The Winter Spirit ARE (4 page)

“Did you ever google him?” I asked Elisa when we were in the kitchen that evening. We didn’t make a habit of providing dinner for residents during the low season, but since another snow storm was brewing I’d asked Owen and the others if they wanted to stay in tonight.

“Google who?” Elisa asked as she peeled potatoes.

“Our permanent guest.”

“Gabriel?” She glanced around but there were no reflecting surfaces nearby. I wasn’t entirely convinced he couldn’t hear us outside of mirrors, but it helped not feeling observed. “I did once. It came up with some Charles Dickens pages. I didn’t look any further. Why?”

“Hmm, no reason. Just wondering how he died, I guess.”

“I’m sure we could find out if we dug a bit deeper, but why not just ask him?”

I gave her a disbelieving look. “That has to be the most inappropriate question ever.”

“How did you die? I don’t know. I bet it’s never been asked before. Maybe he wants to talk about it.”

“Or next time I need to check the roof, he’ll lock me up in the attic for four hours. Again.”

“Aw, poor boo.” She squeezed my cheek and I was sure I heard a chuckle come from the pantry. “I’ll rescue you faster this time.”

I harrumphed at her and tossed the veggies for roasting with olive oil and herbs. I set them aside, waiting for the oven to heat, then coated the chicken breasts with the homemade parmesan crust, and set that aside too.

“You can go home now, if you want. I can finish up here.”

She dropped the last potato into the pot. “Are you sure? It’s not even five yet.”

“But it’ll start snowing soon. You should get going.”

“Well, if you’re sure. I might have a date tonight. If he doesn’t get snowed in.” Elisa grabbed hold of my arm to balance herself, stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “You’re the best boss,” she said.

“Stop, you’ll give Gabe ideas. Also, a date? What? Who with? Do I know him? Is he worthy of your awesomeness?”

She patted my arm. “You’re just too cute. And be nice to Gabriel. It can’t be easy being stuck here for so long.”

“Why
is
he stuck here?” I wondered, not for the first time.

And not for the first time, she said, “You should ask him.”

It was tempting. Gabe had just been a fixture of the house for so long I didn’t pay him any more mind than I did the creaking of the third step or the slight tilt to the upstairs hallway. Or well, there was the odd occasion he featured in some of my, um, private time. But that was normal right? A man couldn’t help what face popped up when he, uh, found a little stress relief.

Sometimes Gabe was dormant for months, and then he’d suddenly be around again. I never questioned it anymore since he didn’t scare the guests or do things I would’ve considered ghostly. It was nice to have him around, really. Company on the days I felt a little lonely. When he wasn’t locking Elisa and me in cramped spaces, anyway.

But for some reason, I was curious now. I aimed for my bedroom again, not wanting one of the guests to walk in on me talking to myself in the mirror, but a soft glow from the lounge to the right of the kitchen drew me in the opposite direction.

I found Owen in there, settled in one of the deep, comfortable leather chairs. He’d lit the fire I’d prepared earlier, and shadow and light danced over his delicate features. He had a longish face with a sharp nose, with intelligent brown eyes and the whitest hair.

“Can I get you anything?” I asked when he looked up.

“Do you have a minute?”

None of the food was actually cooking yet, so I nodded and stepped inside. He leaned forward in his seat and patted the one beside it. The two chairs were angled toward each other, facing the fireplace to the right of the door. The rest of the room had comfortable nooks with chairs close together, especially created for guests who wanted to hang out here, but still have some privacy.

The ones Owen had chosen were definitely the best seats, and because I rarely spent time in here, I gingerly sat on the edge of mine.

Owen smiled at me. “How have you been, Nate? I know I’m repeating myself, but it’s so good to see you.”

“I’m fine,” I said, a bit baffled. Hadn’t we gone over this? “I mean, life has been mostly hard work, but that’s how I like it, I guess.”

“Just work?” he asked. “How about…what was her name? The girl who answered the phone. Nice voice.”

“Elisa. She works here.” I shifted in my seat. “We’re not, um, together or anything.”

