty around made it feel like one of those Christmases Ali saw on TV growing up. Ali adored that old woman like a grandmother figure and she knew Sam felt the same.
They sat laughing for a while, flipping through the Polaroids taken over the day, and then Ali presented Mel with the cute snaps of Charlie in his crib last night and the adorable couple shot her and Sam snapped of their silly faces.
“Aw, you guys are so cute together,” Mel said, showing Mrs. Beaty the photo.
“You could make that your Christmas card photo for next year,” Mrs. Beaty suggested, taking the next photo and smiling at it.
Ali threw a cheeky grin across the room to Sam as he sat down in the armchair. He looked pleased with himself, taking in the scene with new eyes: Ali leaning on the sofa behind Mel, all three women cooing over cute baby pictures. It’s what he once imagined Christmas would be like—the way it once was when he lived with his family twenty years ago. He was just about to say how perfect a day it had been when Ali gasped loudly and snatched a photo off Mel, darting across the room to the bookshelves.
“Oh my god,” she breathed, face pale.
“What?” Mel spun around to watch as Ali switched on a lamp and held the picture up to the light.
Sam got up and joined her, easing the others back with a wave of his hand. “Ali, what is it?” he said softly.
She showed him the picture, trying not to cry. Not to panic, but all she could think about was Charlie—asleep up there in that room—alone.
Leaving Sam to deal with Mel’s confusion, she dashed up the stairs at a run and threw Charlie's door open, breathing a sigh of relief to see him safely playing in his crib. Mel screamed a second later and blew through the door to grab her son from Ali’s arms, retreating to the furthest corner of the room.
“What was that, Ali?”
Both of them looked at the corner behind the crib, where the photo had clearly displayed the creepy shadow and its unmistakably human face, watching the sleeping child.
“It’s Sarah,” Sam said, coming in to the room.
“Who’s Sarah?” Mel wanted to cry, but stayed strong, only taking a breath when Mrs. Beaty came in put her arm around her.
“Sarah was my wife. She died—”
“Here? In this room?” Mel wailed.
“No. In the turret,” Ali explained.
“Well what was she doing in here? With my baby?” Mel knew she was screeching like a banshee, but she was terrified. In her mind she was packing her bags and booking the next flight out of there.
“I don’t think she means any harm,” Sam started.
“You don't think? You don't think?” she screamed, making Charlie cry. “Sam, there was a ghost in my son’s room! Watching him!”
Sam knew it was bad, but it would also be bad if Mel left right now and never came back. Ali needed her family here. He didn’t know that until they arrived, but Ali had been so happy ever since, and he was afraid she might go away with them.
“It’s okay, dear,” Mrs. Beaty said. “No harm done. And you two are more than welcome to come stay with me.”
Mel calmed a little, turning her whole body to face Mrs. Beaty. “Really?”
“Of course. Let’s pack your things and we’ll go after dessert.”
“I’m not sure I want to stay in this house for another second,” she said.
Sam nodded to say he understood, then turned without a word and left the room. Ali wanted to cry. Poor Sam had tried so hard to make this day special, and it wasn’t anyone’s fault it had all gone wrong, but she felt bad anyway.
“I’ll just see if he’s okay,” Ali said, pausing at the door. “Silly question, but . . . are you okay Mel?”
Mel shook her head, kissing Charlie on the temple.
Ali nodded, walking away too. There was nothing she could say. If that had been her baby, she’d have freaked out worse than Mel. She’d have jumped out the window and never looked back. No, she’d have burned the entire damn house down to get rid of that ghost, and right now that was looking like an option.
Ali found Sam in his room, sitting on the end of his bed with his hands gathered in his lap, shoulders rounded. “Don't feel bad, Sam.”
“How can I not? This has ruined Christmas.”
Ali laughed, sitting down beside him. “It hasn’t ruined it.”
“Mel will never come back here again, Ali.”
Ali knew that to be true. “Well, then we’ll just have to go to her house at Christmas.”
He sighed, and as much as Ali hated the disappointment on his face she also loved that it meant he truly did care. “I wanted this day to be perfec
t for you.”
“And it was. Is,” she trilled, laying her hand on his thigh. “I mean, so your ex showed up uninvited and caused some trouble. What family hasn't had that happen before?”
Sam laughed. He tried not to, but she had a point. “Even exes from beyond the grave?”
