The Spirits of Christmas (2 page)

“Oh,” Akira said with relief. “When are you due?”

The woman put a hand on her great mound of belly. She could
have swallowed a basketball. Or maybe even a beach ball. The big kind.

“In a few weeks,” she said briefly. “May I help you with
something?”

“I’m not due until June.” Akira patted her own stomach. Her
bump was barely noticeable, she knew. She wasn’t even wearing maternity clothes
yet. “Still, if you stay in Tassamara our kids will start school together.”

“Really?” The woman’s stiff expression melted into delight.
“How nice. Please, come in.” She unlatched the screen door and opened it,
waving Akira inside.

“Ooh, well done,” Rose said with approval, clapping her
hands together gently. “Now just talk about babies a bit to soften her up.”

“Hmmph.” Akira couldn’t see the mean old lady ghost, who
must have been standing behind Rose, but she knew that had to be her. “She
don’t need softening. She needs to get out.”

“Now, Hannah,” Rose started, but Akira ignored them as she
followed the other woman into the living room. She glanced around curiously.
She hadn’t come into the house when Meredith had brought her by but it was
attractive, with smoothly painted walls, polished wood floors, and modern
double-pane windows. The furniture, though, looked like rejects from Goodwill,
including a square-edged plaid sofa that must have been new in the 1970’s, a
battered coffee table, and a patched armchair. Cardboard boxes, some open, some
still sealed, were stacked in the corners of the room. A small artificial
Christmas tree sat on a side table, its branches heavy with ornaments that were
too big for it.

 “We’re a little…well.” The woman waved her hand at the
boxes as if to apologize for them, before saying, “Can I get you something?
Tea? Coffee?”

“Tea would be wonderful, thank you,” Akira answered, sinking
down onto the couch. The cushions had worn away and it felt like sitting on a
rock, but she smiled as the woman nodded and hurried away.

The little boy had followed them in and stood in the
doorway, thumb firmly planted in his mouth, staring at Akira as if she had two
heads.

“Hi,” Akira tried, feeling shy and a little awkward. She’d
never dealt with children much.

Wait.

She’d never dealt with children at all. She tried to
remember if she’d ever even spoken to a boy his age.

Oh, shit.

Her breathing suddenly became shallow, the gasps of an
impending panic attack hovering, as she tried to recall one occasion—just one,
any time in her life, in her whole entire life—that she had ever spoken to a
child as small as the one that was staring at her.

And she was going to be a mother? She was going to be
responsible for nurturing a person that size? It was brain freeze. Like the
panic felt in nightmares about final exams for classes you didn’t know you were
taking or walks down Main Street naked.

She knew she didn’t whimper. Her throat was far too closed
off for that.

“Cut it out. Akira, stop it.” Rose’s words finally
penetrated Akira’s fog of fear.

“I can’t have a baby,” Akira mumbled. “I don’t know anything
about kids. I don’t know how to be a mother. I didn’t even have a mother. She
died when I was tiny. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how—ow.”

The sizzle as the ghostly energy passed through her head
felt like an electric shock, only cold. She put her hand up to her cheek.
“Ouch,” she repeated.

“You needed it,” the old woman ghost said, entirely without
sympathy. “Don’t be stupid. People have children all the time. You’ll be fine.”

Akira worked her jaw. Shit. That hurt. It wasn’t like a
physical hit—she wouldn’t bruise—but the pain lingered.

“Da mean yady hit you,” the little boy said.

“She sure did,” Akira answered, rubbing her face.

“Mama can’t see heah.” The boy tilted his head to the side,
as if considering whether or not to pay the asking price at an auction. Akira
wondered what was on sale and whether it was her.

Warily, she said, “Most people can’t. She’s a ghost.”

His eyes went wide, wider than nature had already left them.
“Like Caspah?”

The smile tugged at her cheeks but she kept her face
straight as she answered, “Maybe more like his cousins. Or brothers. Whoever
those other mean ghosts are.” She didn’t look at Hannah, but she heard her
harrumph of disapproval.

“And da pwetty yady?” he asked eagerly.

“Rose,” she answered. She glanced over at the girl ghost,
wondering why Rose hadn’t introduced herself to the boy.

Rose shook her head. “He can’t hear us,” she said quietly. “Seeing
us will pass, probably soon.”