He nodded, and the smile on his face widened a bit more. “So no special girl in your life? Or, you know. Special boy?”

My cheeks flamed. “No. No one. What, um, about you?” I asked desperately, wanting to get away from this subject. “What brings you back here? I was sure when you left you’d be gone for good. You became a lawyer, right?”

“Yep.” He sat back and kicked one leg over the other, the picture of relaxation, but I saw his foot jiggle, back and forth, back and forth. A tell he hadn’t lost since childhood, apparently. “Did the big firm gig for a while, grew tired of it.” His eyes shifted away from mine and he cleared his throat. “Old Mr. Summers is retiring, I’m here to interview for possibly taking over his practice.”

My eyebrows flew up. “You’re moving here permanently?”

“That’s the idea.” He leaned forward in his seat.

“But it’s two days to Christmas,” I said. People didn’t move during Christmas, did they? Or do job interviews?

“Listen, Nate, I—” Owen reached for my knee at the same time the smoke alarm went off. I jumped out of my chair. I felt a little push, wind-milled my arms, and landed in Owen’s lap.

“Sorry,” I squeaked, and tried to scramble inelegantly upright again. Owen’s eyes twinkled and he gave me a little squeeze around the middle before helping me up.

“I left the oven on. There’s nothing in it though, so I just—” I raced out of the door, through the hallway and into the kitchen. There was definitely nothing burning, but I turned the oven off anyway. I pushed open the window so a gust of icy air could steal my breath away, and picked up a placemat to wave at the smoke alarm. Before I could give it a single waft, the alarm stopped. I frowned. Then peered in the oven. Squeaky clean as always. My eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Gabe, was that you?”

“Everything all right?”

I spun around to face Owen. “Uh, yeah. Must’ve been a fluke. I’ll call the electrician tomorrow, though. Don’t want to mess with smoke alarms.” Especially with a Christmas tree in the house, fake or not.

“Who’s Gabe?”

I bit my lip. “Hmm? What? I don’t know?” I tried to look busy.

Owen stared at me, then began to laugh. “Right,” he said. “So do you need some help in here?”

“Uh.” I glanced at the time. “Prep’s all done, so it’s just a matter of cooking everything.”

“Sure.” Owen hummed lightly to himself as he went to sit down while I turned on the gas cooker and put the large pot of potatoes carefully on top of the flame. I turned the oven back on and shoved the vegetables inside. “Do you have anything to drink?” he asked.

“In the fridge.” I hesitated. He was a guest, after all. “Let me get you something. What would you like?”

“Do you have any beer?”

“Uh, yeah. Oktoberfest okay?”

“Love it.”

I opened the bottle for him and handed it over. “Want a glass?”

“Nope.” He put the bottle to his lips and sucked at it.

“I’ll just go tell the others dinner will be served at six thirty,” I told him, and once again fled from Owen’s presence.

I sat in one of my rocking chairs that night, unable to sleep, listening to the trees outside my bedroom window groan under the weight of the additional snow. In the light of a soft lamp I pretended to finish a murder mystery, but my mind kept wandering until my lamp flickered and went out. My room didn’t go entirely dark thanks to the Christmas lights covering the outside of the house, but I was annoyed anyway.

“Really?” With an exasperated sigh, I closed the book. “Even after all these years, you’re still going to try that trick?”

“You’re the least fun person to haunt,” Gabe said from much closer than I’d ever heard him in my room.

“What the fuck?” I reached for the lamp and flicked it on. To my surprise, it worked.

Gabe was sitting in the other rocking chair, staring out of my French doors. I never closed those curtains in the winter, because it stayed dark for so long, and it wasn’t as if anyone could see in from the lake.

“Your language is terrible,” Gabe said.

“And after twelve years that still shocks you.” I rolled my eyes. A little silence fell and I peered at him. “I didn’t know you could do that.” I waved my hand in his direction as he gently rocked back and forth.