“All exes are beyond the grave, Sam. In one way or another.”
“No, this is totally different,” he retorted, laughing. “This is insane.”
“Yes. But Charlie is safe, Mel is only freaked out, and everything will be fine. And . . .” she leaned a little closer to whisper, “it means we get the house to ourselves tonight.”
“Well, when you put it like that,” he said, placing his arm around her shoulders. But something told him they’d never had this house to themselves, and for the first time since he moved here, he started to think about moving away.
~19~
Life Goes On Around the Pain
Mel hugged Sam and then her sister tightly, with Charlie squeezed awkwardly between them, the final boarding call echoing over the speakers. “Take care, okay Ali?” Mel pleaded. “I’ll be back at the end of January, and you better not have been killed by that ghost.”
Ali laughed. “She doesn't mean any harm, Mel. I told you that.”
“Yes but you also should have told me she existed before I came to stay with you.” Mel drew back from the hug, giving Sam a reproachful but warm glare.
“I know. And I’m sorry.” Ali pouted, putting on her best puppy eyes. “Can you forgive me?”
“Now that I’ve had time to calm down, and only because Mrs. Beaty is Sam’s biggest cheerleader, yes.” She smiled, reaching out to pat Sam’s arm and then Ali’s. “But I will never step foot in that house ever again. And neither will my son.”
Which meant Ali could never have her nephew come to visit. Or her sister. It made her sad. “What if we exorcised the ghost?”
“Only if you can prove the damn thing isn’t still lingering in the floorboards, and even then, I don't know that I’ll ever feel safe there. I hate you living there.”
Ali nodded, hugging her sister again. “I know.”
“I gotta go,” Mel said. “We can talk on the phone, okay?”
“Okay. Have a safe flight.”
“We will. And I’ll see you soon.”
“I’ll tell Mrs. Beaty to keep your room warm for you.”
Mel smiled sweetly, picking up Charlie's hand to make him wave. Sam stepped up beside Ali and put his arm around her, waving as they walked away.
“So?” Ali prompted, stepping to Sam’s stride so they could walk arm in arm. “What are you going to do with all those extra hours you’ll have when you're not at work?”
His arm tightened around Ali, giving her all the answers she needed. Sam had said he wanted to paint full time now, but Ali knew he wanted more time with her as well. He’d worked his whole life and, now, he’d earned a little time to take it easy. Ali liked that he’d be doing that with her.
“Will you paint me?” she asked.
“Paint you?”
“Yeah. A portrait.”
“Can I paint you nude?”
Ali laughed. “No.”
“Then why would I paint you?”
She gave him a little slap on the arm. “Fine. Don’t then.”
Sam pulled her closer to kiss her head. “Yes, Ali. I’d love to paint you. And since you asked, I suppose that means you don't mind that I already did.”
They stopped walking. “You did?”
“A while ago.” He nodded, putting his hands shyly in his pockets. “You’re so oblivious to anything when you’re writing. I sketched you when you weren't looking and . . .” He shrugged. “The rest is history.”
Her face opened up in surprise. “Is it finished? Can I see it when we get home?”
“No.”
“No it’s not finished or no I can't see it?” Ali followed Sam as he walked away. “Sam!”
“No,” was all he said, laughing to himself.
***
Ali opened the front door to Di’s smiling face, which vanished behind a giant cake with yellow frosting. “Thought you might be hungry.”
“Not sure what gave you that idea,” Ali said, a little confused as Di made her way into the kitchen, uninvited but not unwelcome.
“I saw Sam out in the garage painting again and I said to myself, I said, ‘Self, I bet that young girl is just sitting over there all alone and could use a piece of cake.’” Di smiled, placing the cake down and getting out a knife. “And I thought to myself, it might be a nice time to pop by and see what your plans are for New Year’s.”
“Ah-ha,” Ali muttered to herself.
“Are you going away with Sam, or staying home?”
“Going away with him?”
“He goes away every year about this time. Comes back late January.”
“Sam didn't mention it,” Ali said, sitting down at the island counter with the pot of coffee she’d just made. “Where does he go usually?”
“No one knows.” Di leaned in to whisper. “It’s his birthday, see—twentieth of January. He doesn't like anyone fussing over him so he leaves town.”