“Yike da fyower?” he asked.

Akira nodded.

“She’s pwettier dan dem,” he said. “She should be a daisy.”

Rose laughed and patted her blonde hair. “Tell him roses
smell better,” she suggested to Akira, before blowing a kiss to the boy.

Akira passed along the message as the boy’s mother came back
into the room, a teapot in one hand, and the handles of two mugs looped around
her other index finger.

Hannah snorted. “Not even a tray. And she’ll chip the dishes
carrying them like that.”

“Do you take milk or lemon?” The woman asked.

“Black is fine,” Akira responded as the woman set the pot on
the table. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No.” The woman put the mugs down with a slight clatter. “Is
it that obvious?”

“Southerners think tea is a cold drink with lots of ice and
lots of sweetener,” Akira answered her. Drat. She’d guessed as much already,
but if the woman had been a local, telling her the truth—that her house was haunted
by an unfriendly ghost—might have worked.

“Is that what you wanted?” About to sit down, the woman
paused, looking dismayed. “I can get some ice.”

“No, no.” Akira shook her head. “I’m not from here, either.
I like my tea hot.”

“Oh, where are you from?” Within seconds, they’d introduced
themselves and were chatting, about the south, about Tassamara, about babies. The
woman, Nora, was friendly but reticent. She seemed eager to talk about the town,
reluctant to reveal anything about herself.

“So how did you know I was pregnant?” Nora finally asked.

Akira blinked, not sure what to say.

“Oh, she thinks you came by to meet her because you’re both
having babies. That would have been right nice of you,” Rose said, nodding approval.

“Meredith mentioned it.” Akira felt her cheeks turning pink
at the lie. She leaned forward, setting her half-empty mug on the table.

“Meredith?” Nora questioned, taking a sip of her tea, long
brown fingers wrapped around her mug.

“Your realtor?”

Nora shook her head.

“Did you work with someone else from her office?” Akira’s
voice didn’t squeak. In fact, she was pleased with herself for the calmness of
her response.  

“I didn’t work with anyone,” Nora said, frowning.

“How did you rent the house?” Oh, dear. Akira felt like she
was digging a hole, deeper and deeper. Lying was always such a bad idea.
Avoiding tricky questions worked so much better.

“I . . . know the owner.” Nora’s words were careful, but
Akira noticed how her fingers had tightened on the mug.

Akira lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I guess I just
assumed,” she said quickly. “It’s such a small town. Everyone knows everything.
Have you had a chance to try the bistro yet?”

Nora’s eyes were wary. “No, we haven’t gotten out much.”

Toby had been leaning against her leg, listening to the
conversation and watching Akira with a curiosity that she had been trying to
ignore. Nora put a gentle hand on his head, stroking the dark fuzz as if it
soothed her.

“Maggie’s a wonderful cook. She makes incredible eggplant
parmesan.”

Nora’s answering murmur was noncommittal. She lifted her mug
to her lips.

“Good waffles, too,” Akira added with a smile directed at
Toby.

“She know da mean yady. And da pwetty yady. Da pwetty yady’s
named aftah a fwower.” Toby suddenly volunteered.

Nora’s mug jerked convulsively. “Is that what you were
talking about?” she asked with pretended ease.

“Uh-huh.” Toby looked up at his mother. “Da mean yady hit
heah and it hurt,” he said in a whisper so loud that Akira was sure it could be
heard down the street.

“Okay.” Nora smiled down at him. But her eyes, when she
raised them to Akira, shot daggers. “Why don’t you go find your trains,
darling? I think Edward might have been in that last box I opened.”

“Da one in da kitchen?” Toby asked, sounding hopeful.

“That’s right.”

With a jubilant, “Yay, Edward,” he pushed himself away from
her and ran off.

“How old is he?” Akira asked, hoping she sounded polite, not
panicked. “He seems very verbal.”

“Are you insane?” Nora’s whisper was much quieter and much,
much angrier. “Bad enough that he imagines mean people living with us, but you
go and tell him that the mean people hit you? Do you want him to have
nightmares?”

Akira opened her mouth. Then she closed it. Then she tried
again. “That’s not what happened.”

“Was he lying?” Nora sounded calmer, sadder, as if a ‘yes’
would be nothing more than she expected.

