In Love With a Haunted House (Contemporary Romance) (9 page)

All the color leached from Jim’s face. He bent over double and Blake heard a funny little crackle that he could’ve sworn—and sincerely hoped—was caused by the starch in the crotch of his slacks. If that wasn’t the starch, the man was in a lot more trouble than Blake had originally assumed. He didn’t like the guy simply because of what he had done to Mallory but any guy could sympathize with the dude who just had a ghost kick him in the crotch with a whole house behind its weight.

The squeaky little cry that issued from Jim’s lips was eerily like the squeak of a mouse and Mallory looked around and said, “Gee, thanks, Ms. Lewis.”

The men who had been working in the house had heard the confrontation and come to see what was going on. They were standing in the hallway behind Mallory and Blake and all of them were obviously empathetic to Jim’s injury. One even dropped his hands to his crotch and looked around suspiciously as if he were afraid that he might be next.

Blake said, “I don’t think the house likes you, Jim. If this house doesn’t like you then you don’t stand a chance and if I were you I think I’d hit the bricks before I got myself another hard kick.”

Jim managed to squeal out, “What’s just happened? I’m going to sue you!”

Blake and Mallory were saved from having to answer by one of the men behind them saying, “I don’t think you can sue a ghost but you’re welcome to try. Everyone knows this house is haunted and old Ms. Lewis, well, she was a sly one.” He directed a look at the ceiling and added, “No offense meant.”

Mallory watched Jim hobble down the stairs and the walkway towards the street. Blake’s arm remained around her and she relaxed into his body, wondering exactly what it was that had brought Jim to the house on this day.

That question was answered pretty quickly though when her mother pulled up into the driveway next door and Jim spotted her. Cara gave him a friendly little wave and called out, “Did you enjoy your visit?”

“Your mother is quite vindictive when she wants to be, isn’t she?” Blake asked as Mallory began to giggle.

“It seems that way. I guess that’s a warning to you not to get on her bad side.”

“I think I am more afraid of my grandmother than your mother but God knows I don’t want to make either of them angry.”

“Come on, sweetie, let’s get back to work. I want this house done by Christmas.”

Blake said, “Me too. I think this is going to be the best Christmas in history and I want everything to be perfect.”

The seasons had changed. Winter had blown in on its usual blustery gales. The live oaks that had given the house its name had shed most of their leaves but not all. The long strands of Spanish moss had died, and fallen from the limbs. Blake had raked up giant piles of it and they had used it and small branches to create beautiful homemade wreaths that hung from the oak trees, beckoning visitors onward toward the house. The grass was going dormant but the azaleas and the red camellia bushes bloomed, bringing bright splashes of color to the yard.

Gray Oaks was lit up with Christmas lights and the sound of laughter rang out in the rooms. Blake had just finished putting a giant star on the top of the huge artificial tree he had brought home the day before and the smell of cinnamon and roasting meat filled the air.

Mallory came into the living room with a cup of hot mulled wine and passed it to him. He looked down at it and asked, “Should I be having this?”

“Of course you should, silly. I’m the one that’s pregnant, not you.”

“Now this is true.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, letting his fingers stroke her slightly rounded belly. “Wow, would you look at this place? It looks so different.”

“Yes, it does.”

The floors were repaired, the walls painted and the ceilings gleamed with fresh molding and light fixtures. The furniture had been replaced but the paintings of Shannon and her family remained, and alongside them hung pictures of Blake and his paternal family including his father. A wedding photo of Mallory and Blake was now on the wall too.

There was a hush in the air, a quiet expectancy that neither of them could fathom but still felt. Blake asked, “What time is everyone coming over?”

“In about an hour. I have the table all set already. Thank God my mother agreed to cook. I think I’m getting better though, that Hamburger Helper I made last night didn’t taste bad at all.”

Blake managed to say with a perfectly straight face, “No, it wasn’t bad at all.”

“You liar. You only ate it because you were starving and my mother would not let you have any more cookies.”

“You got me, I can’t deny it. It was not that your Hamburger Helper was bad, sweetheart; it’s just that your mother’s cookies are so dang good. It’s like they are magic cookies.”

“I said that Hamburger Helper wasn’t that bad, I never said that it was good. It was about halfway between good and bad. You don’t have to lie, you know.”

“Okay, maybe next time we should try actually cooking the noodles all the way through.” He ducked under her mock blows, laughing as he came back around her and captured her, pressing her into his arms. He kissed her again, a slow and soft kiss that made her whole body respond in a way she had never imagined possible when she was with Jim. “I love you whether your noodles are raw or cooked.”

“I love you too,” Mallory replied.

Blake ruffled her flame-hued hair. “I have to admit the best thing I ever did was try to buy this house.”

“Maybe it was fate,” Mallory suggested.

Blake said, “You know, I think it was. I just wish that they had had the chance to be as happy as we are.”

Oh, I wish the same thing. It’s so lonely here, George, even with these two beautiful people to light up the house. I miss you so, I think I miss you more every day. I’m staying here though, for as long as it takes. I said I would be here for you and I will be but I do wish you would hurry, George.

