The Ghost of Christmas Present

THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS
PRESENT

Jenny Massie
Lykins

Previous published 1997
Jenny Lykins by Berkley/Jove

Copyright 2013 Jenny Massie
Lykins Smashword Edition

Smashword Edition, License
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CHAPTER ONE

For the briefest of seconds, Alane
Travis thought she saw someone looking out the front window of the
rented mountain cabin. As she pulled the Jeep Cherokee into what
she hoped was the cabin's driveway, the headlight beams penetrated
the near-blizzard storm to sweep across frosty windows and
Christmas garland swagged over the porch and balcony
railings.

Stress and fatigue, she told herself.
And it was hard to see anything through that solid curtain of snow.
Besides, the rental company said the cleaning lady would be there
the day before to decorate a little. No one should be there
now.

Pulling her hood over her hair, she
ducked her head, climbed out of the car, then grabbed two bags of
groceries from the back seat. In a blur of white, she slogged
through snow up to her knees then knocked the worst of the slush
off her boots as she stomped across the porch.

The welcome warmth of the cabin
engulfed her the moment she stepped across the threshold. The
interior was just as she'd hoped. Rustic, homey, loaded with
personality. She could already feel the knots in her muscles
dissolving.

She found her way to the kitchen,
dropped the groceries onto the scarred wooden table, then trudged
out for another load. On her return trip with her suitcases, she
raised her head to find the porch steps in the virtual white-out
and thought she saw a movement in the window again.

Had it been a reflection of something
outside? Had the wind moved the curtain through a drafty
window?

A hard knot of fear curled in her
stomach and inched its way up her throat. Should she run? Should
she drop her suitcases and make a dash for the safety of the
car?

She reasoned with herself at the bottom
of the porch steps. If someone was in there, surely they would have
already shown themselves, whether they meant her harm or not. She’d
made a mountain out of a molehill. Was she going to let a drafty
window and fluttering curtain keep her from the much needed
vacation?

Stiffening her spine and straightening
her shoulders, she tightened her grip on the suitcases and mounted
the steps to the porch. She had to work on her painting, as well as
use this opportunity to make a decision about her and David. She’d
chosen to spend Christmas alone so she wouldn’t be distracted from
either her work or her decision-making, and she’d be darned if
she’d let a little gust of wind scare her away.

In the distance a country church bell
chimed eight o'clock. She sent up a little prayer, only half
jokingly, that she'd live through the night.

Showing more courage than she actually
felt, she kicked open the door and swung the Samsonite ahead of her
into the cabin, half expecting to see some psycho in a goalie mask
with a chainsaw in his hand. But if the goalie came after her, he'd
have to hack his way through the luggage to get at her.

The living room couldn't
have been more peaceful. Logs and kindling lay stacked in the
fireplace, waiting for the touch of a match. No shadows moved. The
house didn't
feel
like someone was hiding from her. She hauled her bags over to
the tiny staircase leading to the bedroom, then peered up the
stairs. The dark, gaping blackness at the top of the stairs was
anything but inviting, but she forced herself to haul the suitcases
up the creaking steps, then fumbled in the dark until she found a
light switch and flicked it on. She jumped a foot in the air, with
a scream, dropping her luggage, at the sight of something sprawled
across the bed.

“Oh, good grief!” Her heart raced
beneath the palm she’d clapped to her chest, and then a timid
little giggle escaped her throat.

The creature lurking across the white
eyelet bedspread was a fake bearskin rug with a cuddly teddy bear
head grinning blankly up at her.

“Way
too much imagination, Travis.”

She dragged her suitcases over to the
bed, then scanned her surroundings. The room took up the entire
second floor of the small cabin. Roomy, bright, and airy, it still
held a cozy, welcoming feel. An antique shaving stand stood in the
corner, complete with china pitcher and bowl and a matching chamber
pot beneath. An afghan-covered rocking chair sat in front of a set
of sliding glass doors that looked out on a small balcony and the
lake beyond. A telescope stood just inside the doors.

Alane flipped open her suitcases and
started to unpack, but before she stored her clothes in the antique
chest of drawers she decided she’d better put the groceries in the
refrigerator.

A little tingle at the back of her neck
kept her from moving at first. Then she turned a full circle,
scouring the room with her gaze, then dropped to her knees and
flipped up the bedskirt.

Not even a dust bunny stared back at
her from the shiny hardwood floor under the bed.

“Yep.
Way
too much imagination.”

Her knees popped as she stood, then the
floorboards and stairs creaked as she made her way to the first
floor.

The small kitchen held no space for
someone to hide in so she tiptoed to the bathroom and peeked around
the door.

Nothing.

"Looking for me?"