Akira paused. Hell. She hated this. She glanced at Rose, who
nodded encouragingly, and with a sigh, said, “No. Not really.”

Nora set her mug down with a sharp thud. “What is that
supposed to mean?”

“Your house is haunted.” Akira knew as soon as she said it
that it was too blunt, that Nora wouldn’t react well, and she was right.

Nora half-laughed and then her face hardened. “I don’t know
how you found us, but I’m not stupid enough to fall for this. Get out.” She
stood up.

Akira didn’t move. “Hannah, the ghost who lives here,
doesn’t want tenants,” she said, keeping her voice even with an effort. She
hated this, hated it with a passion, and she was so going to yell at Rose when
they got home. But she’d done these negotiations before. Once a ghost sucked
her in to trying to help it, it was easier to just keep going. 

“About time you told her so,” Hannah snapped. Akira had
successfully ignored the old woman’s complaints while she’d talked to Nora, but
she’d been aware of them. Hannah was determined that Nora and Toby should
leave.

“Not helpful,” Rose muttered, looking worried.

“Hannah?” Nora looked startled and then her lips firmed and
she said, enunciating every letter, “Hannah can go to hell. And you can join
her there. Get out of my house.”

Akira blew out a long breath. For a moment, she sat and thought
while Nora glared at her. And then she stood. Hannah hadn’t known Nora in life
so no private information could convince her of the truth of Akira’s words.
Without that, what did Akira have? Just Toby. And using the boy to persuade his
mother that ghosts were real seemed unfair.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hannah sounded angry and
Akira glanced in her direction. Edges pink, but nothing to worry about. The
ghost was nowhere close to losing control.

“I don’t know how to convince you,” Akira said, turning away
from Hannah and back to Nora. “But it’s a small town. If you decide you need
me, ask anyone.”

“I won’t need you.” Nora gestured toward the front door,
scorn in every line of her body.

Akira tried to smile. “You never know.”

Once on the sidewalk, she sighed.

“That didn’t go well.” Rose was right behind her.

“The making friends part started off okay.” Akira kicked at
a crack in the pavement, feeling gloomy. She’d never found it easy to make
friends, but her ten minutes of casual conversation with Nora had been nice. The
other woman had shown a natural warmth and wry humor that Akira enjoyed. 

“You need to tell her to get out,” Hannah hissed. She’d
followed them out, too, and was standing next to Akira’s car. “I don’t want
them here.”

Akira’s eyes narrowed. She looked at the distance between
the car and the porch, trying to measure how far apart they were. She’d assumed
that Hannah was tied to her house in the way that ghosts who died untimely
deaths tended to be. Was she wrong?

“Why not?” she asked. “They seem as if they’d be good
company. The boy can even see you.”

“This house belongs to my son,” Hannah snapped. “No one
else.” She crossed her arms over her chest, half hostile, half defensive at
revealing so much.

Akira refrained from rolling her eyes. “Your son has been
trying to rent it out for at least a year,” she said, mustering all the
patience she could manage. “Why can’t you be happy for him that he’s finally found
someone to pay a few bills?”

Hannah glared. “He hasn’t visited once. Not once. And I need
. . .” She looked away, but Akira had already caught sight of the tears in her
eyes.

“Oh, hell.” Akira stuffed her hands into the pockets of her
jeans and hunched her shoulders. “You could leave any time, couldn’t you?”

“I’m not going until I’ve said good-bye.” Hannah grated out
the words through clenched teeth. “And…” She swallowed and said in a much
smaller voice, “…and apologized.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Akira saw a flicker of
movement at the window. She looked back at the house. Nora was watching them. Well,
or her, anyway. Great. Not that their chance of real friendship had ever been
high, but being seen talking to herself on the sidewalk couldn’t help.

Still, it gave her an idea. “Okay, but you don’t need Nora
and Toby gone. What you want is for your son to come home, right?”

Hannah nodded stiffly.

“Zane can find anybody,” Akira said with confidence. “You
leave Nora and Toby alone and he’ll find your son. We’ll make him visit you.”

 “How will you get him here?” Hannah asked, her suspicion
clear.

“Leave that to us,” Akira said. “Do we have a deal?”

Hannah pursed her lips. “Two weeks,” she said finally. “I’ll
give you two weeks.” She pointed back at the house melodramatically. “After
that, I will do my best to make her existence hell on earth.”