Gabe gave me a wry smile, the kind I was unaccustomed to from him. “A few nights a year,” he said. “I don’t bother anymore these days, because I don’t…” He looked away and stared out of the window for a while, then murmured, “You sure about liking that Owen fellow, Nathaniel?”

I stared at him. He’d never called me by my name. Not ever. And he was sitting in my chair. I’d never seen more of him than his head and shoulders, but there he was. Not quite see-through, but not quite solid either. As if the light from my lamp spilled through him rather than over him.

He was much taller than I thought.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He shrugged and looked a little mulish. “I don’t think I like him.”

“Well,” I began hesitantly. “Is it important that you like him? I mean, he’s only going to be here for a few days. You can just avoid him, can’t you?”

“I could. But then I might not—” He stood abruptly and went to stare into the darkness. Could he see his own reflection?

“Then why’d you push me into his lap?” I wiggled my finger at him. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

The right side of his mouth curled up, but he looked sad.

“Gabe—riel?” I tried, getting a little worried. “Are you…is everything all right?” I felt like a total tool asking a ghost if he was okay. I climbed to my feet when he didn’t answer. I went to stand beside him, my feet buried deep into the thick rug, my senses straining to see if I could pick up anything from him. There was nothing. No scent, no warmth, no chill. My eyes could be deceiving me and I could be all alone in my room. But the one thing that was undeniable was the tidal wave of sadness rolling off him. “Gabriel?” I tried again.

He turned slightly and his gaze swept over me. He had his hands clasped behind his back, his suit as crisp and clean as always, making me feel very self-conscious in my pajamas that were a little too tight around the middle. His eyes were bright blue, the most solid and real thing about him. He was more built than I always imagined.

“You’re a fine man, Nathaniel,” he said. His mouth lifted in a tiny smile as he looked at me, and his right cheek dimpled deeply. “Any woman, or man,” he conceded with an elegant dip of his head, “would be lucky to have you. But this Owen guy.” He shook his head and went back to staring out into the dark. I did the same, and saw my own reflection, but not his. “I don’t like him.”

“So you said.” I didn’t understand what he was getting at. Also, a fine man? For years he’d done a good job convincing me he didn’t like me much. “I’m sure he won’t stay too long. He has family here. He’ll be gone before Christmas and you probably won’t see him again.” Why did I care? I didn’t know.

He smiled at me again, but the dimple didn’t appear. “I guess so.” The outline of him shimmered, and he vanished into nothing.

“Gabriel?” I tried, to no response.

I fell asleep after that, but it was one of those restless nights, with half-remembered dreams that’d haunt me the entire day, lurking out of sight and making me uneasy and twitchy. I even screwed up the eggs for breakfast and had to start over, using up the last carton.

“I’ll need to go into town later,” I told Elisa. “Anything you want me to pick up?”

She peered out of the kitchen window, hands still in the soapy suds beneath it. “Can’t think of anything off the top of my head. But I’ll text you if I do.” She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Some Christmas cheer maybe. Everyone looks like they’ve been told no presents this year.”

I risked a peek at the table behind us, where Owen, Mrs. Anderson, and Mr. Houzer sat in subdued silence. Darkly encircled eyes bore witness to their own restless night.

“What’s up with them?” I asked under my breath.

“Beats me, but I have to say, you don’t look much better. Did you sleep okay?”

Had everyone slept badly? And if they had, was it because of Gabriel? Maybe his mood could affect us all, in some way. No, that was ridiculous. I tilted my head toward the pantry and Elisa dried her hands and followed me in.

“Leave it open?” she asked.

“No, close it. It’ll be fine.”

She gave me a curious look, amusement and concern dancing in her eyes. Turning toward the little mirror, I said, “Gabriel?” When nothing happened, I started to tell her about last night.

“So he was there? Like, completely?” Elisa’s eyes were wide. “I’ve never seen him in anything other than a mirror. Although he has to be able to move around. I mean he rearranges my linens sometimes. And this one time I nearly dropped a bottle of perfume on one of the guest’s bathroom floor and he caught it. There it was, floating in midair. I can tell you that was probably the only time he really freaked me out.”