Alane started so violently she bounced
against the wall. Her hands flew to her chest as she backed away,
trying desperately not to faint at the sight of the man in front of
her...and the sight of the kitchen table showing hazily through his
body.

The last thing she remembered was the
feel of her body sliding down the wall.

Jared Elliott looked down at the
unconscious woman lying in a boneless heap on the floor. He guessed
he should have expected that sort of reaction, but for the life of
him - or the death of him - he'd never found a gentle way to reveal
himself to the living, in all his two hundred years.

The minute he'd caught a glimpse of
those disturbing, dark brown eyes, he'd known he would never remain
cloaked throughout her stay. And when she’d entered the house,
obviously terrified, and proceeded to investigate, he’d found
himself intrigued for the first time in decades. Had he ever
encountered a woman with so much independence? He wanted to meet
her, get to know her, and if she proved too afraid of him to stay,
then at least he would have the cabin all to himself
again.

The woman's lashes fluttered against
cheeks still pink with cold. Her eyes opened and she blinked at the
ceiling for a moment, causing two little vertical lines to mar the
perfection of her forehead.

"I mean you no harm," he said, and sank
to a kitchen chair to make himself less threatening. She shot
upright, all color draining from her face, then she scrambled
backward until she hit the bathroom wall. With enough force to tear
it off its hinges, she slammed the door in his face.

Jared smiled and shook his head. The
living could be so illogical.

"I truly mean you no harm," he said,
raising his voice just a little. "And even if that door had a lock,
you must know that I can walk through walls. I learned that in
House Haunting 101."

The door remained closed and total
silence virtually vibrated from the other side. Well, he couldn't
just leave her in there cowering on the floor.

He strolled to the door and decided not
to waste his limited energy in knocking.

"Hello? Are you decent?"

A faint scuffling behind the door was
his only answer.

He moved around to another wall, then
let his head and shoulders dissolve through the wood. She stood
with her back to him, facing the door, a bathroom plunger held over
her head as if it were a headsman's ax, ready to separate his head
from his shoulders. Little did she know he could already do that,
without the ax.

"Excuse me, but do you plan on using
that - "

The woman spun, slicing the plunger
through thin air. He flinched and dodged, a reaction left over from
his mortal days, even after all these years. Remembering himself,
he stepped through the wall and stood there with his arms crossed
while she swung at him like a blindfolded child swinging at a
piñata. Not until she began to tire did he bother to
speak.

"If you hadn't over-reacted, I was
going to tell you that you can't - "

She threw the plunger through his head
and it clattered off the wall to land in the bathtub. Yanking open
the door, she raced through the kitchen, the parlor and out the
front door, hesitating only a second before skidding down the steps
and doing a sort of loping, wading run through the snow to the
car.

Before she even climbed inside, he
moved himself into the passenger seat with a mere thought. She
slammed the door, hit the lock, then grabbed the steering wheel
with white knuckle strength and stared at the front
porch.

"If you're looking for me, I'm not -
"

This time she hit her head on the door
window when she jerked around. She grappled blindly for the handle,
kicked open the door, then fell from the car, scrambling to her
feet in the snow, then running toward the darkness.

Did the woman never hang around through
a complete sentence? Did she think she would get very far in this
weather? He appeared before her, walking backward with ease as she
struggled through the snow.

"I really do mean you no
harm."

She changed directions and continued to
lope away from him, her ragged breath bursting into the air in
white clouds. Before she could lose sight of the mountain cabin, as
well as her bearings, he placed himself in front of her, forcing
her to stop or run through him. She stopped.

"Look, have I hurt you? Have I done
anything to intentionally make you fear me?"

She bent, her hands on her knees,
fighting to catch a breath that wheezed in her lungs.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Look. I
can't." He held out his hand to caress her face. A sharp stab of
disappointment hit him in the chest when his hand passed right
through her, even though he'd known it would.

She flinched, then
shuddered.

"See? How can I hurt you if
I can't touch you?" he asked logically, ignoring the voice in his
head that mournfully echoed
I can't touch
you. I can't touch you.

Her breathing slowed a bit and he
thought perhaps a little of the terror left her eyes. She
straightened and glanced around, no doubt looking for the cavalry,
but from the looks of the way the snow was coming down, the cavalry
couldn't get to her anyway.

"Come back to the cottage. I'll leave
you be, if you wish. But you can't set out in this weather, and you
can't stay in your car. You really don't have an
option."

The woman swallowed hard. Little
droplets of melting snow in her hair quivered with her body as she
tried to look everywhere but at him.

"All right. I'll leave you alone. But
you have to admit, if I meant you any harm, I've had plenty of time
to carry out my plans." He vanished then, reappearing immediately
on the small, darkened balcony overlooking the lake.

What would he do if she continued on?
She'd surely die in the storm, if not by falling into the lake,
then certainly by freezing to death.