Chapter Eight

Monday night

Having died shortly before age twenty, Danielle Gregg had spent roughly five lifetimes in her spirit state — neither in Heaven nor Hell. And not really Purgatory, had she been Catholic. It was more of an aimless, endless — and rather hopeless — sense of waiting for delivery from that status. There were no briefings and precious little information to speak of, but she had gathered — through a few isolated contacts with mortals — that she would remain in her limbo until something significant changed. What had to change? That was never totally clear. Danielle had concluded it dealt partly with her manner of death but there seemed to be other factors.

While in this ill-defined state, these hundred years, her awareness was more or less confined to the Majestic Hotel where she’d lived for several months prior to her death. That period had included certain joys, which were becoming increasingly difficult to remember, and — of course — those unfortunate situations with the stranger Father had selected for her.

But in the past several days, there had been much activity in the suite where she’d formerly resided. This new person — a young man. Handsome he was. Most interestingly, Mr. Muir was not the least bit frightened. The slightest noise or whisper would usually send visitors running, but the gentleman now residing in her quarters seemed to possess mainly skeptical curiosity… with a bit of compassion. That was new — compassion for a troubled spirit somehow captive in this old hotel.

The more she studied him, the more Danielle was willing to share. Mr. Muir had already pressed her to reveal herself, which she fully intended for that very evening. This bold new cohabitant might be just the one to provide the special assistance she needed. However, Danielle’s goal would require his complete attention, so she’d decided upon a minor campaign of subliminal suggestions to convince Mr. Muir that he need not concern himself with the Lucy Tierney person… except as a colleague at his school.

And if Mr. Muir did not seem to take these hints, Danielle had stronger measures she could employ to make up his mind for him. But tonight was to be about her debut and she was nearly as excited as she’d been for her social entrée at age sixteen.

No longer did Danielle expect Mr. Muir to flee, but she still did not know how he might respond to her manifestation. After all, a believer in ghosts is prepared with prejudices, but a skeptic offers no predictability whatsoever.

She waited until her cohabitant had settled in after his supper date with that woman. Danielle could still smell the vapors of burned pork and other rich spices about the man, despite him having washed his hands after visiting the bathroom. She did not watch his other activity. In fact, it was Mr. Muir’s open immodesty which kept Danielle on her figurative toes — she scarcely knew when he would pull off his shirt and sit in a chair near the window to soak in some sunlight.

Of course, she dared not observe him when he stood under the piped-in water spray, but Danielle had to admit she had accidentally glimpsed every bit of his unclothed flesh at one point or another. It warmed her just to think about it.

Now seated in what had clearly become his favorite chair near the east window, Mr. Muir put down a bottled beverage and spoke. “I can smell your perfume, Danielle, so I know you’re here. Will I be allowed to see you this time?”

“I am accustomed to less cursory greetings, Mr. Muir, before having demands placed upon me.” She could speak telepathically or direct her voice to approach from any angle of the room. Tonight, she spoke from the special window he already faced.

“Sorry.” He’d tensed ever so slightly, despite having requested the interaction. “Good evening, Danielle. Well, I survived my first day of school, went with Lucy to the archives and picked up a bit of background on you, and then we ate some supper.”

“Yes, I was aware of the supper. I can detect the pork aroma but its preparation does not seem familiar.”

“Barbecue. Didn’t they have that a hundred years ago?”

“If so, perhaps it was a Yankee dish. Down here, we roasted pigs on hand-turned spits. In any case, pork was not among my favorites.”

“I bet the sauce would make a difference. If you could taste the way good barbecue is done now, you’d be a believer.” He took another sip of his beverage and likely wondered if they had spent enough time on the pleasantries.

“I do not believe pork, with or without special sauces, will be a concern for me. Spirits do not consume food, as I am sure you realize.”

“Actually I don’t know much at all. I’ve spent my whole life thinking that ghosts were mostly imaginary, so the rules are pretty much Greek to me.”

“I am pleased to know you still study that original language. There is much to be learned…”

Muir chuckled. “That was a figure of speech. Nobody actually studies Greek anymore except maybe some preachers. The only language I know besides English is a little bit of Spanish, but not enough to carry on a conversation.”

“I studied Latin and French, but Greek classes had already begun to decline in popularity when I was in school.”

“Well, anyway, when you visited last night, we discussed the possibility that you’d let me see you finally.”

“Yes, I recall that conversation.”

“So it wasn’t part of my dream after all?” He smiled as he pointed toward the askance bookcase.

“There is much about our interaction which may be viewed as dreamlike by mortals, but it appeared to me you were awake when you spoke to my portrait.”

“As I figured.” He nodded. “So, what did you decide?”

“I have not done this very often, but I should be visible as we speak. However, you will have to turn around.”

