44: Book Six (18 page)

BOOK: 44: Book Six

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Lost, lost, lost.

Lost in the blinding blizzard of his love, never to be found.

CHAPTER 57

Ty and Kate helped me in the kitchen and while it didn’t take us until New Year’s to get it cleaned up, it did take a long time. It was after two in the morning when we loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

I was exhausted. After Ty left, I said goodnight to Kate and threw myself in bed.

I soon fell gently, like the snowflakes outside my window, down, down, down into a deep sleep…

***

The smell hit me like a train.

It was intoxicating.

Chocolate chip cookies.

Just out of the oven.

Just like Mom used to make.

It smelled like home, so very long ago.

The happiness of the house filled me with its warmth. I breathed it in as I stood in the kitchen. I walked over to the stove and watched the steam rising off the cookies and reached out to grab one.

But the voices stopped me.

The voices of children, coming from the living room.

My heart pounded as I crept out and saw the giant Christmas tree in the far corner. Green and bright and full of life. Full of color. Colors I could see, blinking and beautiful. Red, green, blue, orange. Purple. A huge glittering gold star on top and a large stuffed Santa underneath. Two red stockings were hanging above the fireplace.

There were two kids sitting under the tree, surrounded by boxes and boxes of opened toys.

I stepped closer, desperate to see their faces. Trying to see Kate’s long ponytails and my dark hair.

Looking for Mom.

But it suddenly struck me that I wasn’t in our house. I was somewhere else. It wasn’t our living room. This one was enormous. I rubbed my head, trying to think of our Christmases of the past, if we had visited any relatives or friends. If we had celebrated somewhere else.

And now I could see that it wasn’t Kate and me sitting on the floor next to the tree.

“You can play with my fire truck if you want,” the younger boy said in a high voice.

“Maybe later,” the older one said.

I stared at them. I didn’t recognize them, but something was familiar. Maybe they were our cousins. Or maybe childhood friends from the past.

“Okay, boys, the cookies are ready!” a voice yelled from the kitchen. “Do you want milk?”

“Yes, Mrs. Morrison,” the older boy shouted.

The younger one kept playing.

“Hey, Nathaniel, Mrs. Morrison is asking if you want milk.”

My stomach dropped to the floor like an elevator falling fifty stories as I realized what I was watching and who I was seeing.

Suddenly, I felt his breath on my neck. I stood frozen in terror.

“Abigail,” he purred. “So good of you to join me here in my Christmas Past.”

It was the moment I had feared for more than a year now. Since the day he died.

Not a day went by that I didn’t think about seeing his ghost. I had dreaded it. This moment.

And here he was, standing right behind me.

I turned around slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, and found those cat eyes staring at me. Except for being a little pale, he looked exactly the same. His hair, as always, was slicked back into a neat, thin ponytail. I fought hard to hold back my scream.

“Stay away from me,” I said, my voice shaking as I took a step back.

He smiled.

“It was nice seeing you that night,” he said.

I shook my head, not knowing what he was talking about.

“That night. Remember?”

I still didn’t understand.

“It was when you were picking out your Christmas tree with your sister. I hope your Christmas was as nice as the tree you both chose.”

A chill swept through my body.

A plump woman emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray. She put it down next to the two boys and they said thank you at the same time.

“Ben, when can I play with your chemistry set?” the small boy asked, reaching for a cookie.

“In a few minutes,” the older one said. “We can do an experiment together.”

The ghost of Nathaniel chuckled, moving closer.