Little Red Gem (8 page)

“
When I came in you were
whispering. Who were you whispering to?”

She stared out the window
longingly. “His name is William Tisk.”

There were two ghosts in
this cabin? Had they been here a week ago when Leo, Simon, and
Thomas had written songs for their demo? Had they been here when
I’d shown up seeking answers to a question I should never have
needed to ask? A shiver tickled my spine at how none of us had
noticed the presence of these ghosts. But why would we? Until this
morning, I wasn’t aware that ghosts were real.

Anne’s face suddenly
brightened. “I recognize you. You were upset the night I last saw
you. I did not mean to spy on you but the curtain was open. I do
hope you are better.”

“
Hardly,” I answered,
regretting my tone but unable to stop the harshness. “I died. I
wouldn’t call that better.”

“
No, you are quite right.
That is not better.”

Anne got up and glided
over to the window. She stared outside, her expression appeared
wistful. Night birds squawked and I shuddered. Not from cold but
from life’s echoes clutching at me. The wind blew outside and
rattled the windows and door. Anne’s eyes widened in terror and
Audrey’s words immediately rushed to mind – poltergeist, malevolent
spirit, demon!

I spun to see a young man
standing in the doorway. He was so opaque he had to be a ghost. His
face was soft and pale, gentle and kind, and somehow I knew he was
ancient, like Anne. He had dark hair that fell to his shoulders. He
wore old fashioned riding boots and a long coat.

He’s too gorgeous to be a
demon, I thought, which in keeping with my recent string of bad
luck meant he probably was.

The stranger didn’t pay me
any attention. His gaze was locked onto Anne’s. “My
love.”

“
No, you mustn’t,” Anne
cried. She took a step toward him and stopped; as if struck by an
invisible wall.

The ghost leaned deeper
into the cabin. “But I must.”

His hand reached toward
her, she reached toward him, and I was fascinated by the
voyeuristic thrill of a romantic interlude.

Then the front door
slammed shut in his face with a loud
bang
.

“
Is that William?” I
asked.

“
Yes.”

The shine in her eyes
glistened like crystals, however, no tears spilled. I wondered why
I was able to cry and she was not.

“
So is he your lover, your
boyfriend, your husband?”

I was rewarded with a
gentle smile. “William is my fiancé.”

She returned to the
armchair and sat so primly I almost felt guilty for indulging in my
favorite pastime of slouching. But death couldn’t change everything
about me. “You two obviously died a long time ago. I don’t get why
the door slammed on him, though.”

“
I cannot leave this cabin
and William cannot enter.”

I sat up. “Are you telling
me you two are cursed?”

“
It appears
so.”

“
How long ago did you two
die?”

She stood up abruptly.
“I’d rather not dwell on the past.”

William’s voice seeped in
through the walls. “Please tell her, Anne. If only to listen to
your voice one more time.”

At least William knew his
beloved existed, I thought ruefully. I wished I had the ability to
connect with Leo the way these two ghosts were
connecting.

Anne hovered by the window
and I settled into the couch to listen to her tale. Pressing her
forehead against the cabin wall, and stroking a hand against the
spot on the wall where William sat on the other side, she said,
“William and I have known one another for a long time. During our
courtship, not a day went by where we did not talk about marriage,
children, a lovely cottage in the woods.”

From outside, William’s
deep baritone voice barked. “Horses to groom, fields to grow corn,
orchards to grow fruit to make pies.”

Anne tossed back her head
and laughed. “I have never baked a pie. Or planted a crop. Or
groomed a horse. Growing up, I had cooks and maids and stable hands
to do these chores. But I would gladly have done these things if I
could have had this wonderful life William painted for
me.”

I was beginning to
understand their situation. “I take it you were wealthy and William
was poor, and your folks weren’t too happy about your
relationship.”

William’s woeful sigh,
clearly audible through the planks of wood, added proof to my
statement.

“
My father only ever
wanted me to be happy. My step-mother was a different story.” A
hard edge crept into Anne’s voice. “She forbade any arrangement
that was not her own. William and I decided to elope.”

As she rested a gloved
hand on the window sill, a ghostly face materialized on the other
side of the window. A pane of glass separated the two lovers. That
had been me and Leo only a few hours earlier, and again it pained
me that, even if cursed, at least these two knew the other
existed.

Anne spun around to face
me and wore a brilliant smile. “Tell me about yourself and your
heart’s love. He was here that night in the cabin was he
not?”

“
Yes. His name’s
Leo.”

“
How did you two lovebirds
meet?”

“
I have always known Leo.
We were both born and raised in Providence. We’re the same age so
we’ve been in most of the same classes throughout school. I’ve had
a crush on him since I was six, after another boy broke my doll at
my birthday party and Leo fixed her for me. I don’t recall a single
day afterward when Leo hasn’t been inside my heart.”

“
He’s very handsome,” Anne
said discreetly.

“
He is handsome,” I
replied. “Plus, he’s a musician so that just adds to the hotness.
He played guitar in the school band for a few years until he set
his sights on a music career. Two years ago he talked Simon and
Thomas into forming a band with him. Their band is called
Volt.”

From outside, William
shouted, “They should be called
Re-
Volt.”

I laughed and decided I
liked these two, and if I have to be a ghost for all eternity, at
least I was in good company.