Muir jumped. Despite his declared skepticism of ghosts, learning there was a spirit directly behind him clearly unnerved the young man. “Holy smoke!”

“Do I frighten you now that your eyes can sense me?”

“No, but you shouldn’t sneak up on people. I thought you were over there near the window.”

“I was earlier, but spirits can relocate rapidly.”

“Yet you’re still confined to this building?”

“So it seems.” She moved around in front of his chair so his trunk would not be twisted. “Is my appearance what you imagined?”

“I thought you were beautiful in the portrait, but now I realize that guy was a lousy painter.”

Danielle’s lips formed a pout. “What do you mean, sir?”

“You aren’t just beautiful, you’re stunning.” Muir stood and stepped closer.

“Please,” she said, holding up a pale and delicate hand. “Do not approach.”

“Why not?”

“Let us proceed slowly and cautiously as we interact. This is not only a new experience for you, but for me as well.”

“Okay.” He returned to his chair. “Would you like to sit?”

“My manifestation will remain standing, but thank you for the offer.” She leaned forward slightly and gazed into his eyes. “You are certain you have no fear?”

Muir shook his head. “When you’re scared, your guts turn to ice.” He pointed to his bottled beverage. “But when I’m around you, my insides feel warm, like I’m sipping rich hot chocolate.”

It warmed her to hear his analogy.

“I wish my friend Lucy was here. She’d have a ton of questions for you.”

“I do not intend to appear to your acquaintance.” She knowingly frosted her words.

“Has Lucy done something to tick you off?”

“Our only encounter was when she visited you here. But I have been harassed by members of her organization. And, over the years, by others with similar tactics.”

“Harassed?”

“It would be difficult for a skeptic to comprehend, but some of these individuals seem to view their efforts as a gaming contest — their apparent goal being to accumulate more contacts than other individuals. As though someone somewhere were keeping score on how many spirits these people can locate and irritate.”

“Irritate?” Muir looked deeply puzzled. “I thought they believed they were helping you in some way.”

“It depends a great deal on their motives. The ones clearly out to increase their tally, I completely ignore. I would only avail myself with someone interested in me.”

“I’m interested in you.”

“As I am aware, which is why I have agreed to appear.”

“Have you appeared to anyone else in these hundred years?”

Danielle smiled. “Only briefly, and usually to frighten them away.”

“You mean, like, ‘Boo!’?

“That is not an utterance of mine, but I believe I understand your reference. My customary approach is merely to whisper their names. Usually that pricks their haste in the other direction. It has been rare that a glimpse was also necessary.”

“Why do you seem to like that particular window?” Muir pointed to the parlor’s east wall.

“The morning sun visited through that window and felt good even on summer days.” Danielle inhaled deeply as though she could breathe those solar rays. “In the evenings, I could hear boats on the river and trains coming over the trestle.”

“If you had been born a few generations later, I’m afraid television would have drowned out those sounds.”

“I know what you refer to, having witnessed mortals using it in this building, but it does not seem like an inactivity which would interest me.” She smiled wistfully. “Watching a box on which other people’s lives play out seems quite dreary.”

Muir chuckled. “I can’t disagree with your assessment, though I’ve never heard it phrased quite that way. Yeah, it’s mostly mindless.”

“And I gather it keeps its adherents from observing real life, such as boats and trains. And people, of course.”

Her suitemate was silent for a moment. “Why does that particular window change when you’re looking through it?”

“I was not aware of a change. It has always looked the same to me.”

“When I saw you from the street that first time, the window had a completely different style, with something Lucy called decorative leading.”

“Those windows were specially ordered by Father before we took occupancy of this part of second floor. Mother was very particular about elegance and Father did whatever he could to please her. It was something of a town scandal how much money Father spent on those windows, for what would become a stay of less than one year.”

“Wonder what happened to them?”

When Danielle shrugged her shoulders, she noticed Muir’s eyes followed intensely. “It was, in my time, considered rude to stare.”

He smiled but did not turn away. “I’m sorry, but you’re so beautiful. I never realized women in that time could be so lovely.”

“We considered ourselves ladies, not women.” She turned to examine her own portrait but continued speaking over her shoulder. “That was my loveliest gown, and yet the only time I ever wore it was for those portrait sittings.”

“I notice it shows quite a bit more, uh, flesh, than what you have on now.” Muir pointed vaguely to her bosom. “Is this outfit you’re wearing the only one you appear in?”

Uncertain of the reason for his question, she replied cautiously. “This is the dress I wore when my life ended. It has not occurred to me to make wardrobe changes over these years, since I do not even exist in physical form.”

“Not a complaint, Miss Gregg. I was just thinking how much I’d like to see you in that other outfit.” He nodded toward the portrait.

Danielle felt her face grow warm, the first time she could recall in a century. “I do not believe it is possible, Mr. Muir. And I do not see how it could make any difference to you.”