I’ve waited so long for our wedding, I’ve waited so long to touch your face and to put my hand in yours. To feel the press of your lips against mine once again. I know for us time isn’t the same, when you step out of your body and become spirit, time doesn’t matter anymore and I know you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting but it’s been so long, George.

I could use a Christmas gift, George, I could use some blessings this year. That girl lit candles in every window this year, did you see them, George? They’re burning and are not just burning so that the people who are still alive and who are coming to this house tonight can find their way in here but also that you can find your way home. Is that light enough, George, will you ever make it home to me?

“I have an idea.”

Blake asked, “What kind of idea?”

“Let’s call him.”

Blake cocked an eyebrow at her. “I don’t think it’s as simple as picking up the phone and saying hey, George, you’re a little late, old buddy.”

“No, but what if he just needs a little more guidance? Let’s try it. I know it sounds silly, but just humor me, will you? Come on, just yell out his name… Like this.” Mallory sucked in a huge breath and then released it in a loud and piercing cry, “George! George, come home, George!”

Blake did feel silly. While he absolutely believed that his grandmother was still in the house, he wasn’t so sure yelling at a dead man would help bring him to her, but if Mallory was going to engage in this little bit of foolishness then so was he. He was her husband and he would always have her back. He would always help her in any endeavor, no matter how silly it seemed. He raised his own voice, yelling in unison with her, “George! George, are you there? George, come home!”

After a few more minutes of shouting Blake was ready to give up. He swallowed down most of the cup of mulled wine to relieve the dryness in his throat that the shouting caused and said, “I’m sorry, hon. I just don’t think he’s going to show. Maybe he already crossed over, maybe he couldn’t help it. Maybe he just got sucked up like the people do when they get stuck in an alien tractor beam.”

“Are you comparing going to heaven with being sucked up into an alien spaceship?” Indignation was written all over Mallory’s expression. “And on Christmas!”

He tweaked her cute little upturned nose, “I would never dare. I was making an analogy. But think about it, Mallory. Maybe that is exactly what happened. Maybe because he died in battle he got taken straight up and he never had a chance to make his way home again. Maybe it isn’t George that needs to come home, maybe it’s Shannon that needs to go home.”

Just then the front door blew open, bringing in a gust of wintry air and the scent of hyacinth mixed with lilies. The wind tore along the hallway and Blake and Mallory looked at each other, their eyes wide.

Blake asked, “Is that…”

“I think so,” Mallory breathed.

“Oh, there you are, what took you so long?”

That question was spoken aloud and the voice asking was young, strong and clear. Blake pushed Mallory behind him in a protective gesture that made her laugh and say, “It’s fine, silly. I want to see too!”

There wasn’t anything to see, really. The paintings on the wall trembled and the photograph of Blake’s father tilted then straightened as if a loving hand had set it at a precise angle.

They both felt it. They had always felt Shannon, although they had never really been aware that they were actually sensing her. Her presence drifted past them almost like an eddy of air. Blake felt fingers that rippled through his hair, sensing that they came from somewhere beside him, but were not Shannon’s.

As quickly as that touch landed on his head it was gone. The wind died down and the smell of flowers grew stronger, stronger and then the wind gusted up again, running in the opposite direction—out of the house.

The door shut, but quietly and the house settled around them, no less bright and warm than it had been before but yet they could feel the difference. Shannon was gone. George had finally been able to find his way back to her and they had gone wherever it was that lovers went after they were reunited after many years apart.

Mallory’s eyes filled with tears and she saw Blake trying to hide his own. Men, they always thought they had to be so strong!

“I think that was the best Christmas gift we could have gotten,” Mallory said softly. “It lets us know love always lasts, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Blake said. “But I have no intentions of being separated from you, darling, not ever.”

“Nor I you.”

He pointed upward, “Mistletoe.”

“I hope you do know that I would kiss you without that being there.”

“I do but since it is hanging up there in the doorway I intend to take advantage of it.”

Their laughter rang out onto the street and Shannon Lewis paused, her hand securely in George’s, and looked back at her house. “I think Gray Oaks will be a far happier place for the next hundred years, George, what do you think?”

“I think it’s found its new family.” He gave her a long kiss and said, “Come on—we don’t want to be late for our wedding, do we?”

Shannon laughed and allowed herself to be pulled off the earthly plane and into one where the love that she had held onto in life lived on and on forever.

In childhood I observed a huge love between my mother and father and promised myself that one day I would meet a man whom I would fall in love with head over heels. At the age of 16, I wrote my first romance story that was published in a student magazine and was read by my entire neighborhood. I enjoy writing romance stories that readers can turn into captivating imaginary movies where characters fall in love, overcome difficult obstacles, and participate in best adventures of their lives. Most of the time you can find me reading a great fiction book in a cozy armchair, writing a romance story in a hammock near the ocean, or traveling around the world with my beloved husband.

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Kate

www.KateGoldmanBooks.com