“
Good one,” I sang out.
“Leo’s tried countless times to get the others to agree to play
more meaningful songs. He says he outgrew the senseless noise when
he and I started dating, but he’s had a hard time convincing Simon
and Thomas. Leo was writing songs on the secret. In fact, we were
in competition with each other. Reach For The Stars is holding
auditions right here in Providence.”

When Anne gave me a blank
stare, I added, “The TV show?”

Her blue eyes narrowed and
then widened in recognition. “I know the one. Sadly, I only get to
watch TV when living people turn it on. Ooh, but I adore songs.
Please sing us the song you wrote for the audition.”

“
You haven’t finished
telling me your story.”

Anne frowned. “You will
learn that time is in no short supply here, so it is best to
stretch the stories out. Please sing for us.”

I curled my feet up under
me. “To be honest, I haven’t written anything. Writing about
someone you love isn’t so easy. Every time I start to compose the
words or the music, I’m overcome with failure. Like, nothing I say
can ever measure up to what I feel inside, and any attempt to put
what I feel into words just seems so inadequate.”

William’s face appeared in
the window. “Then I will sing for you:

“
November trees brace
‘gainst the winds

Leaves orange, red and
gold

Aspens glow, sunlight
beams

Upon path and
road

Hark, the song of busy
birds

Hail, shine or rain, they
toil

Make haste, before winter
maiden

Buries icy glove in
soil

November showers, autumn
winds

Bearing darkness down to
stay

Golden leaves, oh
acrobats

You twirl and hurry
away

In dead of night, black
bird sings

Mournful is her
chime

Death, she knows, flies
quietly

Black bird hurries, wastes
no time

Savage is the winter
kiss

All too quickly daylight
fades

Halo is a crown with
thorns

For those who seek out
Hades”

He finished singing and
Anne stood up and applauded. Rushing over to peer out the window, I
saw William was now hanging from a tree branch. I couldn’t stop
laughing. I also couldn’t stop the sense of guilt that washed over
me – I was laughing while Leo was crying.

I shook off the gloom, and
forced cheerfulness into my voice, telling myself I should stay
positive for Anne’s and William’s sake. After all, I was merely
dead – they were dead
and
cursed.

“
Okay, you’ve convinced me
a song from
this
century is in order. I’ll sing for you, on the condition you
continue with the story of how you and William met your
fate.”

I closed my eyes as if
sorting through my mental library and all I saw was the image of
Mom’s Jeep careening over the embankment. I choose to sing a tragic
ballad:

“
I am a cross

At the side of the
road

Covered in
flowers

Sweet roses of
gold

No more can I see
them

How that makes me
cry

At the side of the
road

Is forever where I
lie

I am a memory

Too painful for
some

Now others bring
flowers

I don’t know who they’re
from

Would I could I’d say
thank you

How that makes me
weep

At the side of the
road

Is forever where I
sleep

I am with
angels

In sweet heaven
above

There are those who don’t
know this

But I once found true
love

And always I’ll be
waiting

To again touch his
face

At the side of the
road

I found my resting
place.”

After I’d finished, my
cheeks felt warm and I figured, throughout the night I’d swiped at
the tears, now I should let them cascade like a river. If they ran
for long enough maybe they’d wear down through my flesh and bone to
form a crater-like dam, which would come in handy; I doubted the
tears would ever stop and I’d need somewhere to store
them.

The wind outside rattled
the shutters and I opened my eyes, hoping to view a different day
and feeling horrendously let down when I didn’t.

“
Such a sad song,” Anne
whispered. “Yet…beautiful at the same time.”

“
Thanks,” I said. “I got
an A+ in music. Teacher said I must be a reincarnation of John
Lennon.”

Anne tilted her head. “Oh.
You did not write that song about your own demise?”

“
No. Leo and I were
driving into Prospect, and on our way home the car hit an oily
patch on the road. We skidded. The car did a complete three-sixty.
Thankfully we didn’t crash into the oncoming cars, but we did end
up off the side of the road. We pulled over to let our heartbeats
return to normal, and there, staked into the ground was a wooden
cross with a bunch of flowers tied to it.”

Anne’s eyes lit up. “How
intriguing.”

“
It gets more so. There
was a newspaper clipping pinned to the cross. A young woman’s car
had run off the run and crashed into a tree. She’d died. The
flowers were from her lover.”

“
This is turning into a
tragedy.”

“
Agreed. But in a way it’s
also a very romantic story. The crash happened ten years ago and
the newspaper clipping said the lover vowed to return every year on
the anniversary of her death to replace the flowers. And every year
he’s returned, not only has he replaced the floral arrangement he’s
also carved the date into the cross. How’s that for true
love?”

No sooner had the words
left my mouth than an agonizing grief rammed into my chest. My
throat unlatched and a sob escaped. “Oh Leo, I’m sorry I
died.”

Anne rushed over to my
side and embraced me. We curled up on the couch, pressed up against
each other, and throughout the night my tears flowed. They
continued until light seeped in through the cracks.

I had survived my first
twenty-four hours as a ghost.

***

Now morning, Anne and I
had barely uncurled our feet from beneath our legs when Audrey
materialized through the closed doorway. She looked totally at home
wearing a black shift dress, leggings, gloves, and
beret.