“I appreciate beauty.”

He seemed immediately entranced. Surprising, but it could be useful to my purpose. “I see.”

“The more beauty I can see, the more I appreciate it.”

Possibly too entranced. “There is a decidedly carnal edge to your topic, Mr. Muir, and I will ask you to refrain from further consideration or expression of that bent.”

“My apologies. It’s been a while since I’ve spoken with a woman.”

“Ladies, Mr. Muir. But speaking of women, what is your assessment of the relationship with Miss Tierney… beyond being colleagues at school?”

“Well, Lucy’s been a big help. She’s a buddy. My only friend in town so far. And very cute.”

“She is very fond of you, or were you already aware?”

“If that’s even true, how could you know?”

Danielle’s sly smile was her only reply.

“Besides, I think she’s just being friendly. We mainly hang out. It’s not serious… yet.”

“But you would wish it so.”

He nodded rather sheepishly.

“It could already be more than you realize.” Danielle again faced Muir. “She is actually quite pretty and very trim. A little too brown, however, for my taste.”

“It’s relatively common these days for women to have a tan. In fact, people pay good money to lie in a long clamshell with bright lights just so they can be darker.”

“You mean, while disrobed?”

“Of course. The idea is to tan just about everything.”

“Everything?” Danielle felt her cheeks flush. I did not know this was possible.

Muir grinned. “My knowledge about spirits is sketchy, but I didn’t think you were, uh, able to be embarrassed.”

“Perhaps other spirits have not encountered a young man who speaks so brashly and about such intimate matters.”

“I mean no offense. Sometimes I can barely speak, but other times I just say what’s on my mind.”

“That is one of your disarming qualities, Mr. Muir. In addition to the fact that neither my presence nor my manifestation seems to disquiet you.”

“I’ve seen a lot of death and it’s usually gruesome. You don’t even look dead. In fact, you not only look alive, you’re ravishing.”

She blushed again. It had been a long century with no compliments. “Your form is also beautiful, Mr. Muir.”

“Beautiful?”

“Well, your skin has a healthy glow and your musculature is well defined.”

“So you have been watching me undress. Have you also been peeking while I shower?”

“As a lady, I can be counted upon to avert my eyes when the moment would be too unpropitious.”

“Translate.” But the English teacher knew because he was already grinning.

“I looked away, after a moment or two.” She fanned her face theatrically. “But it is all right because I once intended to train as a nurse.”

Muir scooted forward on his chair. “What changed your mind?”

“Father changed it.” Her bottom lip poked forward slightly. “He said it was beneath our standing for me to work.”

“You would have helped other people. I bet you’d have made a wonderful nurse.”

Her face warmed again. “Your compliments continue to catch me off guard, sir.”

“Why?”

She could not think of a proper reply.

“Your voice sounds like you’ve been lonely, Danielle.”

“I believe the same could be said of you, Mr. Muir.” She studied his face. “However, in your case, there appears to be something else I do not recognize… some other hurt as well.”

After a long pause, Muir nodded. “Most people say it’s related to my military service.”

“You were a soldier?” She brightened. “I knew some young men at military academies. A big war was breaking out in Europe but the newspapers said it would remain confined to those few countries. Many of the boys I knew hoped America would somehow become involved. Father said that could never be.”

“Are you talking about World War One?”

“Oh, I do not think it could be the same. This was begun when a minor archduke was assassinated. Within a few months half a dozen nations had declared war on someone else, but no fighting had taken place. Our President Wilson swore America would remain neutral.”

“We did until 1917, when we first sent troops over. Some never made it back home.”

“Oh dear, I wonder if any of those young men I knew were involved.”

“If they were in military academies when you died, they probably fought in 1917 and 1918.”

“I hope none of my friends had to fight. If America entered the fray, I suppose it really was a world war.”

“At the time they just called it the Great War.” Muir’s expression suggested he had tired of the subject.

Each was silent for a moment.

“We were talking about loneliness and you didn’t answer my question. Does a spirit have the ability to feel lonely?”

She struggled with the right words. “At times, and for long periods… desperately lonely.”

“But not now while you’re here visiting me?”

“No, not now. This exchange has been most pleasant.” Danielle smiled. “It has been such a long time without any meaningful conversation.”

“Surely there have been numerous occupants here over the past century.”

“As I have explained, Mr. Muir, mortals usually do not remain to notice me. Most are frightened and flee.”

“Not me.” Muir shook his head slowly. “As soon as I saw you, I recognized you. No, that’s not it. You seemed so familiar, like I’ve always known you.”

“But you have just arrived in this town and scarcely entered this hotel where I reside. How could I seem familiar?”

“Can’t explain, but when I first met you, it was like I’d finally arrived home.”

Danielle’s eyes widened. This portion of the entrancement was also escalating beyond expectations. “Home?”