Ali grinned. She’d never thought to ask when his birthday was and just assumed someone in town would let her know when it got close. “Well, as far as I know, there are no travel plans. And we were planning a night in for New Year’s—”
“Oh, you can’t do that, petal.” Her face took on a serious expression. “It’s one thing if you’re not here, but folks’ll be expecting you at the street party if they know you're home.”
“And we’ll be there, Di,” Sam said in his deep bass voice, kissing Ali on the head as he entered the room. His shirt was splattered with rainbow dots of oil colors and he smelled strongly of mineral turps. Ali loved that smell. But she loved the smudge of blue paint on his eyebrow, unnoticed by him, even more. It meant he’d been so focused on his craft that he forgot about everything around him.
“So you’re not gonna disappear on your birthday this year?” Ali probed.
Sam scolded Di with a hard look, not unlike the one he gave Ali the first time he ever saw her.
“Don’t blame me.” Di put both hands up defensively. “She twisted my arm with that pretty face of hers; forced me to tell her.”
He looked at Ali and she gave him a cute grin, to which he returned a wary smile. As he cast his eyes randomly out to the pouring rain then, they narrowed in confusion. At first, he thought he saw a tree out there that hadn’t been there before, but when he looked closer, his blood ran thin and suddenly made him weak. For a moment, he forgot anyone was in the room with him, as if he floated out there to the hard-packed snow without feeling it.
“What’s wrong?” Ali said, her eyes guided to the hillside by Sam’s squint. Di turned too, but there was nothing out there except rain and the fog that had swept in off the hills with the cold.
“Uh . . . nothing.” Sam dropped another quick kiss on her head and left the room, taking the pile of mail off the counter with him.
Ali looked at Di, who watched Sam as he left, chewing the inside of her cheek in that way Ali knew meant she was holding on to some gossip.
“What do you think that was all about?” she prodded.
“She loved the rain,” Di said, serving up a piece of cake.
“Who?”
“His late wife.” She made the sign of the cross over her body with the cake knife still in hand. “Every time it rained you’d find her out there” —Di nodded to the stream— “umbrella in hand, staring up at the trees. From the look on his face—like he’d seen a ghost—my guess is that’s exactly what he saw.”
Ali smiled, wondering if that was the case, if maybe he had seen her out there—either her ghost or perhaps her memory.
“How’s he doing?” Di asked, offering Ali a sympathetic look. “After everything that happened with Grant Pryce?”
Everyone knew about the case brought against Grant. Every
one knew he’d tried to drug Ali and gotten away with it, but no one knew anything about what he did to Sarah. That was buried so deep in the past Ali wasn't sure he’d ever be held accountable for it. People were sympathetic to her mostly, although there were a few sour faces that insisted she was lying. Grant had grown up here, and Ali was an out-of-towner, a Leaf Peeper, a trouble causer. But those few people were rarely seen, if ever. All the people that mattered to her, and to Sam, believed what they’d heard.
“He’s good,” she lied, but Sam had been reserved and withdrawn since Christmas. Ali guessed that seeing hard proof of Sarah's presence here had spooked him in ways she was yet to understand. He hadn’t mentioned Grant, so Ali had to fumble a bit to answer Di’s question. “We never expected him to be put away so it was no surprise that they let him out, but there’s just so much bad blood between them, you know. Sam's gonna need time to move past it all.”
“And he has a lovely girl by his side as he does.” She reached over and patted Ali’s hand. “Now, let’s eat this cake before it eats itself.”
“In this house, that’s not entirely impossible.”
Di looked confused, until the penny dropped. “Oh, you mean because of the ghost?”
“Yes.”
They both laughed. For a while they sat talking about ghosts as they ate, which left Ali a little spooked, so Di moved the topic on to the marquee she planned to hire for the street party and the outdoor heaters they used each year to stop people from getting frostbite out there in the snow. The New Year’s party sounded amazing to Ali, beautiful like a winter wonderland, and she couldn't wait for tomorrow night.
As she walked Di to the door and said good-bye, the smell of smoke caught her attention. It wasn’t like the gassy smell of the press-button ignition in the parlor fire; it wasn’t like the thick, woodsy smell of burning paper in the bedroom fire; it was the blocked, sooty scent of a chimney that hadn’t been cleaned in years.
“Sam?”
“Yeah,” he called from his bedroom.
“Did you just light a fire?”
“No. Why?”
Ghost in the Pages Page 18