“Like my heart and soul had been wandering — exhausted and resigned to never be happy.”

“Does this relate to the one you call Eva?”

“She’s my ex-almost-fiancé. How do you know about her?”

“You have called her name in your slumber.”

“What did I say?” he asked.

“Nothing very specific, but it is clear — perhaps as much as those soldier experiences — her memory troubles you.”

“She was so vain and self-absorbed. She thought she was a super highway for my life, but actually she was just a bump in a bad road. Just a pothole I wish I’d seen sooner so I could have steered around it.”

“I do not understand all your terms, Mr. Muir, but it is clear that leaving her was a troubling experience.”

“No, leaving was the good part. Everything else was bad.”

Danielle took a moment to contemplate. “Even when you coupled?” She could not restrain her giggle.

“She had a pretty face and a nice body, but everything else was ugly.”

Without comment, Danielle arched her eyebrows.

“But I was horny and let that take first place.”

Again, Danielle blushed. “I believe our conversation has taken another uncomfortable turn, for which I am partly to blame. I think it best that I depart before we engage in further familiarities.”

“You’re coming back again, aren’t you? I mean, visibly.”

“Would you wish it?”

He nodded and smiled.

“Very well, then. I shall.”

“Promise?” Muir stood but did not advance.

“A lady does not swear.”

“But I want to see you again.”

“I am disposed to consider your request favorably, Mr. Muir.” She disappeared in the blink of his eye and left her scent filling the room.

****

“Wow.” Muir slumped back to his chair and took a long swig of his beer, presently a bit too warm for his taste. “Unbelievable. There are ghost hunters all over the world struggling to record blips on fancy equipment and I’ve been sitting here hanging out with a gorgeous spirit from 1914. Wow.” He reached for his phone and called Lucy.

She answered right away and he reported his contact. “You mean visible… totally in view?” Lucy sputtered. “Not just shadows or hazy orbs?”

“It was just like talking with anybody else.”

“So she was an energy-generated hologram?”

“Uh, not certain about that. I think she was really here. I could smell her perfume, you know.”

“A spirit can’t be in our dimension, since they don’t exist in a form that we can perceive. Whatever you saw — and smelled for that matter — was a manifestation she projected from her realm.”

“No, I think you’re wrong, Lucy. Danielle was here in this living room. Only she’s a fanatic about germs or something, because she wouldn’t let me get near her.”

“She’s a holographic spirit, Levi.”

“Nope. It was her… just like in the painting, only prettier. Oh, except not wearing that cool party dress.”

“What was she wearing?”

“Long dark skirt, all the way to the floor, white long-sleeved blouse, buttoned up to her neck.” Disappointly modest.

“That sounds about like what I’d expect for everyday clothing for a society lady of that time.”

“She said it was the outfit she had on when she died.”

A long silence from the other end. “Amazing. That contact would’ve spiked all of our equipment, I’m sure. The EMFs would’ve been off the charts.”

“Yeah, about all that equipment… I guess I should tell you, Danielle doesn’t like it.”

“What do you mean? It’s state of the art. We’ve got some of the same gizmos those TV people use.”

“But Danielle called it irritating and, uh,” he struggled to remember the word, “harassment.”

“Harassment? We’re trying to do them a favor!”

“That’s what I told her. But she says it’s about motive.”

“What motive? A favor’s a favor. If we can make contact and help them get situated in the place they belong, it’s win-win.”

“Uh, not quite that simple.”

“What are you talking about, Levi? You’re a skeptic who just partied with a spook. And now you’re acting as her counsel?”

“Well, never mind. I’ll just let her tell you when she’s ready.”

“Tell me what? When will she be ready?”

“She didn’t really say. I mean she didn’t speak it, not when we talked before. But I just now heard it as though she was transmitting while you and I were discussing it.”

“That makes no sense whatsoever.” Lucy grunted. “Leave it to Danielle Gregg to wait a hundred years for a total skeptic and out-of-towner before she makes herself heard and seen. And now she’s enlisted you as her spokesman.”

And seems to have her hooks in my brain, too. “Look, I’m sorry I mentioned it.”

Despite the implied criticism, Lucy was obviously excited about this development and eager to rush over. But Muir said no.

“Why not?”

“She’s already gone.”

“That can’t be,” insisted Lucy. “When a spirit residually haunts a place, they’re always, uh, present.”

“Yeah, she said she’s basically confined to this building, but also said she was leaving and she disappeared.”

“Maybe she’s just invisible.”

“Might be. In either case, you wouldn’t be able to see her. But she’s gone. I can sense it when she’s here.”

“I can’t believe this. I’ve waited four years to see a spirit and you’re living with one but don’t even seem to think it’s a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal all right. She’s seen me nekkid.”

“This pervert ghostess admitted that?”

“It’s okay. In 1914, she was thinking about becoming a nurse.”